Closeout Bin | Diane Woodward Dorff
If there be angels,
What think they of this thrift shop world?
Purchased with fire and ice and dust of galaxies,
Ruined before the payments come due,
Because we can.
consumerism poems
A Black-Tie Affair | Renee' Drummond-Brown
To dress up a lie; one must never forget Mr. Mac and Cover Girl shades to mask them big black beautiful eyes! Not to worry tough…them skin tight britches hides your children(S) name(S) as known as ‘THE’ STRETCH MARK STITCHES (from sea to shining seas). The red lipstick shades over ALL the men(S) you’ve been kissing. The cleavage showing; mask the breast loads of sorrows and the entire NOT sew knowing nothing… that your garments harbor. The 8-inch stilettos heighten the lies from 4 foot 2, to the 6 ft. 9 plain-view disguise. Dressed to kill…Ain’t a hard pill to swallow when the apparel is rented, stolen; let loaned borrowed. Go-on girl-strike a pose…awe yeah-SNAP! Naw 2-snaps!! Vogue knows. Vogue, sho nuff knows her designer’s lying one of a kind$. Baby you got swag. Do you have one in my size? Size 2. I swear (pinky crossed-but imma try it on for size anyhow-An’ squeeze into it too…LOL)! Just sayin; just sayin…Awe shucks I ain’t playin!! But… I too wanna hide my futuristic lies. And from where I sit…the Red Carpet knows just what to do to change a cunning size 9 into a voluptuous size 2.
And the “BEST DRESS” award goes to:
Drum(mond) roll please………………………………………
None other than……………………………………………….
YOU!
Dedicated to: PLEASE RSVP @ (412) Per-fect.
Date: November 16, 3017
Time: 12:00 MidLight
Place: Back to the future
Adults only.
—–
A RocDeeRay Poem
Insatiable | Tara Lynn Hawk
We spend and hoard
Ourselves into blind oblivion
Take a pill for any minor discomfort
Seek the product that will make us new
Beautiful, acceptable
Loved
Disregard our mortality
Aspiring permanence
Take more than we need
Realizing too late
Our legacy in
The young
More at https://www.taralynnhawk.com/.
Adverts to Avert | Priyanka Pareek
A world of bulletin boards,
Of banners, flexes, and signage.
Shoving yet another product in your face!
Dare you ignore.
My logo, my brand, my slogan everywhere,
My marketing meaty.
The catchiest line, the brightest flashlight
I’ll make your life easy, trust me I swear.
I am bigger than your previous home, come stay with me.
Fill me with decor and your life won’t be empty. No no. Not anymore.
I am neon, I am bold! I am big, I am high. You’ll see me on TV, on paper, in print,
I’ll sing on the radio for you. An annoying jingle or two.
I’ll plaster myself on every “No bills” wall
I’ll make you believe you need me every hour.
I’ve noticed you aren’t looking anymore,
Your eyes so glued to that thing you call a phone.
Oh, snap. Is that a fly on your wall?
Forgive me as I replace memories on your picture tile.
You skip me, I seek you,
Click me oh click me once more.
Won’t you at least put me in the cart.
Your wish, be my discount.
I won’t be pushy I notify.
Turn me on whenever you want.
Look how pretty the places are in my post, follow me, won’t you?
All the birdies agree to my wit. Won’t you quote a retweet?
Cluttered in 140 characters, a filtered short story
Will be lost in the digital black hole.
Ten seconds, there it goes again
Yes, I wish I could stay too.
In this attention-seeking materialistic store,
Around the ignored versions of incompatible emotional bores.
Someday, in some way.
You’ll stumble upon my unadvertised soul.
Revolutionary | Kara D. Spain
Rain-soaked bodies
Blood-soaked battlefield
Minds, overcome with rage against tyranny,
recognized their freedom rested with the vulnerable-
they themselves having been overrun,
by a warped legacy
They fought, for what we now take for granted
Where have all the ‘revolutionaries’ gone?
They’re at the Apple store,
heralding the release of the latest gadget
Society | Chris Byrne
Is the broken dream of a millionaire,
Or just the poor and downtrodden
Bravely attempting to live
While being bombed
To kingdom come?
A society of greed and debt
Forever keeping up with
The trends, bombarded with
Technologies, the new must haves
Slaves to advertising, money-driven
Ignoring the vulnerable and
Admiring the venerable
Whilst queuing for
Expensive coffee
They can’t stand.
Mall God, USA | G. Louis Heath
Terrible boredom holds sway at the mall.
The prophets have yet to arrive with their
new-fangled merchandise to dollop honey
and truth into minds dulled by the latest
movie screened in the far end of the mall.
It is in that far end of the mall that youth
get lost in images drenched in pulsing
carnage and throbbing sensuality. It is
where their parents lost their inner sight,
displaced by a digital, alt universe. The
outer view is dark and daunting, one of
sanguinary alarm. The sirens are screaming.
Dead litter the concourse and boutiques, and
blood pools in widening ponds to reflect the
40% discounts ads of the coming Friday. The
prophets needed to arrive. But they came late,
and they, too, now lay dead in the mall, just
more bodies sacrificed to the god of the mall.