#commercial
By the power of suggestion
Vested in me
I now pronounce you
Commercial advertisement
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 11:41 AM UTC
Trust is not commercial, because trading or exchanging wears upon one's very truth isn't exactly well thought out. It only comes about, when one's very truth isn't (not) exactly commercial. But when trust isn't truth, when one's very wears aren't as thought out as it was to begin with. Scrambling many believes until one most tired (thought out) engagement, began to unscramble back into "trust is not commercial"!
Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 10:24 PM UTC
Your name became the jingle
I hated from the moment heard
Then found myself singing it
The following morning
So catchy beneath my lips
It tangled into muscle memory
Too weak to loosen the grip
Of horrendous rhythm
Now laughter brews from concern
That it will never leave my mind
Thankfully
I've prepared for these occasions
Firstly, find distractions
As to
Stuffing my mouth
Clouding my mind
But it only stunts
My new nature
To repeat the sweet ring
Your name gives my heart
I cannot part from the joy
It brings to me like
The coolest toy I begged for
But what I know now all too well is that toy
Will become an afterthought
Collect dust on the tallest shelf
I'll never bother reaching
And I'll move on to the next catchy jingle
Let it marinate in my diaphragm
And allow it to eat me up entirely
Leaving me hollow
Only left with bits and pieces of all
The names I sang
To keep me company
****
I wish I never heard any
Of those **** Jingles
Jul 20, 2020
Jul 20, 2020 at 6:01 PM UTC
It comes in, sparkling and exciting,
with the promise of fun and zest
like a mist dappled with thrills
but it is a false promise
like the allurements of commercials
with smiling faces and a myriad of glitz
it ends in a state of shame
controlled by lords of the dark
and the owners of hell.
I brim over with gratitude for love
and the forces of beauty and mercy
that break the trance -
the spell always ending
with the unlit inglorious state of shame.
Jun 5, 2020
Jun 5, 2020 at 9:09 AM UTC
There on a
Wing of a Boeing
Was Garfield
A cat
Walking on the wing
At 30,000ft in the air.
Am I hallucinating
Or dreaming
Or is the reality??!!
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 7:03 PM UTC
As I see a
Boeing jet
Take off
Form the airport
So fat and so happy
I can feel
The freedom
It’s gaining.
How I wish it was me.
As I see a Boeing jet
Land
At the airport
Still fat and still happy
I feel like a captive
For it is not free
Due to weather and gravity.
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 8:21 PM UTC
Gimme a break from the long day at work.
A piece of mind that doesn't fly by soon as it starts.
Not of discrimination but of a demanding boss.
Time but a snap of a bar.
Gimme a break from negative interpretation.
In terms of being under appreciated.
A smile that encourages the rest of the day to come that much faster.
The commercial before we continue our regular scheduled programming.
Gimme a break before our stature completely seperates.
If only for a moment.
To savor a taste stumbled upon in bulk.
Complex in the pieces we give of ourselves.
Chocolate covered us wrapped in orange.
Fully appreciated in standout appearance.
The smile brought to my mouth.
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 10:34 PM UTC
How I wish to disappear
completely, to unplug fully,
til I shut down-deep-withdrawn
and there focus on something
that's more internal
and less commercial,
less self-evidently marketable -
something less brand
and more a brand new venture,
out of sight, of mind
and of a sense of duty
to myself,
to the me I left behind -
somewhere less,
somewhere small,
where the music inside
was clearer
and nearer
to the first bars
of the first song
when I first sang along.
Oh, how can I disappear
completely and get myself ready
for my next swan song?
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 4:21 PM UTC
Husks of chopped evergreen
discarded by the sidewalk
tied to trash,
weeping pine needles
only hope to be compost.
Deflated decoration litter the lawns,
red and green strewn about
lights flickered and burnt out.
Expired eggnog, chicken bones,
crumpled wrapping paper,
empty boxes, metal reindeer,
tinsel and broken candy canes.
Dead christ is still in the holiday,
while we spoke about the night before
we forget we can see him
the morning after.
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 3:16 PM UTC
A mannequin of flesh and bone
fallen from its pedestal
disappears among the turtlenecks.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 10:06 PM UTC
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.
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 6:22 PM UTC
I hate messing up a poem, because that means I realized there's mistakes in my perfect video mural I made into a commercial for a special length tv drama called my life.
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 1:14 PM UTC
Drowning inside hands.
A fluorescent chime.
Skin scrubbed radiation.
Force-feeding plastic and sugar and flesh.
Pushing and pulling until tendons flail weathered
Up. And. Down.
Up and down upanddown until the store of powders, prints, nails tumble out carmine and is sobbing
gagging on a high chair.
The candied calculator like heart-shaped pupils and sticky soles.
Opaque ID’s and strands of you abandoned in navy sheets.
Shoulder tassels taught on Adam’s apple.
Love stitches bedding and hollows bodies.
Love lights the West and lines waste baskets wet.
Love is a little girl vomiting into a lion’s den.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC