I filed a thirty page legal bill of complaint
about some things that aren't right. They certainly ain't.
I bought dehydrated water for a buck thirty-five -
how could a gentleman think to contrive
to sell me this product...without any instruction
(resulting in my home's near total destruction).
When I used too much water, it created a flood.
It flowed out of my house and turned into mud!
Blue ribbon excellence she said with glee
Judging a cherry pie made just for me
Crust as sweet and flaky as it should be
I love the baked goods of my cousin Vee
The Home Goods store is packed with stuff
That no one really needs.
It’s kind of like a garden filled
With bright and cheerful weeds.
You stroll the aisles and start to pluck
Some items from a shelf,
Each one designed to make you buy
A present for yourself.
A fish-shaped plate, a speckled bowl,
Some baskets of bamboo,
Plus pillows, frames and placemats -
All just waiting there for you.
A separate section carries food,
Like chocolates and snacks,
While cards and wrapping paper fill,
With toys, adjoining racks.
Some furniture is worth a look -
A cabinet or chair,
But better snatch it up because
Next week it won’t be there.
It’s fun to spend an hour
In this store, without a doubt,
Though guaranteed you’ll leave with things
You sure could do without.
Paper Goods
Miracle Man
10/7/2024
Each week at the store,
When the pandemic was here.
We always bought more.
There they stood,
naked and heartbroken,
beyond words, beyond expression.
Still, frozen in time,
beyond their prime,
lost in silence, thunderstruck.
To the core.
Obviously, utterly,
bitterly beyond heartbroken.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Education is a fertile ground
Where young minds are nursed
Nurtured, and strengthened to withstand
The rains of time and bear fruits.
Education is a kitchen
Where wisdom is cooked
With the right ingredients
To nourish young minds.
Imagine having to know your height
Or the length of your sight—
Now imagine a ship on the ocean
What gives it all that commotion?
Education is the food we need
For the growth and strength of our imagination.
It's the seasoning for the words we whisper
The light for the looming gloom, and the engine for our motion.
The Home Goods store sells things you need
And many things you don’t.
Some people buy both types of things,
But others simply won’t.
Their Halloween collection
Is immense and so much fun,
With items meant to bring a smile
To almost everyone.
The pumpkin orange bowls and mugs,
The ghosts and bats and brooms
And witches on the pillows
And stuffed toys for all your rooms.
The towels, sheets and candlesticks,
The platters, streamers, flags,
The placemats on display right near
The trick-or-treating bags.
I know folks like to decorate,
But still I find it *****
To spend so much on things you’ll use
Just one month every year.
When might they be swarming the market
Eardrums deafening with pure racket:
The at-all-times mad desire
That makes importer a messiah:
Shipping bent on vomiting the goods
Over which the dying user broods…
A consumer’s quest for the newness
One’s government checks with a shrewdness,
Never ceasing to the Brisk Things tax,
A big loss should she choose to be lax…
Soon, Importer: Stinking Billionaire,
For this no research questionnaire:
“The checks know they should spare The Foreign
And just let the Enriching Thing reign.”
Do imports an economy kill?
You forgive them: citizens they thrill;
Their belief they’re in Europe fulfill
And variation stop from standing still…
Or else quadruple your exports,
Never compromised in their transports;
The other way of ploughing seaports
And a shake-up giving to Airports…
Your importations make China smile!
She sees you going that kind mile;
For Nigeria keeping a friend’s file.
But watch it: you stop venom-rich bile…
Don’t stop asking for electronics:
Your fun-loving kid’s animatronics.
I shall have you richly prepared
For the notorious life of card:
Have you grasp another life hard,
By far tougher than that of bard;
What one does, all the time on guard;
For steady losses: A Retard.
You’ll figure why saints want it barred
Or with a pen for the same starred...
The music one craves for: Hard rock
But while it plays obeying clock.
Timely entry of phoned cops block;
At the closest road mounted block!
You could do with a screening smock;
Black spectacles for eyes that mock.
Your victors plans to slaughter cock
Not where rivals could their guns cock…
Don’t rule out a “Stand in the dock”
And cash there-from don’t goods stock…
What you picked up at the junction
Will end up serving no function,
Mine; The Bold Voice of Lord God’s seer,
Though the message might stab like spear…
Tears for the buyer of fake good,
Who’d seen it and forgot to brood;
Our markets they infiltrate,
More items we adulterate
The products whose cost is dear:
Because they spellbind, no fear!
But not for who questions ask,
Sellers taking to a task
For fake goods we keep longing
And bought: a sense of belonging,
As it radiates fine texture…
Why need I instinct’s lecture?
With Christmas done and dusted now that we’re in January
I’m feeling rather portly cos I ate, drank and got merry
With twenty pounds upon my waist and ten pounds on my legs
The last thing that I need is shops crammed full of Easter eggs
The scent of linen,
Slacks, creams, leather. Mellow tunes.
Soft muted bustle.
We move promptly to our quest.
In the purse, Mom’s hard won cash.
~
The shoe department...
Always with my size and style.
The well-groomed salesman,
His warm charm sooths my unease
At the cold chrome size device.
~
Brylcreem, tweed, Old Spice.
Soft caring hands hold my feet.
New shoes. Perfect fit.
And now, such memories past
Bring warm solace to my years.
* Reworked version submitted in tanka format.
Goods needs Vehicle,whers as good things need life of a man.society needs cooperation,whereas patient needs operation.byg.anuthangavel.
Economic curve
Sliding down
Mushroom-like umbrellas
Springing up
Somewhat blocking the street
Drawing crowds
To buy the cheapest
Goods and wares
Without license or tax
The dust sifts and falls with the Rosebloom powder
To sieve and assume, survival hast made him prouder
All alone like a wolf that's lost
Roaming and trotting, breath crystallising a soft cloud
No Mum, dad or Cubs that's the cost
Apocalyptic fields lead him under and over dusty arches
Sent upon his penultimate marches
A two way transceiver, voice from the heavens
Job 27 the last job in the bloomfields
Hookers lips and dancing girls sad eyes of repression
What a spectacle @ the rosebloom flats, startling frequencies
Warping screams of a girl incorporating ballet
Into a escape attempt from the jigging flames
Welcome to the rosebloom flats hysteria in the air
A hundred infinite Windows expressing her adversity
They all perish not forgotten, you've forgotten that they point
Apocalypse and lonely wolves and an impossible mercy
Off you go on your final walk
The walk towards your delusions
Dreams and nightmares don't mix at least with sandy roses
Related Poems