Disposable

[Truerenigma]

Todd/ellz/Chaz/Keith edit 4

without the last two lines?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath garbage grime.

Where’s the empty milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Misplaced phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot;
their mislaid thongs serve as Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained;
the ink may have run, but harsh words remain.

The moth-ruined linens that mom crocheted
for festive tables were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

-or-


Todd/ellz/Chaz/Keith edit 3

with the last two lines?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath garbage grime.

Where’s the empty milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Misplaced phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot;
their mislaid thongs serve as Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained;
the ink may have run, but harsh words remain.

The moth-ruined linens that mom crocheted
for festive tables were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown out than their story told.
Hope recycles when the hard truth's withheld.

----------------------------------------
Todd/ellz edit 2

better with last two lines cut?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

-or-

Keep last two lines

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown out than their story told.
Hope can recycle when the truth's withheld.

-----------------------------------------------

original

in couplets

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown out than their story told.
Hope can recycle when the truth's withheld.

-or-

in quatrains

Disposable

Bills that come due
are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets
carelessly lost

and the crumpled news
of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred
beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed
milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive
by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers
are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs
as sole Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters
are now coffee stained
as the ink has run,
but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens
that mom crocheted
for festive spreads
that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages
of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders
in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown
out than their story told.
Hope can recycle
when the truth's withheld.

I dunno about this one chris. You need a comma at the end of the first couplet. You don't need "now" in L9. For the most part it just reads like a list of disposable items that have a sonic relationship to one another, along with a peppering of things that shouldn't be viewed as disposable. A bit of social commentary perhaps, but is there a poem in there somewhere?