Throughout a program playing so
Or the streaming of a show,
Commercials advertise the new...
Broadcasting to me and you.
Only seconds long, they toss
Their message out to get across.
Straightforward - sometimes with humour
To appeal to the consumer.
Marketed products for sale...
New lines of recent retail.
Variations of a flavour
Or something similar to savour.
Through jingles and spoken word...
Business making itself heard.
Near future events of outing
Made aware of - without shouting.
Samples of what can be seen
Coming soon to the big screen.
What television has in store
On channels, services and more.
Commercials may often employ
A sense of delay and annoy.
Still, their purpose is promotion...
It is our choice to make notion.
In streets adorned with neon lights,
We're sold a dream of grand delights,
But beware, for what glitters gold,
May only serve to leave us cold.
The market's claws can gouge and bite,
While we succumb to its great might,
We trade our souls for cheap applause,
And become slaves to want and flaws.
Amidst the aisles and billboards bright,
Our hearts and minds are taking flight,
Toward a place of empty gain,
And we forget to feel the pain.
The urge to buy is hard to fight,
It grips us with its endless might,
And so we spend our precious time,
Chasing wealth that leaves us blind.
In streets adorned with neon lights,
The dangers of commercial sights,
Are clear for all to see and know,
As we watch our true selves go.
We must break free from greed's tight hold,
And learn to cherish what we're told,
For true contentment can't be sold,
Nor can our worth be bought or sold,
In streets adorned.
Well within the city limits mysteries
Suburban people to the core escape
Into a wilderness of houses bunched together
Outside town, outside the reaches of police
In giant vehicles much bigger
Much larger than ordinary cars
Good citizens leave congested streets
For the homogenization of milk and mind
Between the city and the farm is space
More peace, less crime generated
Suited for new life to grow
Suburban is the only language spoken
Within the boundaries of God
A new born bunny moves about
Inside a tiny cardboard box it dwells
Inside a new construction site discovered
If not it must be a house, like so many others
Baby bunny must be a gift from mom and dad
Christmas starts in November this time of year
If we pray real hard under the covers
With due diligence as children do
Perhaps Christmas will come in June
A new born baby brother would be nice
But an SUV will do and will suffice
Habits are difficult to break…
and when lethal it is as if trying
to scale a fence with barbs at the top.
Smoking, drug addiction,
bad relationships
attach to one’s spirit like flypaper
or gooey-spider-webs, entrapping
the soul, gumming-up divine essence
making it difficult for God to be heard
above the interference, and for us
to discern the clear, clean direction
of Mother Nature.
We are not only what we are born with,
but also what we see, open our ears to
and what we ingest--
Stop being manipulated! Turn off
conditioning echoes--the TVs,
radios and computer magnets
that are playing havoc with our moral
compasses, both physical and mental--
Don’t let commercialism be the
death of Free-thinking in Humanity!
There's something about pollution
that makes you think you belong
Perhaps it's nature's fart
Or maybe other's told you
bare sick winds for their art
There's something about a sick wind
that makes you want to fart
Perhaps it's nature's randy
Or perhaps; for making blart
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