Advertisements Poems | Examples

Saladin's Head

Under the solar system
in our basement I sat,
copying schematics of
superheterodyne radios
from a book on electronics,
while my dad, across from me,
stood at his drawing board 
illustrating advertisements
for feed and farm equipment.

The floor was painted blood red,
the walls bandage white—
a battlefield made tidy.
The dehumidifier murmured its hymn
beneath Saladin’s ceramic gaze,
his turbaned brow inscrutable
as my father bent to sketch
a combine in perfect perspective.

And why Saladin’s head?
What did it mean to my dad,
this sultan of Egypt and Syria?
Did he admire the general
for how he fought with honor
or just like the look of him—
that calm authority, 
that stylized beard?
Was it a joke I never got,
or a reminder
of some private war?

Saladin’s head— 
commanding,
noble, 
a little creepy—
still hangs
somewhere in my mind,
a relic or a riddle,
watching as I trace new lines
through circuits of memory,
searching for my father’s face.

mother cereal box

I have to constantly outguess, outrun and outfox
Because I am their mother said my crunchy cereal box
This mystified me; I was blank, wordless at best
I read her advertisements again, thinking this was a test.

In a world where shadows stretch across asphalt streets

In a world where shadows stretch across asphalt streets,
the modern man searches for his soul among dazzling advertisements,
alienated, stripped of ancestral creativity,
transformed from a creator into a silent consumer,
his smile, a mask on a billboard,
bearing the pride of a scentless existence,
in a world where presence becomes absence,
and essence is lost among useless objects,
our souls are just echoes in empty boxes,
and in every perfect smile hides a silence,
a silent cry for meaning, for a rebirth,
but we are trapped in mazes of shiny packaging,
where time is measured in products and not in moments,
and we, prisoners of a prefabricated dream,
lose ourselves in reflections of a distorted reality,
seeking to find, in this deafening silence,
the answer to the question we've forgotten to ask,
in a universe where authenticity is a luxury,
and truth, just a distant dream we chase,
while we dance on the edge of a collective oblivion.

Advertisers Know Us

we are impressionable at a young age, each male and miss
tv advertisements and magazine advertisers know this
they show us what to dream of, things we want to buy
experiment with our minds, so we have to do or die

I personally like chocolate candy the best of all the sweets
but after seeing this lifesaver ad, I feel without them I’m not complete
so I run to the store, and buy them and of course they are a delight
tv will probably decide what else I will dream about this October night

Lost Art

Lost Art

There was a time
when we waited eagerly
for the mailman -
when mail deliveries 
had actual mail in them
 
There were real 
hand-written letters 
from parents,
cousins, children, friends,
maybe a lover,
perhaps birthday cards 
or get-well wishes
or postcards from far off.
Now we have e-mail
instant gratification –
no waiting for days
Jot off a note with 
a click and it’s there

No more long pages of
small talk about family, 
friends, the neighborhood,
or a new recipe,
things that make
letters enjoyable.
Now mailboxes overflow
with advertisements 
unwanted catalogues 
political cards full of 
slander of opponents
and dubious information

Most of all, requests
for money, accompanied by
unwanted and unneeded
tote bags, return labels, 
t-shirts and greeting cards -
all paid for with money
supposedly sent
to provide help
for some needy cause
Trees sacrificed for what?
junk mail, trashed as soon
as it’s out of the mailbox!
What of all the history
gleaned from letters 
over the years?

Most e-mails are deleted.
Whatever could be learned 
from them is gone.

The written letter 
has become a lost art.

Movin' On Up

I once wrote Op-Eds for a regional daily paper
Until the new publisher thought me too liberal
He preferred to publish a sensational caper
Than alternative views, well-expressed, literal,
God forbid the public be encouraged to think
Or have the opportunity to read opposing views,
Which is primarily why many local papers stink
Filled, as they are, with advertisements and old news!
After a stint of eight years writing to a deadline,
Producing prodigious amounts of sound opinion
Although I have writing outlets and I feel fine,
The publisher has moved up to a lower dominion.

Written October 1, 2022

Commercials Push My Prayers Away

I.
Many thoughts were deemed invalid now
(My heart says, when posts disappear here,
And I see advertisements where my words were typed!)
My prayers ought to be "secret," we read in Matthew
But we are urged to pray together, per Hebrews
Once more: Scripture says "balance," not either-or, neither-nor
So I pray with Cameron, who has a court date ...

II.
LORD Jesus, I stop at times, to meditate
Just for a minute: see thy face, THANK you, gratitude!
At various hours all day, not 9-5, as once taught
Jesus, help me be faithful for thy Grace
I cannot give You my all, songs brag of that, yes ...
I ask Holy Trinity to help me be better each day for Thee
Whether or not I teach thy Gospel: prayer and growth
Has to be personal (more than private) - help us all

Amen, and shalom shalom

My Old Car Is Fine

Automobiles these days are super expensive
And, I find car advertisements rather offensive,
Suggesting my old auto may soon be trash,
They are promising to buy it for loads of cash.

I’m not in a race to keep up with the Joneses
Considering what the interest rate on car loans is,
I’ll keep my jalopy as long as it gets me where,
If sometimes I’m returning on a wing and a prayer. 

Written July 9, 2022

Cicada

I'm one of these billions out there
hallucinating wanting to be happy
we can't get away from it
the sun pulls us out of bed to fight
until the moon knocks us down to dream again
with the success of the crop
daughter's wedding
the new job at work
vacation
a happiness carved by TV
my dog looks at me disconsolately
he knows I don't smile anymore
yesterday a new flu hit me
now on my cell phone
drug advertisements pop up
things seem unreachable
prostrated on the couch
I hear the cicada that lives in the tree next door
she is happy singing all the time
this is an evil thought
but I'm absolutely sure
that if you put a bigger brain in her head
she would be depressed like us.

Lottery

hard to understand how we got here
the kitchen clock full of gooey moments
warning us to build now what we have not yet lived
but it's sad because all it took was one key
a damn password or any abracadabra
thing to decipher those riddles
that prevent us from growing
something to get us out of these picturesque circumstances
lost between culinary recipes 
miracle remedies and endless advertisements
if in the morning we could see in the mirror 
less disappointment
if we got out of bed with some discipline
and if a car finally passed on the street
all colorful playing that happy song
and invited you:
Marco, come here 
you won
take it look how cool 
your first million!!!

Challenge

hard to understand how we got here
the kitchen clock full of greasy moments
warning to build now
everything we haven't lived yet
it's sad because all it took was one key
a damn magic password or any abracadabra
able to decipher the riddles
that prevent us from growing
and to get us out of these circumstances
lost among weird cooking recipes
miracle remedies and endless advertisements
if in the morning we could see in the mirror
less disappointment on our face...
if we got out of bed with some discipline
defying the instability of which we are full.

Tinder

I wanted to suppress individuality
for the communion of our lives
but the devil lives in a mismatch
in disenchantment
like when i lose you in my busy heart
I took that bath like in the advertisements
best perfume I had
i looked happy in that monday
the car key in the right hand
when you arrived almost funeral
arms hanging aimlessly
then i remembered everything
that could wait happy for me in the city
other streets 
beautiful houses 
oaks in spring
special smiles
then I decided it's not you i want cling

Rise Or Fall

heaven or hell
advertisements say ~
all's well


03 January 2022

A New City

Highways and overhead bridges
Stretched like arteries and veins
From the heart of the city
Branching off to near and far
Like that of a gigantic octopus
Apartments, condours, administration centres, shopping malls and business centres
Rising up like the many organs of a body
Advertisements, neon lights, lights
Scattered like stars of the universe 
Gigantic projects and high towers hovering over
Diminish the prestige of man
Pushing aside the pride of nature
Congesting heavy traffic 
Exert man for patience and tolerance 
To build a new city over the old one 
Is not that simple after all
Too much for a mould 
Will finally cause it suffocated

Official Disclaimer

BADSEEDPRESS is a fabricated enterprise. 
Zoltan Goliath and Otis Trench are invented characters, 
as are all the other players identified herein as having 
had a role in the sweet soul seduction of this sad luck, 
rum-soaked dame of a book. 
The entire contents of this volume is the product 
of the imagination of M. Kalavik. It was all his idea. 
BADSEEDPRESS accepts no responsibility 
for anything other than words on a page, 
but we would like to thank the many sponsors 
whose advertisements have acted as fertilizer 
spread among the lyrical furrows of this fictional funny farm. 
Without their support, this project might not have been thought possible. 
We’re all just in it for the money.     

Brent Scorn
Non-attorney Spokesperson
BADSEEDPRESS

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