Posts Tagged ‘advertising’

The Leper Shall Inherit the Sea

April 10, 2018

A perfect picture of humanity:
an oceanside swimming pool, full
the sea, empty
and if you know this scene comes from a commercial
one for a prescription skin cream
then your understanding will be as clear
as humankind’s collective hide

Advertisements

Taltz

February 15, 2018

Ask your doctor and cough up the cash
clear skin can be yours today and subsequently
fall in love
have a family
get that dog good and soapy
catch a firefly
right in the palm of your fucking hand
it’s just like that
no more unsightly spots
and the world is your pimple to pop
just spike the vein
to be a dermatological champion
you rash free mother fucker you
live the life of your wonder bread dreams
hoo-haw!

Walgreens

June 10, 2015

We all
so says the Walgreens’ ad
want to see our kids
grow up strong,
and they do this innocently
the advertisers
heartlessly, cluelessly
without thought
of the parents watching
the parents of children dead
of children maimed, disabled
withering under malnutrition
of neuromuscular disease
yes, Walgreens
how right you are
we all want to see
our kids grow up
strong
now go fuck off

The Agency

April 1, 2015

They grab me
tag my ears
command I cry, pout, sigh
sting and suck blood
give me a wild goodbye
monitored by drone
tracked by transactions
now they know
try to dodge, hide
dark back corners
slunk low
hunkered under a pitcher of beer
yellow, behind it
my face distorts
bubbles, wavers, bends
a funhouse mirrored hall
of glass of whiskey, vodka, rum
in and out of dens
beeps and blinks red and green
every move monitored, computed
calculated, crunched, predicted
dart sails into ass
drugged out, dragged off
colored by numbers
shaken, tested, stirred
returned to virginity
a natural beast
without mystery
totally sold
all the evidence, all the data
happiness is freedom from guesswork

Misdirection

April 30, 2013

Beware the way lit for you
large blinking neon arrows
wash your path in red light
directing life like traffic
guiding decisions like a Skinner box
choice was never
but that what was chosen for you
culture, religion, brand of toothpaste
put on a track
greased and maintained
word after word, hand picked
by strange hands
it’s easy and appeasing
when in the river
to go with the flow
bend like a reed in the current
not to spit into the wind
all those things you’re told
to do
not to do
to do, not to do, to do, not to do, to do
whichever route is smoothest
kicks up not as much blinding dust
to cause you to lose your way
wander astray
come to your conclusions
live your own life
not the one chosen
by parents, by community, God and country
by the enemy lighting your way

Forgetting 9/11

March 11, 2013

What is the curse
of too many choices?
The very thought of freedom
as no more than
a panoply of products.
It was after 9/11,
and you know what that was,
you might even be, right now,
attempting mightily to remember,
but as for me
I’m forgetting 9/11 – that day
it was an historical event
best rendered by historians
into texts, dissertations and documentaries
although to it, I was a witness
more, I endured the aftermath
the blind nationalism
obsessive patriotism
endless pontifications
wily justifications
and anti-war demonstrations.
What a wondrous show
a singular opportunity
for democracy to shine
rise above
be all it could be, but instead
we got a TV ad, and in it
a grocery trolley chugs down the supermarket lane
the wheels rolling like liberty
consumer good whipping by
all along the aisle, shelves and shelves
variety, variety… endless, fantastic
cereals and chips
Doritos, Ruffles, Lays
Cheerios, Wheaties, Trix
this, defined, is the USA
this is what they tried to kill
they thought they’d bring an end to our way of life
bring an end to the American way
to our frenzy of choice
our consumer paradise
land of plenty… of want
of rationalizations
of thrills to seek
to seek and destroy
an enemy
worthy our collective hate
an enemy
after our freedom
an enemy
after me Lucky Charms.

Fly Swatter Ballet

February 16, 2013

All these flies,
flying to Dvorak through my rooms,
through my house,
flying, fleeing a madman
with a rolled fistful of coupons.
Circulars filled with money
saving opportunities daily to my mail,
and they all end the same:
in the bin smeared with fly.
Where do they come from,
five fat flies all banging eyes,
multi-faceted, against my eastward window?
Soon as they’re beaten,
there’s another one and he’s going to get it,
and he’s got it now,
because I know fly killing.
They must take off forward.
He can’t step back
or vault into the air side-long;
a fly is forthright;
he can not lie;
he leads with his head
and I sweep into his line of vision,
50cents off at Der Weinershnitzel
and then death.
Death is a hotdog hammer in bug guts.
Blue Windex standing by
I wash gooey puddles of life from my window,
the one facing east
with the view of razor wire
and thin vacant eyes in the stucco.
Another one comes buzzing in.
He makes seven, lucky seven –
full of luck and life, but none for him.
There’s a 48 hour sale at Ralph’s
and the Super sweet Fuji Apples are a killer deal.
89 Cents a pound on the window frame,
and I shit you not,
Flyer Eight has come to call,
got smashed on Clois du Bois,
6.99 at Von’s with club card
and there was more where that came from for
#9, #9, #9,
who fell dead to the spider in the sill,
and now there is ten,
done in by half priced Easter baskets at Party City
and yards of carpet for eleven and,
the time is coming,
coming for a dozen,
and 12 Tecates for 10.99 clean his clock,
and for me the killing is done,
but I’m reminded of beer at 1:53
how 12 Tecates can kill, flies and time
but one,
just one,
for the mind,
for the dead,
for the mindful dead:
flies and Dvorak alike,
12 beers, one at a time,
and I lift the tab up on the first and it goes, “tick,”
then pull it forward
like a fly in flight
and it goes, “TOCK.”

The Gospel According to a Mark

December 11, 2012

These words are written to those who know
The Law commands we do not steal, do not covet, bear false witness
but nowhere is there found a proscription against the con.

These words are written for those who know
a mark unaware is a chump, and as a chump
must never be wised up
neither should a sucker be given an even break, however
those who confess their gullibility are blessed by the Lord
for the credulous deny their credulity
the Lord forgives the innocent their ignorance,
but the easy target who is shown the bull’s eye upon his back
and closes his eyes to it is held by the Lord in contempt.

Thus it is this is written to those who know
when walking down the street, walk like this:
ears closed to the world,
hear not the carny barking,
do not listen to the hustle of the professional beggar
whose heels are deep-treaded and face scar-free,
follow well lit roadways and tarry not among whores and drunkards
unless you can’t help it,
and then speak loudly of your poverty,
and of the open sores upon your loin
inebriates and harlots will give unto you a wide berth,
close your senses off to bright flashing lights,
two for the price of one sales,
special offers requiring a year’s service commitment
for thy only heart belongs to the Lord
and may not commit to another,
in fact, speak those words unto the huckster,
and witness them tremble in the presence of such faith.

As the commercial break approaches
prepare thy thumb, place it upon thine clicker
ready to mute out
the sirens of lust, gluttony and greed
even the most steadfast and self-aware amongst eager believers
are easily taken in by sex, food and lotto.

Insecure of his genital, he will compensate
through sport’s cars, precious gems and exotic flora;
uneducated in the ways of early Homo Sapien evolution,
diet and nutrition
he will seek quick fixes in fat, sugar and salt;
stupid of statistics, he will play games of long-shot chance
placing improbable bets on near certain failures;
a wise man shuns these things
he forsakes billboards and screeching TV pitches
he will accept his small penis
find joy in vegetables, fruits and leaves
and give unto Caesar only what is Caesar’s,
and not a hundred times it due to misplaced hope,
but above all else, and the Lord cannot stress this enough
please, please, please
accept your pathetically inadequate junk
as inadequate junk
in this way may we preserve out natural resources,
end discrimination, prevent wars…
gentleman please, study basic biology
fingers, tongues and toys given by the Lord
fingers, tongues and toys
avoid the mark you place upon yourself, for fuck’s sake,
thus saith the Lord

Head Rest

October 6, 2012

I want to eat Grape Nuts, in repose,
on my front porch – the one with the wilderness view –
and smell my best at my most active
I won’t ever let “them” see me sweat… I want
the best part of waking up to be Sanka
in my cup
and not
black snot encrusted in my nose, although
it blocks the sour failure of my Glad Plug-in
air freshener… removing my senses from the city
to the country of crisp breezes
and swaying wild flowers and not
to the country of sun-baked cow shit
and diesel exhaust
in the wide fields where wheat is cultivated
and stashed in breads, pasta and breakfast cereal
we can enjoy smiling and sexy in the dawnlight
I want a bath that is a luxury of warmth and bubbles
I want to be taken away from car alarms, jackhammers
and my own unleashed terror of screaming bratty kids,
unrestrained, undisciplined
slitting one another’s throats
as I, wonderful I,
soak in splendor and leisure
thoughtless as a floating frog
blinking against a deer fly
intent to use my head
for its place of rest
because of what other use is it?

Packaged to Sell

September 6, 2012

Shaving disguises the ape, enough so
its natural concealment deceives itself.

Blind to its apeishness, it makes
lofty proclamations concerning its greatness
as a vastly superior creature, above all
others of its general kind.

The upheld razor is dominion, a calling
power through abraded skin, allowance
is made, at any cost, for homo pongo auto-amorous
to grope out pleasure from the diminishing world.

In love with its conceit
it connives complex excuses
for where its failings are most obvious.

Tremendous effort, volumes of books,
many hundreds of thousands of hours
of pontification, expounding upon virtues
deep within it knows it does not have.

In a cape and collar, the ape disguised
makes elaborate lies –
a splendid foundation of lassitude, duplicity
and pretend, which is, in the end really
all it has… make believe
well, that and an opposable thumb
used to wield the blade
whether for oppression or obfuscation, but
eventually the truth bears out
a solemn fact
a turd wrapped in foil, does not
a candy bar make.