"merchandise" poems
Out of lemon flowers
loosed
on the moonlight, love's
lashed and insatiable
essences,
sodden with fragrance,
the lemon tree's yellow
emerges,
the lemons
move down
from the tree's planetarium
Delicate merchandise!
The harbors are big with it-
bazaars
for the light and the
barbarous gold.
We open
the halves
of a miracle,
and a clotting of acids
brims
into the starry
divisions:
creation's
original juices,
irreducible, changeless,
alive:
so the freshness lives on
in a lemon,
in the sweet-smelling house of the rind,
the proportions, arcane and acerb.
Cutting the lemon
the knife
leaves a little cathedral:
alcoves unguessed by the eye
that open acidulous glass
to the light; topazes
riding the droplets,
altars,
aromatic facades.
So, while the hand
holds the cut of the lemon,
half a world
on a trencher,
the gold of the universe
wells
to your touch:
a cup yellow
with miracles,
a breast and a ******
perfuming the earth;
a flashing made fruitage,
the diminutive fire of a planet.
42.1k
In Anaheim the ultimate celebration begins,
People traveling from all over with fat grins
Luke, Leia, 3PO, R2
Autographs, merchandise, cosplay too.
Tattoos, nerd dating, panels and games
Sea of Slave Leias and other costumed dames
Everything you’ve ever wanted and more
This is the place you’re looking for
Fly solo, or come with family and friends
Party like a Jedi until the festivities end
From Lost to Disney, thank you JJ
Star Wars is back in a big bad way
Fans rejoice, happiness deep as a Sarlacc pit
There’s been an awakening, can you feel it?
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
The pavement having a merchandise name
Merchandising sales being the aim
Markdowns throughout any retail store
The array of assortments a consumer just can’t ignore
Yet watch how the consumer spends their money
The consumer will be broke, but certainly not the only
Plastic credit cards that could get you into trouble
This could cause your interest rates to double
But I one should only buy what they actually need
However unnecessary things with no need to proceed
Retail prices coming from a Buyer’s advice
Watch the price and shopping being wise
Fashion designers with a eye for your appeal and style
All through the theory the consumer is thinking during while
Well retail stores have much they want the consumer to explore
But with prices slashed here and over there, the consumer becomes not being sure
Perhaps having will power is something no one should ignore
Money saved with nothing being spent
No question needing to be asked as to where your money went.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
Earlier today, painting was the activity that we had planned
I have a support teacher who would always lend a hand
She had left the class to get the paint all mixed
While I stayed behind to get the toys and props all fixed
She came back and bore bowls of red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Lunchtime I visited a store and neatly displayed on low shelves
Arranged so immaculately as if magically done by elves
Were cases upon cases stitched together with only zips
They almost instantly bent a smile to my lips
Their colours shone brilliant red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Passed by a shop selling accessories and apparel
Merchandise dangled on wall hooks and some in a jumble
On the adjacent wall something caught my eye
Carried all the neat little tote bags one could ever buy
One peeking from a corner was red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Walked by a building, so modern-looking and new
Down on one side almost obscured from view
Were these horizontal rows of dancing neon lights
Stopped for a minute just to soak in the sights
Then I realised that they flickered red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Waited for the bus to get home at my usual bus stop
Whilst waiting, I shifted and from my bag something did drop
Bent over and picked my coin pouch that had fallen out
Looked up only to see another commuter lingering about
On his pack was a sticker which boasted red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Bus was packed, found a seat in the back row
Sat myself down, I peered briefly out the window
Engine under me, I scanned around to those who were seated
Observed the floor beneath my shoes as it vibrated
My pair of Adidas, oh my, they're red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Got home, put my bag down and sank into the sofa
Switched on the telly, on was the Food Network's "Barefoot Contessa"
Surfed through the channels, caught a real estate commercial
Promoting prime land in a country not anywhere regional
Splashed on the screen, a flag - red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
End of the day, it is best that I hit the sack
Allow some rest for my poor aggravated back
But not till I complete the words you're currently reading
I'm thinking, dreaming and furiously typing
How do I end this? Hmm...red, white and blue?
I'm thinking and dreaming...and wishing I'm with you.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
I thought I might be a musician
Mom couldn’t afford my lessons
My eyesight wasn’t great
I couldn’t read notes fast enough
Practicing annoyed the family
I only managed last chair, 2nd violins
But still
I got to play in High School concerts
In shiny dresses with glitter in my hair
However
I haven’t held a violin in years
I loaned mine to a Bluegrass band
The leader died - and it was gone
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
I thought I might become a dancer
But my fingers can not touch the floor
I couldn’t kick much higher than my waist
Choreography was hard for me to learn
I had the stamina if not the skill
My partner wanted someone else
But still
I danced on stage in a college play
And Morris Danced at the Old Globe Theatre
However
I’ve forgotten how to keep the beat
And all the dance floor moves I made
I’m too self conscious now to try
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
I fancied I could be a singer
I knew the words to all the songs
And I could keep the melody in tune
But I had a voice with no vibrato
And the quality was thin
My range was very limited
But still
I sang Blueberry Hill at a talent show
In a black lame’ dress and surprised a few
However
I couldn’t get the hang of harmony
And found I fit best in a choir
My family wouldn’t hear my solos
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
I thought that I was born an actress
I practically got that one right
I had a lead in an Ibsen play
And toured the state with Macbeth
But Hollywood was one big casting couch
And I could see no way around it
But still
I got to be on TV shows
Winning games and merchandise
However
I sold the Firebird Convertible I won
I needed rent money more than a car
And rules allow you only three shows in a lifetime
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
I always thought I was a poet
I started young and never stopped
But family ignored and scoffed
Then I got trapped inside my mirror
And only wrote when all was beak
Somebody said my stuff was dreary
But still
I stumbled on the HP website
And found a group who like the words I write
However
When I read the others’ writes
I realize how limited my skills
And fight the need to run away and hide.
∞
It seems I dabbled in all the arts
Looking for the one that fit me
And finding they all needed alteration
And I never had the proper needle
∞
Still, a moment in the sun
Is better than a lifetime in the shade
I had a taste of everything
Though the banquet was not mine.
ljm
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 12:24 PM UTC
"MIXED FEELING."
The saints
are always
crook: why.?
They have
none tolerance for ********* Yes
believe me
they don't,
even Christ
Jesus didn't. Nonetheless
though He
quoted "When your
right cheek
is slapped turn
the left side."
that's no ******** it's
what make
a Saint. But
He hesitated
not to chase the Merchandise
out the
Lord's temple.
********* are: like, sometimes where positivity is
anticipated finding negativity there
right is
the biggest
******** in the
whole wide
crazy world.
Full of
crazy thangz, crazy people living crazy lifestyle. Wide
life, out
the jungle,
homicides, massacre Wonder why we breathing, when
we living to
die. Or I'm
high? (Sigh)
when will the
world halt being ridiculously
crazy. Said
they he's
zany. Plagued
the sages
mad. However
sages are the
last hopes
to heal
the world.
Corona-virus
army, enemy
agent of segregation. What right have
you to black
me, who am
I to white
a brother. ?
When we
looked just
the same, being humanbeing.
How to become
human, Auth-positive thinking faculty, creativity,
optimism build only, nothang but
possibility. Innovation, inspiration,
motivation.
Here rode
time on the
road to glory
is there any future anywhere.? if
there ever is
a time for
everythang
le' me use
mine now. I
was told
the future
is now, I
wanna live
it unfolding
my pages
stepping the
stair cases,
roller coaster,
fortune searching
I
ride slow,
nonetheless
I gets heading
I should rush
not, yet
on steadily.
#C9_fm
May 16, 2021
May 16, 2021 at 5:08 PM UTC
Disfigurement
to a one time pretty boy
is like
finding out that I'm positive all over again
a tower of rubble
to the chest
another death sentence rolled out
just in time for the new year
a new contagion of scar tissue
and self-doubt
self-loathing and your disgust
turning me away in the rain
and if it hadn't been you
it will eventually be a whole line of others
whom no longer wish to sample
this drama queen's merchandise
of defilement
and raw pain
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 8:15 AM UTC
it's 8:00 somewhere in Washington D.C.
and the global selection committee has made its picks:
for the 473rd time
all the number one seeds are filled by countries
that break the most rims and shatter the most glass.
here we have the U.S of the North American region
taking on Haiti, cos the poorest countries
always place no higher than 14.
China of the Asia region has drawn
Nepal,
Israel gets Palestine,
and Italy pulls Ethiopia.
There are no African countries-
they didn't make the tournament this year.
No problem tho,
the selection committee figures
they've been beaten up
too many times
to even make a layup.
Games start tmrw
so grab your favorite basketball merchandise
and keep the channel set.
There will be no upsets
so don't bother
pulling for the underdog.
They've already been
neutered, anyway.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
Venus eye trap please
Accept my humblest apologies
for allowing these normally perfectly well behaved pupils
To rove carelessly across this shuddering carriage
And interlock with your own
For just a fraction
Of a moment
Too long.
From two rows ahead
On the 42 bus.
Through no fault of my own I was caught off guard by a sudden and unexpected spike in interest,
That caused my eyes, hypnotized
To run their boorish and misogynistic fingers over the gleaming contours of your beautiful
Ivory toothed smile.
Stolen goods. Simply intercepted.
Not delivered to this godforsaken countenance
But to the infinitely more charming
Disembodied voice at the end of the line
Invisible, omnipotent
He's just shared with you what must be the best joke ever told by man.
Yes! I greedily consumed the ill-gotten merchandise and shamefully enjoyed it.
Quivering with benign, desperate exhilaration like the man whose jaw is slowly locking around the cold and tasteless barrel of a gun.
Press no charge. It won't happen again.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 5:40 AM UTC
busy verbalizing my merchandise
a display of teeth reefed behind my smile
because merchandise is what i am after
and The Revels watch over me
and laughter drains down through sewer grates
i am watched over
my potential client walks away
but returns again with queries
on this hot day
a smell like burnt hair raises from the gutters
and these are the streets that radiate
on this hot day
an honest clash and not some some touchy bout
and here we are
the costly coil of pushing business together ;
a lively thrive
thrifty **** you"s and a dressing down
circling the other and striking their buttons
interlaced within is a genuine pressing
toward each other goals
this partnership
swiftly made
has an extreme edge and chaotic balance
the both of us must master or abandon our productivity
shall we be served by this union
or sever fighting ?
unfit
it swerves and suffers a pity
let's keep this one brief
we manage business
handshakes
and scowl away with our wares
each of us feeling equally scammed
(we've made useful enemies at best)
i break out laughing all the same-how
and howl because i feel
that feeling that this could go on forever
and business has roots in all my moods
i crouch at the curb
the curb is abrasive
i sit
i look at the dry heat radiating off the tarmac
the slight greasy lime taste of the air passing
the roof of my mouth
the electric wires running hum into the buildings
the storm drains at the edges of the roads
where laughter siphons down to the magma of Hades
it is waning off now
and i feel vague
i stand and i scan for more players
i spot a vivid orange one
one that i may barter their aura of vigour
traded for my sketchy wares
Mar 12, 2022
Mar 12, 2022 at 9:55 AM UTC
Many little children wander by
Ogling the window shops’ merchandise
Replaying dreams of Christmas past
Inside their infinite minds
As a glimmer of possibility
Hopes to peek through the July heat
— Moriah J. Chace
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
*no wonder i watch *********** it's a moral struggle these days downing a whiskey trying to down america 1930s. al capone would have laughed with me i'm sure, and shouted: cuba! cuba! fiddle castrato! well, there was the violin to mind in tao when the castratos masturbated;. oh look... the pope! where’s my bishop purple and cardinal red? down the toilet, with the goldfish i’m assured: bobs the necktie password concerning the onomatopoeia the bubbles made when appearing: bubbles are called bob... ok?*
it was only an old man attired
in the usual monochrome of gray,
so i walked,
scratched a stone wall,
and by the 2nd gesture similis i
pulled my hand scratching toward my chest
to resemble a stone heart:
equivalent chinese? small is european stone:
writing this i missed six knuckles and felt the rest.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 10:28 PM UTC
XIX
The soul’s Rialto hath its merchandise;
I barter curl for curl upon that mart,
And from my poet’s forehead to my heart
Receive this lock which outweighs argosies,—
As purply black, as erst to Pindar’s eyes
The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart
The nine white Muse-brows. For this counterpart, . . .
The bay-crown’s shade, Beloved, I surmise,
Still lingers on thy curl, it is so black!
Thus, with a fillet of smooth-kissing breath,
I tie the shadows safe from gliding back,
And lay the gift where nothing hindereth;
Here on my heart, as on thy brow, to lack
No natural heat till mine grows cold in death.
1.8k
I am actually a huge fan of Banksy and thoroughly enjoyed Dismaland but the A level kids I teach at a school just down the road from Weston couldn't get in because they've got Art P2. We wrote letters and sent emails but had no reply. They were very disillusioned by it all so their art teacher decided to take them to Dismaland and show some of their work on the grass outside. Security were not impressed and called the police. We made a film about it and I read this poem at the gates. This is the first part.
So this is where this tale will start,
Of What is Banksy? Who is art?
You're the joke now, don't you see?
This ****** ticket lottery,
For crazy cats who play the rules
Not you poor buggers stuck in schools
Can’t press refresh at the stroke of ten
Cos that's exactly the time when
the bell rings for art to begin
The irony is lost on him.
No tickets in your grubby hand
Cos schools cant afford the broadband.
Don't look at me with dismal faces
You lot sure are going places
Yep, you're all sat on a train
Going to weston in the rain
Who do you lot think you are?
No movie queens nor a rock star
You don't fly in from LA
You don't even have a card to pay
No Damien's, No Brad. No Suze.
Pack up your dreams kids,
Born to lose.
Like a load of buckets to the factory gate
Where we'll have to stand and stand and wait
He is not Wonka, he's not your friend,
This Charlie gets nothing in the end.
So looks like we might not get in,
Stare them down kids, take ours to him.
Banksy Inc. has made these choices,
But they can't silence all our voices.
Helllooooooo Banksy?
Are you there?
Going to show these kids you care?
Open up those hallowed portals
For this lot of mere mortals?
They've brought stuff they want to show
It's really very good you know
Because they made it from the heart
Not for a calendar of street art
You know? Like how you used to be?
Before they showed you on TV.
They protest about stuff for reals,
And soon be snapping at the heels
Of all the London folk in there
Sell for a million but pretend they care.
Come on Banksy they'll be good
Take their selfies like they should.
Come on Banksy, just be nice,
They'll snap up all your merchandise
And shuffle round the park like drones
Take out pocket money loans.
Listen kids, this isn't working,
Banksy's in his rolls and shirking,
We don't need to storm the walls
We can show them we've got *****
By standing here and giving free
What they've all spent five quid to see.
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 3:47 PM UTC
Delusions of grandeur abound. Sophistication and advancement are sold to the masses and deceptive merchandise is purchased with a commodity which is trivialised in the name of relativism: our soul.
Fixed false beliefs are embraced in the quest for enlightenment, despite the lunacy of such an approach. Analysis of the snowflake may be captivating; but fluctuations of environmental equilibrium reduce its beauty to a tiny trickle of moisture. There is truly nothing new under the power of the Sun. So, pursue anthropological evolution and astrally project into mystical horizons at your almighty will. But I appeal to the universe: bring back the medieval celebrations of lunar amazement. However, let us not forget that the trials of Salem are a perpetuating characteristic of our triumphant modernity. I want to take you Home.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
You can't be fooled by the beauty
of a sweet-heart who is seventeen,
you can look away but repression,
leads to a close mind of no serenity,
It doesn't hurt to appreciate the art,
just don't break the merchandise,
There's no denying her sin-less skin,
as of her eyes that are of gentle-ness,
and her hair that glows wildly in the sun
she turns the heads of almost all gentlemen
She's gorgeous and her developed youth-full-ness,
is a god-send, to admire beauty so truly blessed.
Jun 3, 2025
Jun 3, 2025 at 5:05 PM UTC
A castaway in the island of failed loves, my heart
moved in jungle pathways, lived alone in caves,
I sold it to a courtesan who courted it steadfast
never had I felt such an ease in my days dark.
Love is a clandestine merchandise in market places
by lovers, men and women of charm and magic
mixing power and allure, when the price is just right.
The street of our evenings was full of laughter,
my love life there saw many sunny seasons.
We walked hand in hand and my sweetheart was eager
to please me as my heart was full of love's languor
the meaning of love was still obscure for me and her,
though we thought it was nothing but love, that
kept throbbing in our every vein, it really mattered.
To the tune of Blue Danube, we would wildly waltz,
the sad thought it brought, made me weep inside.
if the world is so wicked let's die together,
and I see her dance away totally inebriated
footsteps sounded near, we lost true interest
pain was chasing us, all the way from behind,
we were disillusioned, love slowly got drifted
gently dissipated breaking our hearts.
As I cross the corner of the street alone,
with my heart bleeding, often the girl for the day in tow,
I feel the pang of a heart, seeking my love waiting
the courtesan who kept watching me, her glassy eyes moist,
all these days of wandering, eventually our eyes met.
I sold my heart to the lonely courtesan, she wept, received it.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
Dia de Muertos in a Parking Lot
23 July 2017
The big trucks roll along the interstates
And bear in their wombs the American soul:
Made-in-China shoes, ‘phones, dolls, cartoon tees
Scented soaps, baseball bats, and hipster hats
And the dead. Disposable merchandise
In the commerce of nations, the subjects
Of learned discourse and bigoted rant
Everyone in America wants to be famous
Coyotes dispose of their human cargo
And
How easy for us to say we didn’t know
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 1:55 PM UTC
when you look into my eyes,
do you see her?
do you see the girl you fell in love with?
Or do you see a broken silhouette where she once was?
you could have made her stay you know.
you could have made her feel alive and wanted.
you could have made her love every inch of herself,
every fiber of her being you claimed to love in the beginning.
what changed that for you?
was it when you found out she was different?
found out she had scars deeper than the grand canyons valleys.
found out she was used merchandise.
found out, that no matter how hard you tried you couldnt erase the memories.
skin inked with distrust and abuse.
no empty canvas was left for your saving fingerprints.
no room to spill kindness and love,
no room for change.
so you, just like everyone else shes ever known,
left her.
you packed your bags and got out while you could.
if you only knew the envy she felt towards you.
You see, you could pick up everything and leave.
while her baggage comes with a lifetime guarantee,
weighed down by skeletons in her closet.
she can not escape.
You left her.
broken, vulnerable, and dying.
So when you looked at her you saw it didn't you?
saw what makes everyone leave eventually...
you saw her
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 11:52 PM UTC
There was a time in Europe long ago
When no man died for freedom anywhere,
But England’s lion leaping from its lair
Laid hands on the oppressor! it was so
While England could a great Republic show.
Witness the men of Piedmont, chiefest care
Of Cromwell, when with impotent despair
The Pontiff in his painted portico
Trembled before our stern ambassadors.
How comes it then that from such high estate
We have thus fallen, save that Luxury
With barren merchandise piles up the gate
Where noble thoughts and deeds should enter by:
Else might we still be Milton’s heritors.
1.4k
The price of the merchandise just went up
I am frustrated and surely fed up
Long lines just to buy a simple gift
My mind keeps thinking on if
Got my credit card statement to see
All I can say is wow we
What in the world did I charge?
I believe I did payback Marv
Yet my blood pressure just went up
I am thirty I must drink some water in a cup
I must pay off this certain bill
I am determined and will
Merry Christmas cheer just became a woe
However no sense in complaining as I must go with the flow
Christmas is like a show
You just don’t never know
I feel I am having a boxing match with Santa
But the department stores are requesting that I enter
Merry Christmas to all
Just watch your credit card bill’s and the prices that don’t fall
As they only stand tall.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
In Atlanta Victoria is red faced, her secret a secret no more.
A shoplifter made off with her ******* merchandise worth an eye catching score.
How one shopper could nab all those garments- it simply beggars belief!
Her “Angels” will now go “commando” Unless someone fingers the thief.
The crook was observed on surveillance with stuffed shopping bags leaving the store.
She didn’t get Victoria’s miracle bras so police think she’ll come back for more.
This sort of heist has happened before, although, thankfully, it is still rare.
The shoplifter may be a black woman, but its certain that she has a pair.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
the city's moon
fixated in its peoples tics and behaviour
crass and mentally fractured
traction acts
the loony satellite makes sway for rude construction
padding our ego psychology
nothing simple allowed
we are all a manic reference of each other
the city weather is steered
by currents of gossip
withhold your info
culture clutches
misguiding alliances
treasure your details
it is your only insurance
this city
it's a view to thrill
but it odors me til ill
****** privacy and get undressed
too much time here harbouring thirst
quibbling hurt feelings
signals ; Life Emitting Distress
so
lock up the night city stars
mar-glaring bulbs of pity-me
staring about for vagrancy
i flip up my hood
lucent pandery eyes span the communal routes
search us out merchandise and mood
i turn down an alleyway
and am confronted
a vain and voyeuristic fan tail
varieties cocktail of sales and entertainment
ad lights send out sonar 'pings'
wing-ed ; fencing judgement
i wear pricy contacts to veil my retinas
and my hood is lined with aluminium
i cough and concentrate on breath
commemorate each step undertaken
weaponize my walk
eyes low
my being is voided into guise
heading further from the city centre
i can straighten from my defensive pose
in amongst the dwellings
the urban effect dwindles
kindled instead by the dosey soup wash of streetlights
delights; the holy crop of them
webbing outward retching past our boundaries
shored back upon natures breath
(so i imagine)
Nov 8, 2022
Nov 8, 2022 at 9:03 PM UTC
You stopped outside
this shop window
on the New Kent Road
and peered in
there were lots
of merchandise
with labels saying
To Clear on them
and you saw
this stamp album
with a packet
of stamps attached
for 1/6d
so you went in
and asked the old guy
behind the counter
for the stamp album
and stamps
and he reached in
the window
and took it out
and you gave him
the 1/6d
and he handed you
the album
and he said
ain't you the kid
who came in here
last week
and bought
the cap gun and holster?
yes I am
you said
why?
you must have
diverse tastes kid
he said
guess so
you said
and walked out
into the street
where Helen
was waiting for you
what did you buy?
she asked
a stamp album
and stamps
you replied
you showed her
what you'd bought
you don't look like
the kind of kid
who'd buy
a stamp album
or who
collected stamps
she said
what's a kid
who collects stamps
look like?
you asked
she looked at you
her head
slightly
to one side
I don't know
someone with glasses
with black plastered
down hair
with a posh voice
she said
you gazed at her
standing there
in her red
and yellow
flowered dress
and brown hair
in tied bunches
and her thick
lens glasses
you wear glasses
you said
you don't
collect stamps
but I'm not a boy
she said
only boys collect stamps
you shook your head
and smiled
anyway lets go
to my house
and drop theses off
and go to the park
and have fun
you said
ok
she said
and you walked with her
to your home
you with your stamp album
and stamps
and she with her
battered doll Betty
in her right hand
swinging it along
and you humming
some Roy Rogers
cowboy song.
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 2:42 AM UTC