A large place where things that aren’t wanted anymore are thrown. Sometimes you can find things you need there as well. I think there is some irony in there somewhere about that. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, isn’t that the phrase? I guess its all subjective.
In the junkyard, there is an archive of past happiness, joy and ancient toys of the mind and heart to surround your senses with the testimony to the past. I love to peruse old junkyards and touch the items that might have been in the hands of an ancestor. Junkyard’s lament .. oh what a concept!
I remember when my little cocker spaniel bested some junkyard dogs. He surprised all of us. The junkyard dogs were coming after us and Phantom chased them back under their own fence. He was our hero that day! He did the same with a coyote another time.
i think of the movie sandlot. i loved that movie as a kid. i’m pretty sure that one of the dogs name was sandlot. it also makes me think of one mans trash another mans treasure
My junkyard is sad, my lemontree stop blosoming, it turned out itself to a superproduction logic and forgot about producing flowers, since then, no more than lemons. I want my flowers back.
Junkyard. Kinda reminds me of Fat Albert and his friends. Singing songs and just having a good time. Junkyard. Black kids. Kinda questionable. But hey it was back in the old times so anything made kids happy.
well first you take the reciprocal,l which would be 1/14th and then you multiply it by the parenthetic expression (x+19) and then you have the sum of the equation. YEAH!
Thew junkyard was silent in the moonlight. It was bright, much brighter than I had anticipatedi t would be when I was thorwn into the pile of usless trash to the left of where I now stood. One of my legs was broken, I was pretty sure, the landing had been a little rough. Groaning, Istretchedb until it made a sickening popping noise and limp ttoward the nearest form of shelter- an old beatup looking chevy that was every bit as discarded as I was.
It was the shittiest fucking place I ever did see. A man wore a turncoat and a flange-filled hat of wool. Alas, this was the fateful location of my trivial end. I sought him, like a tiger on the trail of whatever they hunt in Siberia.
My office looks like a junkyard. Despite the time I spend filing and organizing, within days it is back to a chaotic state of dumped articles that have no where else to go. Coats, baskets of magazines, free weights, satchels, purses, hats, dog leashes, boxes of things to be filed…all find their way into this 10 x 10-ft space where I try to write.
Wow I hate junkyards they smell very bad sometimes and you can also see a bunch of rats sometimes. If my dad asks who wants to go there with him when he takes the trash there.
A place filled with junk. Why to people throw stuff away. They can just sell it. I bet someone somewhere would by a can from me i would just say i’m famous and everyone would by my junk. Haha
It’s a junkyard over here. All the things are tossed away with no order. It’s like an hurricane has passed and nothing has an order. The depression it’s getting worse, really worse. I even thought about killing myself sometimes.
I scanned the junkyard. I didn’t know what the hell I was looking for, a spare something. I didn’t know anything about cars. All I knew is that mine was broken and I was fucking screwed. You couldn’t get anywhere in America without a damn car. What was I going to do? I was already eating sandwiches just to make it through the semester.
junkyard in the house, piles of last night’s refuse making stinking homes for rats and smells and yellow peels. this is the way we could live, the way we will live when we refuse to face ourselves in the mirror with presence and instead push away the trash we’ve created.
I hate junkyards. They smell bad and look bad. But sometimes, I think that the junkyard can be a place where people can find interesting things. One person’s junk can be another person’s treasure. You could find many things there such as a very old thing that could be expensive if you sell it.
a place where people out there garbage and it piloes up and rots and smells disguisting. serouisly, it stinks. i hate junkyards but you find so many cool things that other people had before like an old book. its so awesome
I always believed the junkyard was haunted, but I never thought it would affect me. However, the day my friends and I went to check it out was the last day
“Look at that dog, Honey. I looks like it came straight from a junkyard,” I said as we drove past a natural foods store. The dog was small with matted fur, perky ears, and eyes as big and bright as the summer sky on a perfect day in July.
He lay there in the scrap pile, staring at the sky as he did most days. His thoughts were miles away, thinking of all the broken machines around him. Broken like he was. They called him Junkyard and that’s how he felt. A pile of broken metal, rusty and sharp. Worn down. Used up. Discarded. So, he came here everyday, stared into the sun, and broke down more every time they yelled through the chain link at him.
Standing in the junkyard, an impending sense of nostalgic dread seem to wash over the steel jungle. Looking over the rotting hulks of steel and glass, the visage of past industry seemed to wash over.
Standing in the junkyard, I was overcome with an impending sense of dread. Looking over the rotting hulks of steel and glass, the image of past industry seemed to remain in the rusting skeletons.
A large place where things that aren’t wanted anymore are thrown. Sometimes you can find things you need there as well. I think there is some irony in there somewhere about that. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, isn’t that the phrase? I guess its all subjective.
In the junkyard, there is an archive of past happiness, joy and ancient toys of the mind and heart to surround your senses with the testimony to the past. I love to peruse old junkyards and touch the items that might have been in the hands of an ancestor. Junkyard’s lament .. oh what a concept!
I remember when my little cocker spaniel bested some junkyard dogs. He surprised all of us. The junkyard dogs were coming after us and Phantom chased them back under their own fence. He was our hero that day! He did the same with a coyote another time.
i think of the movie sandlot. i loved that movie as a kid. i’m pretty sure that one of the dogs name was sandlot. it also makes me think of one mans trash another mans treasure
My junkyard is sad, my lemontree stop blosoming, it turned out itself to a superproduction logic and forgot about producing flowers, since then, no more than lemons. I want my flowers back.
the sandlot. i loved that movie so much. i think one of the dogs was named junkyard. it also makes me think of well, junkyards
spongebob and the giant worm
little rascals or sandlot
lots of junk
garbage man
ummm……..umm….
i have no idea
there was a dirty junkyard and it was messy having to clean it would be a mess and it was stinky. It was a lot of work trying to get this cleaned up
Junkyard. Kinda reminds me of Fat Albert and his friends. Singing songs and just having a good time. Junkyard. Black kids. Kinda questionable. But hey it was back in the old times so anything made kids happy.
well first you take the reciprocal,l which would be 1/14th and then you multiply it by the parenthetic expression (x+19) and then you have the sum of the equation. YEAH!
trash, cars, oil, glass, metal, gears, parts, discarded items, pipes, junk, fence, machines,
Thew junkyard was silent in the moonlight. It was bright, much brighter than I had anticipatedi t would be when I was thorwn into the pile of usless trash to the left of where I now stood. One of my legs was broken, I was pretty sure, the landing had been a little rough. Groaning, Istretchedb until it made a sickening popping noise and limp ttoward the nearest form of shelter- an old beatup looking chevy that was every bit as discarded as I was.
a yard with a lot of junk (usually). Most often associated with rabid dogs and cranky old people. Junkyard.
It was the shittiest fucking place I ever did see. A man wore a turncoat and a flange-filled hat of wool. Alas, this was the fateful location of my trivial end. I sought him, like a tiger on the trail of whatever they hunt in Siberia.
Is a yard that has a lot of junk. People usually go to junkyards to find things that can be reused.
My office looks like a junkyard. Despite the time I spend filing and organizing, within days it is back to a chaotic state of dumped articles that have no where else to go. Coats, baskets of magazines, free weights, satchels, purses, hats, dog leashes, boxes of things to be filed…all find their way into this 10 x 10-ft space where I try to write.
Wow I hate junkyards they smell very bad sometimes and you can also see a bunch of rats sometimes. If my dad asks who wants to go there with him when he takes the trash there.
Junkyard can be used for putting trash in, or stuff that you don’t need can go in there. But sometimes you have to pay to get the trash in.
A place where they keep trash, and maybe old items somebody use to owe. And many other things. But does smell gross.!
A place filled with junk. Why to people throw stuff away. They can just sell it. I bet someone somewhere would by a can from me i would just say i’m famous and everyone would by my junk. Haha
A junkyard is not a good place to be. This is where all the junk goes to. Nasty things come here. Things that don’t work come here too.
A junkyard is a very dirty, discusting place. Sometimes there’s a junkyard dog that hangs out there and bites you if you get to close.
A junky yard. A place where unwanted things are kept, normally broken and trashed cars, couches, stuff like that
This is a sample.
It’s a junkyard over here. All the things are tossed away with no order. It’s like an hurricane has passed and nothing has an order. The depression it’s getting worse, really worse. I even thought about killing myself sometimes.
I scanned the junkyard. I didn’t know what the hell I was looking for, a spare something. I didn’t know anything about cars. All I knew is that mine was broken and I was fucking screwed. You couldn’t get anywhere in America without a damn car. What was I going to do? I was already eating sandwiches just to make it through the semester.
I wish I didn’t have to use my own words when I write here. Every time a word pops up all I hear in my head are song lyrics that pertain to this word.
Junkyard, though, I’m drawing a blank with.
Junkyard – makes me think of the Barrens in the book “IT,” a place to play and a place to find trouble.
A junkyard is a huge area of land that is where you can put your old worthless items that nobody wants.
a yard where junk is stored. sometimes, kids say that there is an old cranky man works there with his big dogs. anyone jumping the fence is sicced.
A junkyard is a big area full of trash and garbage. It is also known as a dump because of all of the trash.
Junkyard is a stinky place sometimes it depends what is in the junkyard like garbage is stinky. I dont really know what it is.
junkyard in the house, piles of last night’s refuse making stinking homes for rats and smells and yellow peels. this is the way we could live, the way we will live when we refuse to face ourselves in the mirror with presence and instead push away the trash we’ve created.
I hate junkyards. They smell bad and look bad. But sometimes, I think that the junkyard can be a place where people can find interesting things. One person’s junk can be another person’s treasure. You could find many things there such as a very old thing that could be expensive if you sell it.
a place where people out there garbage and it piloes up and rots and smells disguisting. serouisly, it stinks. i hate junkyards but you find so many cool things that other people had before like an old book. its so awesome
I always believed the junkyard was haunted, but I never thought it would affect me. However, the day my friends and I went to check it out was the last day
“Look at that dog, Honey. I looks like it came straight from a junkyard,” I said as we drove past a natural foods store. The dog was small with matted fur, perky ears, and eyes as big and bright as the summer sky on a perfect day in July.
He lay there in the scrap pile, staring at the sky as he did most days. His thoughts were miles away, thinking of all the broken machines around him. Broken like he was. They called him Junkyard and that’s how he felt. A pile of broken metal, rusty and sharp. Worn down. Used up. Discarded. So, he came here everyday, stared into the sun, and broke down more every time they yelled through the chain link at him.
Standing in the junkyard, an impending sense of nostalgic dread seem to wash over the steel jungle. Looking over the rotting hulks of steel and glass, the visage of past industry seemed to wash over.
Standing in the junkyard, I was overcome with an impending sense of dread. Looking over the rotting hulks of steel and glass, the image of past industry seemed to remain in the rusting skeletons.
cars, garbage, fet bloke with smelly armpit, smashed window, greese heads getting parts for there volkswagon gulf