Junkyard Poetry

Recycled Dreams

While taking a trip through the junkyard,
a thought, it came to me,
Chickens, they eat chicken feed
because for them, it's free.
I'm certain, if they paid a price
they'd lean towards something better,
eat until they're really fat
and buy some fancy feathers.

While taking a trip through the junkyard,
I spied the junkyard dog
and thought, Why just dogs--
Why not a junkyard hog?
A junkyard hog might eat a lot
but then he'd soon get ate
making him dual purpose--
wouldn't that be great?

While taking a trip through the junkyard,
I thought it really swell,
I could build most anything--
a car, a ship to sail.
I could build an aeroplane
or a castle on a hill
made of piles of rusted hulks
stacked high, without their wheels.

While taking a trip through the junkyard,
a thought, it came to me,
All I see, I've seen before
for new it cannot be.
Junkyards rise up 'cross the land
to take what we toss out
change it to recycled dreams
and pass it all back out.