Beeing realistic

oh there's a lot just you dig in a bit
the rot the scum the filth all sorts of shit
still here somewhere as ugly as before
who is he kidding they are here no more?

the birhtday cakes from when no one came in
leftovers from a dinner that have been
arranged for two but eaten all alone
some juicy hopes all gnawed to the bone
some cookies so delicious at first try
that bought with stock and left becoming dry
all those zuchhinies like he was in need
so well intended gift he couldn't eat
then rinds and crusts and peels and stumps and shells
the real substance being something else

make no mistake we surely could proceed
categorizing all these kinds of shit
but should we? that's enough to get the gist
to clarify to some extent at least
what's given here what are we dealing with
the whole bunch of crap that's hard to miss

what could he say in his futile defense?
he sees this with a kind of soothing sense
it's taken care of in a proper way
it's buried deep as careful as it may
it's left to decompose it's kept at bay
returning to the source to melt away

what's taken from the soil comes back to soil
dissolving with no haste with no turmoil
some things go fast the other things go slow
it doesn't matter things are laying low
the earth below as well the earth above
a little water splattered just enough
that's what goes into making a compost

there's nothing thrown away there's nothing lost
it's here indeed all that was here before
fermenting with some warmth to settle the score
returning nutrients to where they came from
dispersing drop by drop and crum by crumb

still here to do a little groundwork
same petty failure same pretentious jerk
well here he lies for a new life to sprout
which he will hardly ever know about
just dumping everything that he no longer needs
thoughts feelings memories beliefs posessions deeds
becoming lighter less is more he thinks
oh please don't touch here anything it stinks