Requiem for a Hoarder

decades of newspapers and magazines cluttered every room, silent witnesses to bygone eras, nestled alongside a lifetime of eclectic collections in the gathering gloom

when the coroner came to collect the old man, his worn-out body in his favorite chair in front of a fan, he was surrounded with trinkets and displays from his good old days

every room was piled high with one man’s treasure yet another man’s junk, standing lamps, piles of clothes from ages past that stunk worse than a skunk

boxes and crates with no labels butted against couches and tables, towers of books with subjects ranging from science to early fables, rolls of cables, and an assortment of turntables

souvenirs from other countries, plastic children’s toys that still made noise, clocks off all kinds, dried food, ancient weather vines, and assorted other sundries

missing were photos of family, a lonely man severed from humanity, living in an alternate reality, his life a mere triviality, his collections becoming his center of gravity

they said the old man had a mental disorder, a condition not unknown to many people trying to install order into their chaotic life, and turning into a hoarder

A Mental Wall

it’s too easy to build a mental wall

a barrier to all things big and small

when we get carried away with ideology

and the politics of the day

communication is cornered by fear

when a person believes everything they hear

tossing logic aside to build a mental wall

has been many a man and woman’s downfall

a wall keeps knowledge out

leaving the builder with doubt

about what is right or wrong

and what’s weak and what’s strong

so don’t burden your brain

with barriers that could drive you insane