Muzak Poems | Examples

The Halfway Glass

A city block vendor chimes pleasantries prouder
than Muzak or an unseen crow in the background 
elevating alarm clock music in the caws
uncredited and angrily growing louder.

A walkway narrows between the vendor
and a building. I teeter between both
as I pass by her grill
parked beside the vape shop. A blistering warmth

whitens piled pink hotdogs and tickles my ribcage.

A parakeet on her shoulder
is flaking off the sun and feathering the moon.

Steamy sundowns moisten her saucer eyes.
One dog pops sausage through its skin. She fans
the minty menthol. I pay the price
for squinting. I've dropped my glasses. Splitting

off-key shattered glass,
the containment of what used to be
bits of me shows up digits-bloodied.
Long after the initial sweep up,
little jagged cuts still happen.

Monkeying Around

At the fair, they’d beckon us in, tell us that we’d see a girl become a gorilla. They’d chant, “Girl, girl, girl, girlilla, gorilla…”

Monkeying Around

gorillas dressed in leopard suits, climbing
the so-called “ladder of success”

hopping onto
tiger-rings of oak

they may be gorillas
but to each other, they’re monkeys

kids in monkey suits
paid in daily rocks

white-collar players
sans elevator music

back in time
trinkets laid out on twin beds

muzak orchestra plays
as we shop

or we scrawl up a menu
making sure the sister’s choice

is the special
always a crazy conglomeration

we were never mean
we just laughed as the other

threw the pillow
and it landed on the flame

oops
you can recoup

if that happens in virtual reality
or stop the action

before a catastrophe happens
no wonder parents like

their kids
to sit still

i tried dressing in a leopard suit
but i’m too old to climb the ladder

yesteryear, i was paid in “Parcheesi”
today’s chromecast: “Say cheese”

returning to the present
i tap the gorilla on the shoulder

“Stop monkeying around,” I say,
“Throw your grandma a great big kiss.”

trendy

in a dream a record store

groovy man its lesley gore

voice mid soprano

and a piano

sleepy sandmans muzak score.

The Stores Are Alive

THE STORES ARE ALIVE

(To the tune of “The Hills Are Alive” From The Sound of Music) 

The stores are alive with the sound of Muzak;
With carols they play every Christmas time.
The stores fill my ears with the sound of Muzak;
My heart wants to sing every song sublime..

My heart beats with joy at The First Noel 
as its harmonies fill the air
My heart wants to sing as we hear sleigh bells ring
and it seems that Santa’s there.
To sing with the choir as it tells
what the Herald Angels say.
The message rings clear, that Christmas is well on its way

I go to the stores when Yuletide approaches.
I know I will hear what I’ve heard before.
My ears will be filled with the sound of Muzak
Ringing through the store

30th November 2021
To The Tune Of --- Musicals --- Part 1 Poetry Contest
Sponsor Natasha L Scragg

For English, Press One

For English, press One
For Spanish, press Two
For a 'Good Time,' press I Love You

For a free gift, press Pound
To win a prize, don't make a sound
For a dial tone, put your phone down

To be placed on hold -- Ha, ha!
To stop the Muzak -- Nah nah! 
To curse your luck -- Waa, waa!

To make a payment, say 'Pay it now'
To cancel your account, say 'I disavow'
To disconnect, say 'Ciao'

Nowhere In Sight

On a grassy verge above the surging rill 
she stood fair haired and proud,
three leaf clover substrate at her toes.
Clutching saline bouquets I had plucked 
from my neighbours walk-in green house.
Woman of resplendent peerage cast a 
pearlescent glance among the swirl-frond 
waves that prey on fractured fjords.
At a distance, in her mind.
But not for long before we fled like butterfly
 escapees over marshes, mounds and meads.
Shriek from sun-dried swallow as we stumble
 awkwardly upon their woodbine nest.
Noonday train fire iron to the fossil
 fuel bled caterpillar plain,
rural muzak for a pinpoint tip toe dash
 through barren fodder,
spiny thistle scald on insect bitten arch,
splashes are a symbol on our craft
 stitch needle knitwear.
Yet I struggled to keep pace on 
raw earth sand stone,
crab apple briar tangles by the dozen 
hung like plastic refuse obstacle,
but nothing now could halt this headlong 
sprint to who knows where.


Date written; 23rd Of December 2020

Date posted to contest ; First Of October 2022

Contest name ; 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 15

        Sponsor ;  Mark Toney

A 26 line poem

Sensible Nonsense

I've hugged the cold rock and walked with rubber legs.

Been planted like a flower, watching the bees do their thing.

The Ozian Wizards dual with silver words and pencil sized swords.

For a few dead presidents you can buy all the wheelbarrows you want.

The Spirit Kings sell their prayers for the simple price of Mahatten.

Monkey Bikers wear leather chaps and race their souped up rides.

Platinum snowflakes fall from heaven, where the streets shine.

Haloed Angels fly in formation, while muzak plays beetoven.

I asked God if He was real, only true believers heard his reply.

Present and Accounted For

i am not a savant
but an idiot for
sure for what
some would
say was a
god made

gift but

the word
"gift" in German
translates to the
word "poison" so
let me wake to take
another dose that will

eventually carry over in
to my sleep where the
soundtrack seems to
never end or praise
be to god for this
elevator door to

never open

so that
the continu
ous muzak may
fill my head at every 
chosen not my choice
moment with these words

i but not

me write but possibly it
might be  did i hear a
tritone   i must go to
the cross road and
try to tune in to it
not forgetting

that this is a gift

Bleating of the Sheep

Black faces of wooly lost voices,
do you hear the siren call
of Little Miss Bo Peep?

Can you see her waving 
a dollar ensign,
Grand Opening mall flag?

Does this retail muzak rhapsody
securely lull you to sleep?
You got so much Egyptian trust
in Lady Cleopatra libidinous liberty

Has material comfort
become your grazing, green pastures ... 
open range captivity?

Shear vote opportunity
is a naked obsession bleat
Cast another empty pocketbook bawl ballot,
and watch your precious 
idolatry covering 
get blanket poll tax fleeced

Angry bleating of the sheep,
another empty promise 
that you hoped 
the wolf shepherds would keep

So truly, light-minded naive ...
how falsely deep you believe
Did you think a vote 
would set your anxieties free?

The chronic weep of color barrier pain,
be dead end tears 
mixed with golden shower purple reign

Oh, woe  woe ... woe
to the bleating of the lost sheep 

Eat the viol worms of your vanity

Seven Segments of Summer

shorts,white socks
sandals and panama-
winter-white legs

no wind,blue skies
dozing in a deckchair-
my afternoon tea,stews

hottest day of summer
flying ants on high-
a mac' swallows drive by
#
open air party-
night muzak,unheard
except by the neighbours

ripples on the pond
empty lily pads-
our frogs dive for more sunscreen

a swarm of crane flies
starlings aereate the lawn-
leather-jackets to go
#
old-timers tea dance-
everyone skip-jives
in slow-motion

After a poetic idea of August Kleinzahler

The Run-Around

Ever get the run-around?
It’s really most annoying
And ruins any stress-free time
You might have been enjoying.

You go online or make a call
And then they start you bouncing
From site to site or man or woman,
All of them announcing…

“I’ll be right back. Can you please hold?”
And then they’re disappearing,
While muzak of the most obnoxious type
You sit there hearing.

The minutes tick away and then
Your pressure gets to boiling,
While language leaves your mouth that has
All listeners recoiling.

At last the problem gets resolved
Or that’s what you are hoping,
‘Cause you’ve exhausted all the tricks
Which you employ for coping.

A Visit To Mom

Atypically,  she was alone
and silent,
wig askew,
all the muzak shut away
behind her half-closed door.
I knew that she had also  drawn
the blinds within her mind,
to soften the impetuosity
of joy.

She struggled
to pull back the thoughts
that like a child
would run away too soon--
reminding me again
that all the "simple things"
she ever thought or said
elude her;
then the love that she had stored within
emerged to let me hear her say,
"I am so thankful 
for my family."

Her 97th year, a time
for facing new goodbyes,
new deaths in her to come,
that we will string upon the fraying tie
that flesh alone will bind.
Then in parting our embrace extended
past my equanimity;  I stepped inside
the elevator, closed the door,
and thus once parted from her
struggled unsuccsessfully
to don my streetwise smile.
              ~
____________

A Collegiate Remembrance

yesterday arrived at my doorstep
flashing her exuberance
through contagious smiles and sculpted features
painted images flickered through my memory
as seasons remembered
the autumn colors that bordered concrete
structures paying homage
to this choice of knowledge

the textbook carriers scurried hungrily 
from door to door
and unlocked pent up furys at 
local dance clubs
the white that fell blanketed the ugliness
w/ virginal qualities
pure driven

and i mask the emotions that lie far from dormant
which soon give way to fluorescent colors
promised by springs birth
discard the hatching of words and expressions 
i wear like clothing
and embrace the celebrations shared on sandy shores
where bronze bodies lie glistening under summer suns
toe-tapping to the sounds of canned Muzak
while games of limbo attract young , agile 
flexing forms

the rhytmatic tides played background to 
laughing children, playing under the safety net of watchful
parents
far removed from urban wear and tear 
grateful for weekend sanctuaries amist loved ones

these images flourish inside my head

Untitled #65 / "you Deserve a Kiss"

“You deserve a kiss!”
she said to me, over
the intercom and Muzak
“So buy our product”
Ah! This consumer society
of which I am a part!

Muzak

Mindlessly meandering, lost in a cloud, this creature so pitiful, 
Unto the shell retreating, seeing ghosts though there is none;
Zilch! nothing is truly new to his endless, tiresome monotone
Akin to conversing with his own solitary reflection on the wall;
Kiddo, wake up, there is more to life than constantly whining.

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