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Lesley Feb 2017
Such dissatisfaction
For so little reason.
Much complaining & whining,
Crying & begging;
Pulling hair, tight fists
And gnashing teeth.
Consumer Zombies stagger
Into the Stop & Shop,
Shop & Go,
Buy More For Less-
Sale, Sale, Sale!
Salivating glands & bug eyes;
Our hands grab more than
Can possibly be seen.
Our skin stretches tight
As white elephants stampede.
Why can’t we all

Just Stop & think?
Take a drink of the cool morning
Air and buy in the sunrise?

*©  Lesley Wood
To hear reading:
Graff1980 Jan 2017
Scattered things like lost souls
Scream their futility.
Trinkets and trash charged with endless possibilities.
Illusions of how life could be better so,
I collect scraps of waste masked as human invention
New technologies, toys, and other luxuries
Drive that dark spear of desire deeper into my being.
Want is a sickness, a fever that cycles on and off.
I have I want, I want I need, I need I get.
I get I have, I have I want, I want I need
A scary situation and in its pursuit
I place myself in painful positions
Paying with large chunks of my life.
I get more and as it become easier.
My urges get stronger and stranger,
Joy becomes that much harder to find.
Get it get it get it get it get it
Buy buy buy buy buy buy
Till the pile stacks up so high
That I live and die inside
The world of crap I bought.
Once I start it is hard to stop
And I become the sole possessor
Of this sick collectors disposition.
Paula Sullaj Dec 2016
When  the  internal  righteousness is a mixture of  all  outside  realities
You shift in many "devils" up to the point where "You" no longer exist
Once   in   a  while, Seeking becomes monotonously an exciting habit
But the latest iPhone and Burberry collection definitely make everything better.
"I am what I am"
JR Rhine Dec 2016
A mannequin of flesh and bone
fallen from its pedestal
disappears among the turtlenecks.
Graff1980 Oct 2016
Signs for shopping
pollute the night
with their gaudy lights
pointing to my next
great buy.

But in my head I hear
the poor souls say
you do not want to
come this way
cause if you see my pain
you will have to change
or face your shame.

But I hide myself
inside my house
while the tv shows
our upper class,
high rise,
high life
that I can buy.
So, I work my way
into a community
of iron gates
and golden golf carts.

But in my heart
I hear the music play
songs of sorrow
free ranged runaways,
longing to get
just a fraction
of what I already have.

But with enough
music, and movies
I can distract myself
quite easily
so I don’t have to see
my own inhumanity.
It’s great to be me……isn’t it?
Joshua Haines Sep 2016
I'm an Amazombie in denim and fog,
Black and blue, and twenty-two:
a millennial with an oppressive blog.
***, money, and hipster brains --
condomless, rudderless, token.
I like the way you like the way
when I'm completely broken.
the Sandman Apr 2016
                         in light,
                In blinding light:
Lights on cars; and buildings;
and lit up trees lining lit up streets;
             Houses with sills all lined in gold
And diamond; silver glitter glued onto mould;
Street lamps; and laser pointers; and
Towers; neon lights dotted with flowers
Of plastic sun; hoardings and billboards,
With bright teeth and skin and red words
Everywhere you turn,
Telling you what you want
And never knew you wanted;
Shop windows; chandeliers;
Presents for that time of year;
Cell phone pylons with twinkling,
Bright lights on top, like Christmas trees;
Christmas trees, with stars and angels
Speckled, Frosted,
Dusted on the tops;
Disgusting glare on sunglasses,
And a smiting gaze along the arms;
Bridges and fountains with gold poured on;
Platinum bands in every size, laying all forlorn;
Bedside lamps; and taxis; and taxi stands;
Every window, but the ones
Being jumped off of;
TVs and refrigerators, opened
Thoughtlessly at night;
Screens shooting onto impassive glass
That used to be faces;
Cameras, going off in quick succession,
Quicker than you can keep up;
I'm drowning.
We are taught desire, in light,
We learn to read in light
and scarlet letters of fluorescence
We are blind,
Now that the road is paved for us,
To the light that was before.
Goodbye, jungle of pylons and scrapers of the sky. I will live among your shards no longer.

My first list poem (that actually remained a list poem by the time I was done with it)
the Sandman Apr 2016
Lack-luster, in dull
Clusters, tall pylons reign with
Gods that look like you.
JR Rhine Dec 2015
These days the human race
is red-faced
in a battle of wits and wallets
over a Walmart shopping cart

A Christmas wish in a shopping list
the ultimate gift
slaving over a hot stove for the perfect dish.

Christmas tradition
is more a religion
Crosby's voice
silky smooth over the radio airwaves

next to a roaring fire
surrounded by loved ones
while another outside loses their ear
to the cold.

From rags to riches
we're less familiar with the former
than the latter
we have to close our eyes

to silence the clatter
of sleigh bells a crackling fire
soothing Crosby and wishing wells
75 percent off and Hallmark originals

blinding Christmas lights up before our neighbor
lasting 'til the 4th of July
the only part of Christmas that makes it
beyond the winter season.

Lights still ever brighter in the hungry eyes
gazing upon shiny paper masking
a rectangular treasure trove of financial woes
shoved under the carpet 'til the tax returns
are our saving grace.

But what of the shining light
that pointed to a springing plight
foreshadowed in a squalid den
where a savior's life would begin?

He soon received gifts of men who lay at his feet
in worship of a hope in the flesh
they'd thought they would never meet

if the child only knew then that He would later be gifted with
a crown of thorns, the spit and curses of his friends, the kiss of a traitor, nails in his hands and feet to a splintered wooden cross.

What if we traded our presents for his presence
Sought our brothers and sisters in love because of his gift
one we could never have given but can graciously receive
one we will never deserve or earn but by his love we are set free.

If we set our eyes to the unseen how much more we will see clearly
that we can shed this wrapping paper like wiggling free of a spider's webbing
that we can no longer fret over the perfect gift because its already been given.

This Christmas season, lets get back to the reason
we love and we live, we laugh and we give
not in the vicious cycle of materialism and consumption
but in the holy light of grace and redemption.
A poem I wrote for my church's Christmas Eve services.
Nicholas Kurtz Dec 2015
We paint our lives on color film
Absorbing familiar reflection
And we watch as we live
So little in color film
We love, we ****
We bleed, we die
Do we think God is watching?

Do we think we are the reflection
Why are we watching?
Mountain sides and Lilly beds
Prairies and the mighty ocean
Now held in our hands
Nobody is there
Is anyone here
What is everyone watching?

Loneliness painted in window sills
Plasma radiation gleams on
White, pictureless walls

Watching sunsets
And passions flame
Lust pervert
Warm golden skin
Radiates tangerine
And the lonely feel
Painting red
On Blank slates
And fill with vacant desire

Million of on lookers
Alone, watching

Watching the world burn
Watching mothers cry
Watching beaches sludge
Watching deserts snow
Watching brave children die
Watching brothers betray
Watching love fail
Watching countries fall
Watching debts paid

Millions of miles of tapes and bits
Project a millions of protestant cries
Endlessly, eternally
Do we think God is watching?

Do we think?
While we're watching
Bathing in radiation
Children don't know how to read
Live their lives on
A television screen
A whole generation
Living vicariously
Do we think?

Millions of gray souls
And avid voters
Watch angry men spout nostalgic redirect
Watch their children live their lives
Watch game shows and advertisements
Watch the six o' clock news
Watch police shoot children in the street

A million beautiful, lonely people
Watch red carpet vanity
Watch million dollar celebrity parties
Watch the American dream lash the
Backs of the fuedal and disenfranchised
Watch depraved souls sacrifice self
For the company of fame

Meanwhile children don't read

Do we think?
A thought original
Is there any thing left to believe
Everyone so sure there's nothing they haven't seen
Nobody leaves their house
Nobody can bear to read
Just watch the world slip into insanity

Ignorance is the greatest weapon
Yet all I see is guns blazing
80 billion dollars to dry the desert
Not a one for education

American families gather
Around their TV screens
They can't stop watching
They're afraid of what they see
Do they think God is watching?

I hope God isn't watching
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