An ad campaign for many years
To sell Dos Equis beer
Employed a pitchman, who has now
Appeared to disappear.
They called him “The most interesting
Man in all the world,”
But now he’s been laid off and rumors
Naturally have swirled.
The truth, of course, is no surprise –
They’ve kicked him off the stage
For reasons very Hollywood –
In other words, his age.
The actor, in his seventies,
Has quickly been replaced
By someone forty-one, whose youth
The marketers embraced.
I guess you can’t be interesting
When your years advance,
So if offered a Dos Equis now,
I’d smile and say, “Fat chance!”
Categories:
pitchman, age,
Form: Rhyme
The pitchman on the radio
Said, “Mothers’ Day’s next week.
So here’s a special deal for you,
To order as I speak.
One hundred flowers in a vase
For $19.99!”
He then gave the location
Where to find this deal online.
The offer came without a price
For shipping or for tax.
We figured it would be 10 bucks
Or 20 at the max.
But sending it on Mothers’ Day
Was 50 bucks to ship!
This “bargain” suddenly became
An offer we could skip.
Beware of ads that promise
Something sounding like a steal,
For the hidden costs not mentioned
Might just dampen the appeal.
Categories:
pitchman, money, mothers day,
Form: Rhyme
Another day—another death takes hold.The Reaper moves on, silent and cold.
With one fell swoop, his scythe finds its mark,A neutral figure moving through the dark.
Tonight, he wore the shape of a man,And took down a pitchman, just as planned.
He knew him well—of good but twisted deeds,Truth tangled in lies, cut down like weeds.
The sun arose; the Reaper does not sleep.Another soul gone, the tally steep.
A woman, bold—rose up to CEO,The cloaked one came; it was her time to go.
An innocent child grew deathly pale,And swiftly the Reaper tipped life’s scale.
A man sobbed as his wife was swept away—Sixty years of love, gone in a day.
A plane fell fast, smoke streaking the sky—The Reaper's ledger echoed with goodbye.
A suicide bomber stood on deadly ground,He marked that name without a sound.
The world grew darker, headlines bled,And the Reaper paused… bowed his head.
Just this once—beneath the weight and hue...The Grim Reaper, quietly… cried too.
Want to pair this with a visual poem layout or develop a companion piece like Mercy at Midnight or The Watcher’s Lament
Categories:
pitchman, age, america, anger, anxiety,
Form: Rhyme
I want my MTV!!
....used to be the refrain in my younger days
Rebelling felt great, we stayed up late
VJ's were the essence of cool
But now no V's to J...only so many commercials-obscene
shows pick up steam-capped off with reruns
of "My SuperSweet 16"
keeping kids based in reality...right
When did the rebel become the pitchman?
substance fell through the floor
they break necks to homogenize, androgenize
easier to sell to one soulless, brainwashed mass
video killed the radio star? Advertisement killed the artist!!
In other "news"....
someone just stuck a camera in Brad Pitt's face!!
Here he comes out of his house now, shielding childs face
He looks annoyed swatting off flashbulb mosquitos
late for his kids doctor exam
...dismissive prick...ClickClick Brad!Brad! ClickClick
If I were a star, there would no doubt
be a paparazzi genocide on my front lawn
Categories:
pitchman, funny
Form: Free verse
Once upon a midnight dreary,
Endless informercials makin' me weary...
Over Billy Mays' droning, screeching voice,
Annoying us, seems we have no choice...
While I reloaded my gun to end his endless rasping,
Makin' me go insane, I ain't crapping...
" 'T is time to end these ads so madding,"
Screeching TV ads so mind zapping,
Such a hated late night TV pitchman entreating,
These infuriating nuisance TV ads endlessly repeating,
I knew then that he was a craven,
Irritating screaming junk product maven,
I looked down at my gun barrel,
Pointed it at my head,
Thought again, then pointed it at the TV instead,
Well, it cost me $400 for me to replace,
But you should'a seen,
My beaming face!
Categories:
pitchman, allegory, fantasy, imagination, inspirational,
Form: Burlesque