Best Supermarkets Poems
No flame within!
do I hold for you
no delightful delicacy
shall I put to rhyme.
No picturesque words
in italics of your
woeful wildlife, no
acknowledgement of
the ancient mariner, he
that crossed the margin
of our “Atlas of the world.”
(Still in use, [I believe] in the
old stone museum.)
One can easily live in fear
of your many mordant moods,
to see you capture the
embracing horizon, where warring
clouds fondle the sunlight,
and the departing QE 2 is
reduced to microcosm.
How can one live in awe of
you, when at the end of each
day you snatch at the light of
sustenance, therefore
giving license to the veil
of damnation, soon to be cast
out of the east, driving impending
fears to languish upon the
unholy waters of the Styx?
(An extraction of the mind,
an evaporation of the memory
the spray dried brain
tossed into oblivion.)
Yet each morning an
interval to one’s ongoing
nightmare, when with renewed
levitation, the new light reprieved!
Begins avidly it’s universal
journey across Manukau’s
“Pack ‘n’ Save” Car park.
Oh yes! It is so easy to hate you;
you that brought the rest of
the world here, you that constitutes
a world within a world, that,
where the cycle of life creates it’s
own constitution, each player
judged on cue, to become an act of
fodder, mobile supermarkets
in ferocious competition with
nothing at all to give.
“Unless death itself is a gift!”
Upon the surface your
treachery still lingers, there,
tenacious tentacles lurk
within the sedulous surf,
groping blindly at sedated
rocks, those pinnacles of sanctuary
that harbour the weary,
support the rod.
Only when gravitation truly
intervenes, does the perpetual
invasion subside, leaving one in
no doubt about your promiscuity!
© Harry J Horsman 1993
Feeling the desolation, of smothering air
Hemmed in by crowds; the obliqueness of fear
Throng of the city and no sight of the sun
Incessant noise and the desire to just run.
And I drive.
Arterial routes clogged by metal and wheels
Schizophrenic drivers living others ideals
Neon and lights sizzling the sides of the streets
Marketing signage, greed’s consumer receipts.
And I drive.
White picket fences, roses, and manicured lawns
Ridiculous box housing, erected for ludicrous pawns
Playgrounds, big supermarkets, cafes and parks
Sprawling suburbia with its pools built by sharks.
And I drive
Warehouses dispensing the needs of the hordes
Industrious factories like cash castles of lords.
Sawmills busily feeding more desecration of land
Refuse collection sites completely sterile and bland.
And I drive.
Ten-acre barons on frivolous bundles of dirt
Escaping urbanity in the unproductive outskirts.
Postage stamp fields supporting ponies and kids
While toffee nose parents sit in ultra posh digs.
And I drive
Paddocks of cattle dispersed through productive farmland
Shiny new tractors with men toughened and tanned
Marshmallow hay bales pimple the face of the ground
Irrigators urinate on earth until drowned.
And I drive.
Magnificent mountains covered in beckoning trees
Clear running streams and whispering breeze
Wild flowers gently waving as robins flit all around
Radiant true colours and smoothing calm sounds.
And yes I am home.
>I do love food.
When I was young, food was rationed.
So much of this, or that, you were allowed.
Each person had a ration book for adults and a child.
So much butter so much sugar, a few ounces of meat.
If you grew your own produce, fresh veg was a treat.
And what was put on the table, you did love to eat.
Many years have passed, and food is not rationed anymore.
The choice on the supermarket shelf, tells there is no sign of war.
Now we are leaving the EU, what will the supermarkets do?
Will the shelves be empty and bare?
Or will more British produce be for sale there.
I do love food, so hope it’s there.
British, nice with a price that’s fair.<
Fists flying people crying
On this crazy day black Friday
What a disgrace as the hunter’s race
Christmas bargains with a punch in the face
Dozens of brawls and 999 calls
From stores all around the country
These midnight sales just turned into hell
Behaving like wild animals that were hungry
Shopping madness hit the towns
Customers fighting like savaged clowns
Ripped stuff down from the shelves stacked high
And within minutes the TV’s and gadgets went dry
Reports came in from everywhere
This place is a battlefield they don’t care
Shocking behaviour and violence broke out
Some were screaming whilst others would shout
It was deadly like a war picture scene
People grabbing and pushing for just anything
They were having a tug of war over electrical goods
Rivals punching black and blue to snatch for their hoods
Supermarkets were forced to close their doors
When the crowds rushed in they forgot civil laws
It was a shameful site and the customers weren’t polite
Those black Friday shoppers they did fuss and they did fight
© Copyright by KC.Leake
29th November 2014
All Rights Reserved
Negligible morsel of biomass
my fat belly, formerly abs
insignificant yet it occupies me
hourly while bored or hungry.
Fat is what? a picture
of despair, giving up caring
or man out of balance, other
side of the world's starving
mass, case of the soul's malnutrition
industrial agriculture, television
supermarkets, vacations, hydrocarbons
and the grid. Electricity, urban
traffic jams, photons at final
rest. Sugars synthesized, abundant
plastics to carry them home in.
Into your house and into your mirror.
Memorizing the periodic table
and learning the calculus makes one
no thinner. Walking the mountain
in heat and cold and rain, alone
or in fire crews should inhibit.
And a healthy fear of death. A laugh
a day at sex and pain and fate
which renews the biomass I hate.
Do you know why us guys have happy faces
Beer is for sale in supermarkets, good gracious
Here in Ontario
A bit backward I know
Even grandmas can get blotto and walk around aimless
It is night yet in the West
and the planes land between listlessly burning tarmac lamps
stealthy fingers scurrying through diadems of neons halogens and amber
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!
The cowherds’ bare blistered feet already trample yesterday’s dust into mud
and cartwheels strain in crusted fissures where rains fell only once or twice
while dreams fester in cosy centrally-heated silken beds in luxury flats
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!
Tomorrow is yesteryear’s planned strikes
buses trains taxis office machines lie soundlessly asleep
and will not wake until the battle over psychic comfort comes to an end
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!
For You there is no respite no pause
no tea-breaks with cheese biscuits or croissants
there’s only the last container to crane over the dock in unpaid overtime
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!
Your eyes will hurt in the twilight’s hazy glimmer
no time to brush your teeth nor shave in hot and cold running water
nor the right to flush a toilet nor heedlessly course through in cosy tubes to work
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!
The sirens rave through boulevards in broad night-light
rushing hypertensic cardiac cases from their delight-full beds
cholestrol and diabetic cane sugar within reach of every child in supermarkets
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!
Let those who succeeded their former masters
sip their sweet sweatless porto before the hors-d’oeuvres
and flap their tabliers hiding their secret shame under cabalistic arms
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!
Wake! there’s little time left for your own bickering differences to fester
the dawn signals the tasks that lie ahead unfinished
and the carrion hunters trained in their old master’s image club together
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!
(Continued in Part One - 2)
Three stars to the dream pierce
and I find you sitting there,
forlorn
absorbed
and lost in sickle thoughts
I rush to metal supermarkets
and bring you gifts of spirit,
paper roses
lead balloons
and melted ice in buckets
You laugh like rivers bubbling
over stones and odd appendages,
snapping,
pulling
yourself right out of silver dreams
I hold your hand in transit
from three stars to nowhere really
alone
with you
as we're half way now to sleep...
Past the bodegas
the House of Sages
Past the children playing
in the yard
Past the drugstore
chains
Past the basketball
hoops - - which remind
me
of a class at Brooklyn College
Past the ice cream trucks
and the kosher bakery
Past the supermarkets
Hearing people
discuss old politics
I head to my home
The Lower East Side
seeing my friends, avoiding my enemies
Looking for peace - as night falls
on Losaida - my home on the Lower East Side
This is Uganda
My motherland
My home that I love so much
Boom, boom, boom,boom
Another prominent leader has been shot dead
Who is it?
Abiriga, the yellow man
Panic here, panic there
Some arrests here and there
And that’s it
He is gone
And the killers too are nowhere to be seen
This is Uganda
Around that time, it’s party here and party there
Many of my brothers and sisters have come to the beginning of the end of their time in school and some totally done
The graduation has brought well-wishers, relatives, friends and family from different places
Happiness is all in the air
But for many, the excitement ends there
Because months and years after that, they are still hoping to find their first job and the hopes seem to be withering down and getting further like the sun setting at dusk
Some have chosen paths totally different from what they studied for
The professional doctor is now a trader
The one that studied engineering is now a farmer
This is Uganda
The neighbor’s dogs are feasting on meat, chicken bones or even the chicken itself and maybe some serious Dog food sold in supermarkets but they slept on empty stomachs the previous night,
The mother is the main breadwinner for the husband abandoned them
There is very thin hope for a meal the next day
Maybe a Good Samaritan will do a miracle
But it certainly is not going to be their most immediate neighbor
While kids from well-to-do families are picked from the gates of their parents’ homes to go to school and brought back later in the evening,
Somewhere in the same age range or slightly older has also woken up to start his/her day
With his/her old & dirty sack on the back, held by the neck, he traverses the whole village throughout the day in search for scrap metal, plastics and some metallic cans that he/she hopes to sell off and find a little something to buy some food and also enjoy some ‘luxuries’ like maybe buying a secondhand T-shirt/Dress
Imagine that!
This is Uganda
We pay for justice
Some pay to deny other justice
And that’s the way it is
A police officer will ask you for a bribe openly with no shame
And that’s the order of the day
Disguised as a small token for ‘Ka-soda’ or ‘Ka-lunch’
This is Uganda
An Economy spirals up in euphoria,
enslaving Casinos, Supermarkets, Malls.
Lavish and happy hedonists in quicksand,
relish in desert of drudgery, not so small.
As we dance, an orgy and frenzy of 'Plenty',
Mother Earth looks fragile.
Thousand channels on TV....
Commercial 'Breaks' bonding ornate families.
Fizzy drinks decor, fountains in creams of ice.
Chocolates, cheese and clothes in arid paradise.
Bourgeois entities consume branded merchandise.
As cars update to limousines, jets and fancy yachts,
Mother Earth looks fragile.
Crass delightful spending, offers on Credit Cards.
Useless junkies clutter, unrelenting greed so garish.
The rush to get" Freebies".. suffocates a " Freedom"..
Like morons, we take care, of our precious kingdom
As an empire shops in frenzy, like a thirsty Vampire,
Mother Earth looks fragile.
Addicted thoughts doomed to oblivion.
Smartphones, iPod and Game Consoles.
Claustrophobic painted homes, nauseate in stress.
Have we forgotten to learn to live with "less"..?
Forgotten carefree butterflies...wilderness of peace
Forgotten molten glaciers,... wild streams and breeze,
Opulence of a Billionaire Earth...
Let life go on, billion years of mirth.
Anybody listening???"
Stuck in the mire of more and more
Look, he goes there.....
.Another Ferari riding Billionaire...
20th December, 2018
Written originally for Minimalism Poetry Contest of Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
https://m.soundcloud.com/user-921599710/fruit-a-peel-2
Blueberries, bananas, apples that fall
Berries and pears, we love them all
Fresh rainwater, summer heat
The part of plants that we can eat
Inside the fruit, contains the seeds
Found on bushes, grown on trees
Tomato plants, of heights will rise
With soil and compost, fertilise
Seeds we scatter, seeds we sow
All around the world they grow
Celebrate at food events
Cities, countries, continents
Supermarkets, stalls be manned
Frozen, dried, fresh or canned
Varied fruits ripen with time
Fresh fruit salad, shall we dine
A complement of any meal
Fruits to blend and fruits to peel
Expectations to surpass
Blended poured into a glass
Garden fruit and fruit in tins
Daily fibre, vitamins
Large vineyards, where growers take
From tiny buds, to blossomed grape
Strawberry smoothie, raspberry jam
Tomato sandwich, cheese and ham
Assembled fruit upon the plate
Master-chef provide your rate
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Adjusting Appetizing Palates.
I have sampled the variety,
I am the one who has tasted life;
The one who has had a taste of life.
Rarely indulged in the main course-
Seldom a full meal-
I come hungry-
To leave satisfied...
I want more substance.
Sampled the world on wooden toothpicks.
I have had itty bits of everything.
Piecemeal offerings to try entice my loyalty.
Old ladies with new recipes passing
them around on trays in supermarkets of the world.
I come back for more free samples.
The more I have traveled the more
I have sampled life.
Moi-Moi- and peanut butter stew.
I have tasted life with different seasonings and spices -
Tried a variety of cultural dishes - Some bland, some spicy
Tried the soul food of each one's pride as
I swallowed mine.
I have never gained control of my soul.
It wandered with me sampling life on platters.
Now desirous of healing-fish soup.
I wanted more – Traveled;
Partook of more –
Tasting life's offerings from the - rich to the poor.
Drank out of Chrystal as well as tin cups.
I have eaten from Chinaware,
and drank from gourds,
I have supped on
Hors-d'oeuvre and canapes';
Inner-voices led me to hot rocks and tepees—
Sweat camps with medicinal potions.
Tasting life in places where strange
medicine men reside.
I have eaten rice in 2000 languages.
In Asian and Indian tongues.
I swapped collard greens for callaloo;
Then stepped up to taste breadfruit -
Filled up on Ackee and Saltfish a
Exotic palatable dish.
Though never full off of life –
Not gluttony statutes yet, I have done
more than get my “whistle wet"
Still, I am glad:
“Oh, how grateful to be alive”.
Able to sample the tender morsels
of appetizers so fine.
Even though I am a
Connoisseur of fine wine.
…and have enjoyed plenty
tidbits of earth’s great bounty--
In this life.
I have supped in the finest cuisines.
Treated royally as if I were a queen.
I have supped in mansions,
or sat, an ate under exotic trees;
Yet, there is nothing so satisfying-and no one abler.
As to be back in the hood, trying not to go berserk;
Waiting for a slice of Sweet Potato pie for dessert.
After getting my grub on, at Grandmas table.
( 10/24/12)
First and foremost - I am a man
And I had to gratify my needs
Then she came along and planted her seed.
Right then I knew she had to be part of my life
So I made her my wife.
But there was still something missing in my heart
And it was tearing me apart.
What was this need - this desire - that I had to fill?
I couldn’t give up, it was bugging me still.
Then it dawned on me that I would never be complete
Until I had a child playing at my feet.
I fulfilled my goal that my wife would
No longer work- and all my friends called me a jerk.
I was always taught that the man must be
The family head - and on that road I would tread.
Being in the food line since the age of eight
I did not have to contemplate
Every one has to eat ! So supermarkets and
Restaurant management I had to defeat.
I knew also that I would have to be a
“ jack of all trades” - so I watched and questioned
Others who had the skills of plumbing , carpentry
Electrical too, these were things that a home owner must do.
I had become her husband, chauffer, and her friend
And to her , my ear I’d lend.
All her appointments , I was there
And the results we would share.
Then the news came that I waited to hear
That my wife was pregnant and my child she did bear.
Now I felt whole, I felt complete
This news wiped me off my feet
I knew already That a girl would be the part
Who would capture my soul, and heart.
They say only a mother can know the
Pleasures and pains- “ but” in a fathers heart
He feels the same.
He does not feel the kicks and turns
And the morning sickness that a woman may feel
But he shares the joys that he sees on her face
As on her stomach his hand is placed.
Now my need, my desire was filled
And I rejoice to this day still.
© L . RAMS
Owl
That’s me, night owl,
Good looking, great big eyes,
Dressed in a feathered coat,
Everybody loves to look at me,
But don’t underestimate me,
I’m the hunter, the stalker,
Watch out! I’ll catch you, eat you,
No escaping from my strong clutches,
Food is easy, swooping down,
Yum, yum my evening meal,
Moonlight feasts, mammals, and insects.
Don’t have a chance with me,
I see everything and more,
Unlike you humans who have it so easy,
I’ve seen you driving cars,
Going into places called supermarkets,
Strolling around pushing trolleys,
Picking up your meat from shelves,
Modern day people!
I see you from my woodland home,
Pulling up to your houses,
Storing your food in cold places,
You didn't know! I was watching you,
Having very long vision, seeing from the darkness around,
I’m clever! I’m wise! May give you a clue,
Reminding you! I’m here,
Just two hoots that’s me! Mysterious! Wise.