In 1968 I was filling my hope chest with embroidered tea towels.
I spent a week’s salary on a mushroom canister set in 1969.
Sears had a collection of mushroom kitchen items.
They were called the Merry Mushrooms.
I began embroidering new tea towels that matched the MMs.
Not realizing that mushrooms had anything to do with drugs.
Great store,
I grew up with. The smell of roasting nuts. The toy aisles that went on for miles. Closing.
Date Written: 12/13/2020
1 Place
Trademark~~Quintain
Contest Judged:12/31/2020 6:25:00 AM
Sponsored by: Sara Kendrick
I’d dreamed about it every night
and seen it every single day
in Sears and Roebuck’s grand Wish Book.
I’d taken every chance to say,
“PLEASE, Mom, PLEASE, Dad, write Santa.
Tell him I’ve been good the whole year through!
I wrote and told him what I want,
but it can’t hurt to hear from you!”
Then there I stood, and there it was—
all red and shiny, by the tree--
that scooter I’d been wanting so
from Wishbook, page one twenty-three.
I am a man who loves Sears and tools a lot.
But if you're wondering if I'm happy, I am not.
Something happened that drove me to tears.
I have been permanently banned from Sears.
I visited Sears one day and I tested a propane heater in the store.
There was a big explosion that propelled me to the above floor.
I haven't been banned from just that Sears, I've been banned from them all.
They won't let me return even though I wept like a girl and decided to crawl.
What happened makes me so upset that I cuss like a sailor.
They banned me even though I'm Tim the Toolman Taylor.
roaring righteous ravenous rage
blooming warped inside a cage
evolving and eating the solution
bathing and swelling in pollution
unsteady digits of weary animals
claw paths through closing portals
opening gates screeching light
banishing shades of lucid night
guarding the secret seal
pouring out what is real
through exhalations of fire
devouring flowers of desire
until charred clouds decay
breaking apart bitter clay
unveiling veiled visages
spreading severed messages
like flighty feathered seeds
sowing thick roots of deeds
into hearts in heaven and hell
locked within a warring spell
the question is a cancer spawning
a hunger for the answer dawning
repeated shapes of stories binding
everything feeling is always dying
Ego maniac’s reflex
with inferiority complex
then come stay here rover
for it is death you obey hell it’s grave
Know nothing knower
no Christ no grace
Already under the wrath
repent or parish
You do the math
You may say unfairish
it was Jesus who became your bleeder
apologies needed for God so loved Dear Reader
You’ll never know what you meant
To me..
How your love tightly wrapped
Around my heart..
Completely bonded our love for
Eternal.
All my memories I conceive of you
It
Just burn down in the center of my
Soul,
I breathe every memory of you
Time is passing so quickly but
Yet it seem like only yesterday
That you were here
I close my eyes and I see your
Smiling face..
I’m sending my messages to you
By western union..
Maybe fed...
Which ever one can reach you
Faster..
Am standing here at the end of my
Road..
Waiting..
Waiting...
For you and your love
You belong to me and
I belong to you...
It’s burning deep within my soul
Am standing here..
Waiting here...
Dedicated To My One Love
Jerry Sears
2-12-50 Died 6-20-1973
My husband
My Love..
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