"brochures" poems
Once it was garbage, refuse, trash.
A jumble of foul-smelling detritus hauled to the curb
And removed by sinewy men
Contributing a harder day's work
Than anyone else in the city.
Our energy now removes its entropy.
Sorted and classified into coloured bins,
We add order to our rejected matter.
Specialized trucks arrive to collect
The date-synchronized bins
Emptying them into functionally compatible mechanisms.
Most desolate is the black box of paper and cardboard.
Brochures and flyers, old magazines and letters.
Annual reports and cereal boxes.
Once these were enameled with crafted sentences,
Painstakingly typed, edited and debated,
On the monitors of copywriters.
Now they are just millions of words printed on flattened fibre substrates,
Jumbled into the bruised and scarred black box,
Entering into the recycling stream.
The nouns and adjectives,
Prepositions and gerunds,
All jumble together.
Fragments of precisely-crafted sentences and paragraphs
Are gradually broken, shredded and pulped.
Incomplete thoughts, broken phrases
Like those of a rejected stranger
In an lonely, unknown country.
Then words without context.
Then just disparate letters
Are all that remain.
Their M ea N inG
G r a Du all y
is re mov
e d
.
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
Loving you is like going on vacation without any money.
Away from all the tourist attractions.
The best views all in walking distance.
The places no-one likes to go alone.
My heart no longer my own.
Following where ever you go.
With legs of its own.
It runs like a teenager,
Street after street .
Making faces, having fun.
Your voice a constant favorite heard on station after station.
My heart jerking in place, smiling.
Dancing to the sound.
Loving you is like going somewhere new.
Welcomed by friendly faces.
Shown the sights left off travel brochures, travel channels.
Loving you is a constant happy hour.
Strawberry & Mango margaritas on the house.
Loving you, being my favorite part
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 5:42 PM UTC
Our wonderful ad
features full frontal nudes
of chin chiseled, eye pleasing,
ab sculptured dudes.
Our ad shows designs,
simply put: haute couture
You can find all that’s fine intertwined in brochures
that assure,
our ad is a true work of art!
Epic music composed to impose on the heart.
Cheeky infants that dance
in suggestive red glow.
Gargantuan ****
filmed up close and
S -- L -- O -- W -- M -- O
...
Our ad?
Well, by god! It’s a wonderful show!
Cinematic façade that will strike all with awe!
With a well-crafted subtext encoded within
“ALL HAIL PROSTITUTION!”
“ABORTION IS SIN!”
Action!
Gunfire!
Blood!
Severed limbs all around!
Shattered windows!
Kung-fu that exceeds speeds of sound!
Monumental achievement!
Our ad will start soon!
But before, just a word from our sponsor
Stay tuned…
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
The way you spoke felt the way hot sand felt between my toes, a kind of painful pleasure that eventually made me run back to the ocean to cool off. You remind me of the ocean too, although not the ones seen in holiday brochures. More like the angry part of the ocean I saw in Spain years ago, rising high and mighty above me, putting me in my place. It even knocked me down, just like you did.
I don't regret knowing you, I just regret loving you. I regret surrounding myself with you and your incapability to love anything other than yourself, your incapability to care about anything that didn't directly involve you. How sad, how unfair that I am left here to drown in self-loathing and you are still out there, still happy, still care-free, still clueless about what you did to me.
I miss something particular about you; not your hands, not your lips, not anything near your skin. I miss the little neurotic pieces of your mind and the way you said my name that night. Most of all, I miss just having someone to talk to. How stupid of me to convince myself you are all I need, only to have you leave like everybody else. It's frightening that even though I am surrounded by people, you're the only person that really exists to me, the only person that made me realise I'm not alone. And God, I am so lonely.
I'm leaving. I'm scattering my soul to the wind in the hope I'll find myself someday. Try to love yourself and next time, fall in love with someone who looks at you as though he can see your soul more than he can see your skin. Stop looking for reasons to die and start searching for reasons to live. You are worth more than what you settle for. You are not alone.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 11:49 AM UTC
"Take a throne, we're all royalty here"
Said the Master of Ceremonies to The Peeping Tom, The Spokesperson, The Wretch and The One Man Band
He pulled out the syllabus
It said that each of his colleges must fulfill a duty if they wanted membership into this social club
The One Man Band had to seek out a impudent amputee, a touchy nomad and give them brochures to a day spa
The Spokesperson was asked to to find his inner child, his feminine side and his sensitive side while making good conversation with Arch Duke Franz Ferdinand and ask him why he holds a grudge against Bosnia
The Wretch was given the task to sell Avon products to those who looked like death warmed over and sway their urges to burn their candles at both ends
Lastly, the Peeping Tom was told to teach the languid, rough and tumble lipid worshiping people the number line then pass out pamphlets on healthy living
After reviewing their work and the rubric, the Master of Ceremonies congratulated them, they were in
"You will all now be a part of history, figures on this brotherhood's timeline; you fit the bill!"
They all got up as the Wretch footed the bill and went on to go wassailing
-Tommy Johnson
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
The world is like a pizza.
Circle w/ a crust.
Pepperoni rocks, tomato water
Leaves of pepper greens
Some pineapple trees
And land of cheese!
The core of pizza saver,
Mountains of Olives!
The rain of saliva's
Coming in!
And some tornado stomach
Striking free!
Please deliver the world to me!
The brochures, it's making me hungry!
When other's already got
A slice of it.
While some,
Are now tired of it.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 7:35 AM UTC
The American Cremation society
Is offering 'hot deals'” this week.
We get pitches for Pfizer's ******
by snail mail, on Facebook, by Tweet.
Brochures for an all senior residence
litter our nightstand these days.
There silver haired ladies and gentlemen
pop pills for their nightly forays.
There are bankruptcy ads on the radio
to help manage credit card debt.
There are pill ads to help me remember
what drink used to help me forget.
The cars that they hawk to us seniors
Are designed to just putter around
Not for me Candy apple red Corvettes
To race about with the top down..
I’m stuck in the prune demographic
Where ensure and ex lax abound.
I still have my own teeth, and don’t need drugs to sleep,
But my Glasses have yet to be found…..
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 9:09 AM UTC
Suicide me again oh love
it hurts to be overwhelmed with your humiliating zealous lust
my genitals nimbus like a glowing golden peach
so ripe corruption is shadowing hungrily
At church I forget I am an animal
slowly poisoned by communion , candles , brochures , verses ,
beautiful music of the spheres exalts all singers absolved
Purity lends me a shackle and a guiltless time on my knees
**** this pain these senses
basic needs met and yet i fret
particulars stick in my eye
I can't see how horrible i am
when i watch csi
my dna can betray me with babies and jail time
God please bless the homeless and starving far far away
while i am starving for pleasure as my overfed ego takes the last
bite of icecream eaten to avoid feeling alone
I hate this commericial
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 9:15 PM UTC
dreaming
you wore my jeans
we laughed at tourists
i shot
your every move
with my camera
looking at travel brochures
burnt fig icecream
first coffee date
water's edge
you stabbed me
with your spoon
i floated
out to sea
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 8:30 AM UTC
I.
My mother places a dot of
Vermillion
On my forehead the same hands
That have helped
Bury a million
Unborn babies in the lush green
Fields that the brochures display
II.
The young bride enters her groom's house
Her alta colored feet leave red
Bloodstains in her wake
A young girl trails behind
places her little feet
in the same prints and
Waits
III.
The gotar mali has her arms tied above
Her head and her legs splayed blood
Drops from her body and the officials
Frame it in a green background and
call it a flag, call it a country, call it a
Dying woman's honor
IV.
My mother places a dot of
Vermillion
on my forehead
And I wonder if it's way of
branding
Women with an honor
they did not ask for
And cannot control
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 2:09 AM UTC
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Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 4:46 AM UTC
She invited me into her home
apologizing for the lack of things there.
I could tell that she had renovated recently,
getting rid of the things that no longer
served purpose.
I thought of her as timely,
a perfect harmony of sage & mint candles
burning on a black glass coffee table.
about halfway through,
I realized how much I loved her home.
while she apologized in the beginning
less is more & it showed by way of her smile.
I enjoyed how everything was laid out,
from the brochures of comfort to the cushion
of where I sat.
the greatest intimacy between us two.
laughing at everything yet nothing at the same time.
but still I thought, how much she inspired me to do
the same when I got home.
everything that I thought was beautiful before
no longer had that same appeal.
when i extended the same invitation,
I too found myself apologizing for things
that needed no explanation.
my biggest source of inspiration,
I was glad to see her growth
& in turn stopped chasing the wrong things,
I learned from her
That everything is going to be alright
Nov 17, 2021
Nov 17, 2021 at 8:41 AM UTC
I cleared my desk today
I trashed pieces of paper, old receipts and movie tickets
I crushed and tossed letters and brochures
Perhaps its nothing to many of you
A simple clearing, of items that you no longer need
But to me, it was so much more than that
In this mass of what others may call trash
are items that hold memories and scrapped futures
Because I remember them all
Every movie we went for
Every cafe we visited
Every letter or piece of news that
we struggled or celebrated together
It was landfill of triggers that I was rummaging through eyes wide open
I was exposed
This gravity was craving in
Like an insurmountable weight
Place on top my chest
I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see
You've tried for months I told myself
Today's the day you will do it
Put those memories away
But how did I do it you ask?
How was it possible to no longer feel?
Truth is, I felt it all.
The weight still came in waves
As each item still screamed for its place to stay
But I was no longer in the mood for mercy
For they have haunted me long enough
Piece by piece, I was being set free
Perhaps what I felt in all these moments was genuine
Perhaps I only felt what I wanted to
Perhaps all I did was layer to stay longer in your storm
To keep you company, to lift you up
But it mattered not
For I knew that starting today
I no longer wanted to feel that way
For this is not the love I want not deserve
So for the last time
I did what I had to
Just like when you were in lalaland
I kissed the only picture you let me keep
With the same feeling of longing in my heart
But today, it was goodbye.
With that,
I placed you far and high
Out of my reach
I cleared my desk today
Removed all the artefacts
That I marked my precious
I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see
But I knew it was necessary
I knew deep down that I had more to give
But it mattered not
For it was time to go.
To all the things that weren't meant to be
I'm here saying my final apologies
For I knew that my rage is strength
For I knew that I had more to give
For I knew that this was not the end of my story
For I knew that I am grateful for all that life has given
The people, the love, the pain, the suffering
I love and am thankful for it all
But still a mark has not been made
And my fire lies unsatisfied
My fate calls for my awakening once more
And this time,
There are no chains on me
No gravity that shall bound me
No fear that will stop me
For deep in me, I feel power
Power that will allow me to
walk the path that is dark and unknown
For I am wiser and stronger
Than I have ever been
Let's do this, round 2.
Jun 25, 2020
Jun 25, 2020 at 11:03 AM UTC
i am on the platform at the railway station.
Most days I board a train.
On the other days I just look at the brochures and the timetables.
At night I sleep in the waiting room.
My partner sleeps there too.
In the morning he goes down to the village
Where the folk have settled
Like sediment.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC
*I do not know her given name.
Everyone called her Misty
Perhaps because she floated unnoticed
in a misty ethereal calm .
He noticed her quiet countenance
and he controlled her every thought.
He was powerful strong controlling
Misty disappeared even further
into the vapor that was her.
She followed him like cargo
to be taken places.
Never to choose herself
When I looked into her ice blue eyes
seeing the sadness she held inside.
The need to be herself slowly
dying within her.
People would say of them
What does he see in her?
She’s so laid back and dreamy.
She has nothing to offer.
Just a flat personality.
Then one day Misty stood up
and she broke free from him.
Traveled to places she had only
seen in glossy
Brochures and magazines.
She had adventures in other places
that were not even in travel magazines.
Places she once thought
she would never ever go to.
Well!
Not on her own anyway.*
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 4:59 PM UTC
YOU may be in the museum about cheese, glass art, bicycle history, or history of wooden bags. Not waiting for anything. And I just have time to steal travel brochures, offer a route around town, at the door of the hotel restaurant, after a lazy breakfast I chewed.
You may be among the crowds at the Arc de Triomphe monument, at the end of the Champs-Élysées. A digital screen is spread out, a row of chairs is laid out, and the big flag is flown. An ordinary man, preparing an unusual speech, that evening.
You may be in the departure room of the Frankfurt Airport, with the Arab Emirates airline tickets, disrupting the chaotic time, saying goodbye to the cold German weather, which I had previously tried to greet.
You must be somewhere, making some sort of experiment with distance and time, testing a hypothesis. And you smile, imagine the witty thing you will later conclude. And I do not stop guessing what's possible.
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 1:17 PM UTC
I once thought I could be as great as sejong the great
Read all history books and brochures
Never ending poem love
Came in like a wildfire
Geek life got fun
I could fry them all in a pan
Out of nowhere I became Solomon
Started to admire the moon
Night became more beautiful
Jun 22, 2020
Jun 22, 2020 at 12:22 PM UTC
Florida,
You raised us in South.
With a palm tree mentality,
I can't find paradise.
In this heat I feel paralyzed,
Returned on a plane from the mid west,
thought I was doing what I knew best.
The UV rays ****** with my head, creating a false oasis.
The only rays they tell you to **** with are those called Raybans, so we can look like the rest of us.
Suggested tan like the rest of us.
Skin damaged like the rest of us.
Drink martinis like the rest of us.
Sometimes I feel like tour brochures got the best of us.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
Three in the morning, halfway
through my shift at a printing
plant. I'm tired as always, my
mind frazzled, my eyes bleary.
I'm creeping through the night
as I proofread technical manuals
and pharmaceutical ads and
brochures aimed at type two
diabetics. I'm on life support
here, stuck in a depressing gray
environment, a vampire on the
graveyard shift, the burial
ground of too many aging English
majors struggling to make a buck
while the rest of the world is home
asleep, dreaming in color, people
whose minds and bodies will forever
have a normal relationship with
sunlight.
As I proofread, I listen to talk radio
with its opinionated personalities,
irate callers, and nocturnal candor,
all of it making those Sinatra-like
wee small hours of the morning fly
by like a moth rushing toward
a bright burning bulb.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 11:45 AM UTC
She showers me in gifts and stories,
My dad sits alone,
My dad told me that it's good to cry sometimes,
My mom tells me to stop feeling sorry for myself,
I'll cry,
Not for myself but for the war that has begun,
My mothers army includes the guns of exaggeration and gifts,
My dad brings forth solitude and destiny,
She'll fire her guns as my dad does nothing,
I sit in no mans land and ponder the future,
I silence the noises outside to concentrate on my... the thoughts in my head,
The propaganda that is set in front of my mother are tempting,
Along the signs lay threats of abandonment for treason,
But my father silently proclaims the relief of the words that my mother uses,
He preaches the schools and education,
My mother commercializes the freedom of substantial proportions,
So as my mom fires her pamphlets of chocolate,
My dad telepathically opens university brochures in my head, in the middle of no mans land
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 11:58 PM UTC
Brochures of tourist traps,
read aloud from the passenger seat, spoken in
ambivalence;
never closer to our
destination, but
only further away from
nowhere.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
Like the four horsemen
They're walking two abreast
In brown with clipboards;
Bulging satchels hang by their sides,
With brochures and pamphlets
For me, who looks down from my window,
To ponder when they leave.
The crowd on the hill is talking,
Gathering, nothing's still.
All ages, colors and creeds,
Smiling, grasping, awaiting his will.
It looks like earth they're offering,
Year after year the same.
Casting nets, these fishermen,
Fishermen beget.
They're card said they were sad to miss me.
They take it from the young and old,
The ill and hale, and all between.
They are the cream between the wafers,
These Guides and their cookies.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 10:10 AM UTC
The basic texts, dictionaries,
letters, strategies, risks, events,
publications and the interpretation
of whores' literature and translation,
especially 1, are permanently
deleted. Literary abstracts: literature,
literary stories, historical books,
***** and board of directors.
Theory of Iniforishinelli: this article
prints publications and forms for
the promotion of prostitution
and the programs used to publish
prohibited drugs. 29 other examples
of publications, cleaning standards,
articles, letters, good road network,
credentials, events, police
officers 1: descriptions
of key functions, especially
the best long-term artistic
values. Great epic literature,
literary texts, history books,
participation in the council,
concepts of medical
information programs.
This ***** edition
and the impact
on ****** purity.
Other samples:
Creative,
Common,
Brochures,
New brochure.
Dictionary of basic definitions,
letters, good methods,
accidents, incidents, police
interpretations. Basic writing,
particularly high and durable
artistic values. The best literature;
Summary of communication
articles, texts, recognition
of articles, letters and integrated
maps. This publication of Women
and Drug Trafficking (narcotics /
29 and observations of other texts,
creative writing of literary texts
and sources) Letters, good tactics,
identities, political definitions
1 Basically, The work is considered
the best for long periods of modern
texts, literature and nicotine.
Books, compositions Tables
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Drugs for women's articles,
emphasizing the difference
between the program and
the effectiveness of the use
of medicines 29 ******
and other units to create
the same samples, creative
writing articles for Publications.
New brochures and promotional
material ... literary dictionaries,
letters, tactics, accidents, events
and interpretations of police
publications. 1 Literary work
is particularly high or permanent.
The best summaries of literature:
writing, literary literature,
history books, summary table.
Theory of information:
this article deals
with published publications
****** and the proliferation
of prostitution for
the publication of criminals
of drug abuse programs.
29 Examples of other hygiene
criteria: Publication Prints articles,
letters, good roads, certifications,
events, literary definitions of the police
that have 1 basic writing,
particularly good long-term for the arts.
Great works written poetry,
written texts, historical books,
county councils. Information
theory: this publication reviews
the reviews of drug treatment
programs and the implications
for ****** hygiene.
Other samples of similar samples:
Creative Commons Publishing
New brochures. Translations
of definitions of basic logical
dictionaries, letters,
good methods, disasters,
phenomena, definitions
of police literature. Essentially
1 written work, especially
those considered superior
or of lasting artistic values.
Great literary work.
Summary: written works,
written bibliography, bibliographic
texts, complex boards of directors.
Bibliography examples: this article
is published literature on the *****
scope and efficacy of the substance
abuse treatment program for women.
29 Other examples of compliance
with education. Creative creation
of literary texts Publication
Brochures; New offers
Translations to basic logical
definitions of dictionaries, letters,
good methods, idiosyncrasies,
phenomena, definitions of literary
police. Essentially written work,
especially those considered better
or longer artistic values. Great
literary work. Written works,
written bibliography, bibliographic
texts, complex boards of directors.
Bibliographic examples:
this article evaluates
the published literature
on the whores' scope
and effectiveness
of programs to combat
substance abuse in women.
29 Other samples of equivalent literature;
Creative writing's Creation of literary text
Brochures of New promotional publications.
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 2:50 PM UTC
*I do not know her given name.
Everyone called her Misty
Perhaps because she floated unnoticed
in a foggy ethereal calm .
He noticed her quiet countenance
and he controlled her every thought.
Powerful strong controlling
Misty disappeared even further
into the vapor that was her.
She followed him like cargo
to be taken places.
Never to choose for herself
When I looked into her ice blue eyes
seeing the sadness she held inside.
The need to be herself dying within her.
People would say of them
What does he see in her?
She’s so laid back and dreamy.
She has nothing to offer.
Just a flat personality.
Then one day
she broke free from him
Traveled to places she had only
seen in glossy travel
brochures and magazines.
She had adventures in other places
that were not even in travel magazines.
Places she once thought
she would never ever go to.
Well! Not on her own anyway.*
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 10:30 PM UTC
You can get off
for half hour
and look around
if you want
the coach driver said
what's this place?
Miriam said
it's Valladolid
he said
so we got off
and walked off around
and we found a cafeteria
and sat outside
and a camarerro
took our order
and we sat there
and Miriam said
isn't Spain good
I mean you read about it
and the brochures
but when you get here
it's quite something
isn't it?
yes I guess it is
although they mostly
show the best places
I guess even here
there are slums
and places you'd not
want to wander
too far in the dark
she raised an eyebrow
so? but most places
are out of this world
Pluto is out of this world
but don't mean
I'd like to go there
I said
you're just being awkward
she said
she crossed her legs
and sat looking
away from me
I liked her red hair
tight curled
and the way her *****
kind of stuck out
in the tee shirt
she was wearing
and the red shorts
o I liked red
so intimate
and the way her leg
crossed over the other
it's a good sight
I said
plenty to see
she turned
and gazed at me
you like it?
sure good to look at
and better to be
about it makes the eyes
glad to be alive
glad you like it
she said
all this way we've come
and to see it up close
yes I like it up close
I said
she smiled
and I liked her smile
her eyes sparkled
like sunlight in water
and the camarero came out
with our order
and we sat drinking
our coffees
and nibbling the cakes
and she said
glad you like the view
I smiled
o I do
I said
I do.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 2:23 AM UTC