#junk
Space junk , moon *******
Human discard down through history
rivers and oceans choked with chemicals
and the plastic wrap of new inventions
-cartons of this and cartons of that
sewage pumped into the sea's
a brown sludge dotted with tampons
toilet paper and cleaning fluids.
Look out Universe, sadly, here comes the defiler.
Jan 31
Jan 31, 2026 at 12:42 PM UTC
Recurrent fixations
Brain and body stuck in the white noise of pain and anguish
Their scratched records echoing time
Memories returning needing to be demolished
Films of sweat gathering on the surface of the skin
Itchiness and jittery thoughts
Hallucinations brimming on the surface
Pale from nocturnal lifetime
The vampiric urge to ingest powders of delight and death
The soul stripped of all life, but just one more fix
A fix to bring us back to life
Oh life, you are reduced to one meaning
Awakening to surrounding grotesqueries waiting for memories of night time revelries to reappear and brighten the face before thoughts become sick and obsessed on one ideal
Life, a permanent black punctuated by brief moments of pure white light whose glow depletes with every jab in the squalid, stinking, putrid conditions
Sickness seeping into every pore
Twisted souls kicking and screaming torments at the day
Calling for gods to release the pain
Listening at the night for the fireworks of relief
Control relinquished to flowers of romance
Their seeds vomiting life back once more
Shaking hands and rapid increase in the beating heart
Licking lips in anticipation whilst muscle memory rituals of bent, blackened spoons and vein raising ties pave the way for temporary bliss of pure white light and uncontrollable pleasure
My distorted life of dishonest and fraudulent ways return once more
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 4:31 AM UTC
In my desk drawer
are broken things,
bits of what were,
hopes of what could be.
It’s a journal without words
where a red paper clip
holds nothing together,
and a tape measure
never reached the length
of a bookshelf.
Tucked in a corner
is a faded love letter from my husband,
a few words about roses, and
how beautiful I was at seventeen.
Sticky notes lay scattered
in confetti colors of green,
pink, yellow, and blue
waiting for ink instead
of just taking up space.
I should clean it out…
send most of it to a waste basket,
but not every treasure box holds gold.
Mine is a cluttered drawer
filled with broken things, the
archaeological site of a dreamer
with a catalogue of stories to tell.
Aug 11, 2025
Aug 11, 2025 at 5:38 PM UTC
****** Earphones
The black earphones were made in Red China by CCP turtles
They worked for a year giving reasonably good sound
Then the right side stopped working it was totally dead
It was out of guarantee just over one year old
The left side still worked fine with clear sound
That was fine if you were ok with it that way
He wasn’t ok with that not at all he cursed their crap
Nowt but mass produced junk made by slave labour
He listened to three songs tried messing with it
Unplugging them bending the wire increasing the volume
He looked at the wire it appeared fine so what was it?
What exactly was the motherf*cking problem!
His white earphones would do the job he swapped them
Tried a song full volume the sound was at both ears
These had something wrong the frequency range was off!
No vocals came thru just a mass of static with bass
Back to his other black pair he’d listen with his left ear
It was better than garbled sound of no music at all
Both pairs made in Red China by CCP turtles
Aug 19, 2024
Aug 19, 2024 at 9:44 AM UTC
Keeps Loading
The system keeps freezing it makes you want to be elsewhere
Rather than stuck here in work using a tool that’s frozen
You’re not in the mood for made in Red China jokes
You want to be on top of the mountain free from all this
Oh what crap you must endure but you have your reasons
To do all this and in time you’ll be free of all this ********
So have patience and let the system load think of later
When this moment passes what you’ll achieve do
This will seem like a kid’s dream or mild distraction
Till then your obsolete system keeps loading
When this time and moment passes it will be worth it
This you will fully see and understand
Aug 19, 2024
Aug 19, 2024 at 8:34 AM UTC
i writher in junk
my shoes come pre-broken
and my shirts newly old and yellow
i am a tube within a tube organism
who be really just livin’ off rice and beans
and a lil tony’s
if you know what i mean
why all this effort to curate?
when i can just sit and contemplate
rotting and writhering here
like a big ole chunky maggot
Jul 13, 2024
Jul 13, 2024 at 11:15 AM UTC
At the junk dealer
I write, of course, life stories --
of the furniture.
May 6, 2024
May 6, 2024 at 3:41 AM UTC
China Computer
The laptop was made in the usual place
It was substandard crap designed to fail
With a charger that worked half the time
With a screen that was only half bright
With a keyboard only half sensitive
With a mouse that was half frozen
With a speaker that was only half loud
You get the idea of this piece of junk
Nothing but crap sold by the million
Mass produced throwaway *******
Soon to be dumped in the landfill!
Oct 4, 2023
Oct 4, 2023 at 9:04 PM UTC
He was the most tastiest , that she'd craved so much for
but was the most unhealthiest , dangerous amour..
Oct 8, 2021
Oct 8, 2021 at 12:54 AM UTC
Made In China
Your electrical items stop working one by one
First the kettle stops boiling even tho the red light’s on
Then your microwave stops heating tho it turns round
It gets fixed and works for a week then is totally dead
As for your TV it turns on but has a single line across it
The VHS video player ate the **** tape and jammed
Your radio gets nothing but static on all channels
The mobile phone charges but dies after 3 minutes
The other charger that lights up but doesn’t charge
Red LOS modem light means no connection
Along with a new fan with a burnt out motor
Your car radio eats tapes ejects CDs and smokes
The aircon is clunky and spreads a virus killing us
All items made in Red China sub standard parts junk
Unskilled low paid slave labour don’t give a ****
Don’t buy anything made in Red China its crap
Sep 1, 2021
Sep 1, 2021 at 1:13 PM UTC
The junk of love,
A notion perspiring.
Wanted by few,
Left all those desiring.
A torment unchecked,
By the few who flow with it.
Sweated out till you break,
Keeping the movement brewing.
This ***** love,
While one abates.
Another struggles to master its gates,
The end twiddling like thumbs.
Till the next thing arrives,
Breath kept in motion.
Don’t lose that drive,
So mend it or lose it.
Drive past,
Don’t abuse it.
This junk doesn’t last all the time,
No ***** will heal it.
Neither will those who appeal to it,
The wrong junk to have in your life.
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 4:06 PM UTC
Rusty cans and unknown skeletons
Once useful in structure and convenience
Now sculpture the red clay and pine knots
Of the hidden gateway to the backwoods.
My memory loses the battle
With a toy cash register whose numbers
Still shine black on white and flash higher
As they display, and the bells jingle.
Tires and more tires carry worn treads
With water greasy from time and nature’s
Slow and steady return to her own way
Sloshing willingly into my shoes.
Mats of old shingles once weathering
Storms and sunshine now lie quietly
Clinging to one another like lost children
Cowering in their barren vacuum of loneliness.
Old men with tales of battles
And stories of crops, and cattle, and kings
Probably sat in that old chair
With whittled arms and broken legs.
Sporadic visits teach a wondering history
More mystical and convincing
Than the fact-riddled pages of tomorrow’s assignment
Or the tainted explanations of our teachers.
Oct 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020 at 7:36 PM UTC
clearly, the days slip past
i nearly lasted, keeping track
tags and descriptions, each one placed
as if a benefit falls upon the lot
for drawing connective lines
god's dead, god's not dead,
i'm god, the god of sand,
ephemera at my command
but what's it mean? these things
take time, but not seriously, because
the sun hits the wax on a paper cup
and it blinds us from the bushes
and so low, can't care
so low, lone, done dead
can't care for upsides
but asides and sideways
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 6:15 PM UTC
just a little bit more, i said
looking at myself in health
but wonder now is it wealth
if the utter dregs
living now, too, never dead
living with no overhead
1:1 butter bread, just a little more
then i can ******* afford
that little bit more affordable
life extension business
which is it then, idiot,
social suicide or death by
getting left behind?
survival of the fittest? ****
then, i'm unfit as **** cheap,
fit to **** fit to ****** ****** fist
visions or is it not a dream?
deep as deep in the joke gets
Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 10:33 PM UTC
It's not enough to be sharp, is it?
I launch my heart
at the walls of the crumbling world,
a thought in it, but,
your heart is despondent, isn't it?
Move your mouth you failing ****
You glued the glass to the wall, as well,
so you can't stop, can you?
Sell it as it is. Nothing makes sense.
Seeming like a thing you've seen
once or twice before in your life?
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 3:16 AM UTC
Philip K. What The ****
It's here. Has been. In a fad.
I sit in a slit.
The calm of industrial evenings.
Back to the industry?
I never left.
You get clean. I get stuck.
Not that I never did want.
Cracks exist in everything.
Brief gaps in taken space.
Every crack leads from toe to head.
Every crack feeds on dusty crumbs.
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 9:38 PM UTC
I got a new desk today,
I thought "HEY!
if I get a new desk
I'll be able to fix this mess!"
I put together the desk,
it wasn't hard,
I didn't sweat.
I put it in my room
and I got upset
because despite the desk
being beautiful and tall
wooden and long
perfect for that corner in my room,
it was not big enough for the clutter
and the mess
and the stress
and all the books and the stuff
that I need around me.
So now I have a desk and my things
and we all float together in my solitude.
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 3:18 PM UTC
Reject
logic & respect
empathy --
expecting delivery,
goods given,
same goods returned.
I wanted to
merge into you,
the first sight
of your face.
Still do.
Still do.
I still do.
I still ******* do.
I want to
fall
into you.
Apr 13, 2019
Apr 13, 2019 at 6:26 PM UTC
Board sign. Black paint.
Wind over the barren waste.
Dust storm. Gut wound.
Three, two, one, toward my doom.
Population 41.
When it's over and done, done,
I have another number
I've assigned to Him,
and by my ******* blood,
He's going to get His.
Population 41.
Does this shanty even have a doctor?
High five the sign as I pass it,
with a ****** palm print.
Welcome, 42.
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 9:21 PM UTC
she silenced her phone
trashed the social media
cast off weary fake friends
ceased to lay eyes on junk
or accept empty invitations
she was like a tree or a flower
rudely dug up and replanted
in a grotesque garden
there was one way to wholeness
one unrushed road to finding self
and it wasn’t out there
or hiding somewhere
it was a gentle determined stroll
the deep measured cleanse
feeling the slow but sure growth
down to the roots of her tingly toes
until she and the earth around her lightly sighed
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 2:54 AM UTC
I’m addicted to my bad boy
like a druggie snorting on crack.
Bad boy- my succulent junk food.
Toxic love dark as chocolate black,
you do more harm than good.
This attraction is not healthy.
There is a strange dopamine hit,
though I’m discarded like a used toy-
I chase the thrill for him to commit.
Abusive and brazenly rude,
smugness as fat as greasy cheese,
his hurtful bites leave me hungry.
Shame clogs in cholesterol plaque-
infecting ailing arteries;
I’m going to have a heart attack!
Bad boy, why do I crave such ******
(c) 2019 Jo Swan
Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 9:28 AM UTC