Cast iron lampposts, corporation green
howard brace
howard brace
Apr 12, 2011

Rows of stone houses, all back-to-back
lined by the side of streets cobble set
housewives with shopping, segs in their heels
clopping down ginnels with ringing footsteps.

Cast iron lampposts, corporation green
daily were reset by clockwork it seemed
casting more shadow than light which to see
brimstone edged steps, scrubbed 'elbow' clean.

Sweeps on their rounds, in Summer would rush
cleaning the flues with rods and brush
kids in the street, staring in wonder
at soot snowing flurries, from porcupine pots.

Nutty slack in the grate, drawn by the pan
coal smoking stacks, pouring out grime
creels of damp washing, stealing the flame
when years end smog, jaundiced the sky.

A trip to the 'flicks', Saturday morning
'thrupence' for best seats, 'top-a-the-stalls'
rounds of cheers as good-un's were chasing
the bad-un's were boo'd, soon to be caught.

In 'wellies an scruff,' we went to the 'flea-pit'
with 'ha-peth o' cheap spice', soothing the throat
food for thought, all week long
and played them all, the films we saw.

Cowboys and Indians, cap guns held high
annoying the neighbours, 'bye it were grand'
riding the range on imaginary horses
best we ride on, with slap of the hand.

'Play in yer own street', my recallection
and 'geer off mi steps, they've jus-bin-swilled'
yet still we 'mucked out' with die-cast toys
against the 'midden', and on the walls.

No more adventure, making own fun
young-un's today don't know how it's done
cartoon and serial, games of war
we'd launch to the moon, upon the see-saw.

...   ...   ...

Inch worm, inch worm can't measure marigolds
Because a firm owns them and the tape measure.
They own the soil, the land and water, we have no stake anymore.
0ne firm own the water, how is that so?
Is soylent green closer than we know

Mind over matter
Your mind focused
on the latter
as you tried to climb to the top
with no perception for disaster

They call it high risk options;
sheer prayers for returns.
But all the bits of your brain
didn't care about who burned

Can't slap cuffs on an entity
So I guess it's lesson learned
in their equity
though one finds that the fines
can still burn

Every willing ear
mixed with the
right tone of trust

Acknowledgement in gold
soon traded away to dust

If the brain believes
its body should live forever,
then where's the fear
of a burn when confronted with an ember

so they never think a spark
can elevate higher
ignorance is fuel,
greed sets this structure fire

Man the troops!
The sky is falling!
The city's set ablaze
and the sirens are calling!

We're supposed to save the people,
but the people pay first
save the buildings with
these bails of water
even if the people thirst

New body, same mind.
It's done so many times
one comes to think its rehearsed
The ticket price is high,
the play leaves the people
feeling cursed.

the corporation is coming -
Prabhu Iyer
Prabhu Iyer
Dec 13, 2013      Dec 14, 2013

Airwaves awash in the new gospel barrage:
calling forth the neighbourhood hack,
Abe Lincoln toon in towering hat,  
the corporation is coming -
will you not
collaborate my friend?

Everything good that you ever dreamed of is here:
Marbonite floored flats with self-terraced roofs;
The swankiest of cars, in imported hues;
Your arm candy drools,
now, brands, bigger brands!

All in your grasp, now, in community gates
shut safe as society decays.

Skies spitting frogs? Pestilences amass?
Listen to the Gospel according to Bane:
in the desert, smell octane. Hallelujah,
everything we make, from watches
to headscarves - your underwear is cheaper
sourced from the next so-lala-land.

Forget your sources tiny of incomes varying:
Bakers, cobblers, tinkerers, we also have
a uniform for you. Oh you rustic
tradition-bound bandy bumpkins!
Abandon your alleyways, and
welcome to the ghettos...where

What you eat, to where to retreat:
we cure everything from heartache to panache.

Wash away your sins in wonder medicines;
Waters can part, yes, see how the Pharoah
is disarmed; Big city dreams, dream
global manna beams. All that is needed for
salvation, is a little bit of classification. Are you
left-wing or right? Center-left or center-right?

The powerdrill tearing down edifices
resonating through noon. A crane arm's shadow
hovering high by the moon. Tablets from skies
now proclaim the new gospel for the land,
the airwaves are awash
of the miracle of Witwatersrand.

The corporation is coming, to a store near you:
Amen! Will you not, then, collaborate, my friend?

rebecca askew
rebecca askew
Jan 8      Jan 8

We build altars of gold, to fool the fool
And slaughter our demons, with rubber swords
We stifle, silent screams, with choked off words
And wrap ourselves in jaded ridicule

We judge the world, through fickle, clouded prisms
Yet view ourselves through rose colored glasses
As spectacular lies fool the masses
With manufactured truths and dogmatisms

Secret deals and whispered conversation
Create tactless, corporate dilusions
And celebrate synthetic illusions
No matter the cost, self preservation

Sell humanity, for personal gain
Prideful hubris always loses the game

Italian Sonnet Structure...  So tired of battling Captain Corporation.... Sorry.

Christian people gather around,
Don’t ask questions, donate now.
Pass the basket, fill it up,
Jesus loves you, hurry up!
Contributions for worthless bonds,
Tax deductions to employ cons.
Corporations that don’t exist,
Audit time for the I.R.S.
Set your dial to my feature,
“I’m Your Early Morning Gospel Preacher!”

My sermon albums, and Bible sales,
Ended in libel suits, and suspended jail.
Your charity pledges for priest and nuns,
Led to multi-millions in missing funds.
My associates were convicted book jugglers,
Tax evaders and drug smugglers.
All gaining trust through guilt and fear,
Preaching: “Love thy neighbor, believe your ears.”
Set your dial to my feature,
“I’m Your Early Morning Gospel Preacher!”

Joseph A. Malgeri - 11-13-81, Copyright
The massive corporation in bed with everyone.

Justice is lost
Paper gone inflated
Don’t expect to recover anytime soon.

Spending, spending, spending
Killing any value
The massive corporation in bed with everyone.

I’m not talking about Walmart or Exxon or Apple
I’m talking about those on The Hill
What else would they be?

A massive conglomerate of corruption and thievery
Who can decide who dies when
And who the true enemies are.

Snowden is not a patriot they say
But how can he be anything but
No so-called Democracy deserves this right.

Our paper is dying
But keep on falling for ‘hope’ or ‘change’
By the massive two
Who will control, control, control
Until you decide to say fucking no.

Justice is lost.

the United States of America Corporation:
Hank Roberts
Hank Roberts
Dec 12, 2013

I'll stand around with a sign
that says, "free the rights"
when America turns to
the United States of America Corporation:
Where the trees, mountains,
and even coral morph into dollar signs.

As supplies last morality is quantified
into algorithms and sold in vacuum sealed
plastic while the president rules
all cellphones must be attached  
to the brain because it's affordable for
taxpayers. Direct connect,  instant
success, calls to any mind, anywhere, even
up on the cloud. mother and the pope are
on line two while  politicians will only
be 5 minutes away with the 100 percent
satisfaction guaranteed customer
service team, on the clock
24 hours and seven days a week,
while the black suites and white hair
earn credit for troubleshooting and calling
everyone unpatriotic because no one wants
to be outsourced to the next course of war.

Meanwhile, being a scientist is
secular progressive and doesn't meet
requirements for the 3 year warranty
but guarantees rush delivery, overnight twenty-four
hour shipping right into hell because
the business of women created from
mens' ribs didn't seem like viable coverage.

In my colony of corporate clones,
I prohibit any individual style.
Here everyone conforms to my self-image,
And wears a sickening, perpetual, phony smile.
How dare you show your own true feelings,
And not model my ass-kissing go-fors?
I consider you an insubordinate rebel,
Just for having tassels on your loafers!
As the customer shits on you,
If you get blood on his knife, say you're sorry,
‘Cause "the customer's always right!"

Your thought-process must stay within my perimeter,
And be Mr. Personality-Plus, a nauseating nice guy.
If  “the truth reveals itself only to those who seek it,”
Then behind imposed restrictions is where I hide.
Any indifference is perceived as an act of aggression,
By my guilty conscience, and my friend or foe complex.
We must annihilate all the 'minding their own business neutrals,'
‘Cause, “being the same as everyone is the same as being no one!”
As the customer shits on you,
If you get blood on his knife, say you're sorry,
‘Cause "the customer's always right!"

I actually believe no one sees my true intentions,
Since I've convinced myself to believe my own lies.
I'm so use to performing, all non-performing seem defiant,
To my concealed behind corporate smiling policy disguise.
“If you’re nobody alone, then you’re nobody with others!”
Hired imitators follow what fired innovators realize:
“Without deviation from the norm progress is not possible!”
My slave has an attitude, and I wonder why?
As the customer shits on you,
If you get blood on his knife, say you're sorry,
‘Cause "the customer's always right!"


Joseph A. Malgeri - 8-20-02 Copyright
#shit   #right   #job   #customer   #foe   #phony   #corporation   #boss   #corporate   #clone  
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