consumerism – novamartinpoetry.com

The Hill

Over on the hill
the trash trucks line up like
gigantic old snails waiting
for a chance to discard
their 50% load of plastic,
50% load of food waste
into the county appointed space
for depositing trash.

The trucks come here
day after day
until the space turns into a giant mound
and a refuge for buzzards, rats, and pigeons.

Once the mound is too big
the trash trucks form a new line
for a newly allotted space to begin
building a new mound.

And this goes on indefinitely,
in the name of humanity;
the ever-expanding solution.

Poems

The Poverty O Everyone

We stopped at the edge of town,
saw ourselves weeping,
eating our meal for the day
underneath dusty summer air
and the paint chips of oak tree shadows.
The ranch lifestyle we live
with value meals and escapism.
It’s all so much bigger out here
when we take to the road with car,
fellow conscripts of celebrities and story,
along this caravan of want and wanting.
I have participated,
traded the Native American-gold-U.S. dollar.

By the end of your french fries,
your hands covered in grease,
to the town, a sink, a bed,
before you rise and work the grocery aisles.
We’ll return to the burned fields of wheat,
sharing small talk and crooked jaw talk
about the government.

You ask me if I’ve seen,
I ask you if you’ve seen…
Something that’s passed us by
we watch on TV.

Poems

The Church Of Later Days

There is a mystic
that Jesus does not know.

His followers do not know —
they who make their wine,
they who bake their bread.

For their sacrifices taken from others,
their affluence removes them.

A riddle A Domini.

Poems

Into The Town

If I go down into the town,
where the Wal-Mart and Taco Bell await,
let me buy
what others have bought.
I want to have what others have.
Let me follow.
Be a follower.
Be an American.
A Republican or Democrat.
Be a man, always look like one.
Drive a truck.
But if they talk,
if they come to talk to me,
I am me, I have my shotgun,
get out of my way, leave me be.
I am tough.
But, what are they up to?
The collection of cells, organs,
and the latest trends from the internet.
Fight for your life,
fight for your family.
Leave me alone.

Poems

Black And White Retail

novamartinpoetry.com

Does the penis not justify itself?

The vagina not command its own river?

And the person who possesses both
is illegitimate in the paradigm of
black and white.

You go down to the store
and buy some more black and white.

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Poems

Economics And Repugnancies

Get me out of this
Outback Steakhouse.

It is not in the outback.
Nor is it a steakhouse.

If Jenny from 3rd period English
is there,
it will be too much
to watch the plasticine moment
of people purchasing
something that doesn’t exist.

If I sit there and watch the plates
come in,
I will watch them,
watch them bring nothingness.

Jenny’s supple breasts evoke
trances
just like women and children
as items on TV,
or like fathers
with chiseled chins and parted hair
riding shiny new lawnmowers.

Economies are made to make
shit like this.

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

Poems

Not Agenda

I see the inhumane shapes
of women in shop windows.

I know that God exists.

I have to know that God exists

. . . as I see the inhumane shapes
of women in the shop windows.

Things cannot be made,
such as the shapes of women
in the shop windows.

These are of infinity,
burned perfectly in neurons,
and they are not agenda.

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

Poems

The Inequalities Of Women

She lived
while other women
in her church
died,
got breast cancer,
had heart attacks,
grew old.
Her arms stayed thin
on the bone
while others got fat
and flabby,
marbled with vericose veins
and their breath grew
stale and sour.
She felt the fallen masculinity
in the men around her,
their loss of heroism,
though she loved her husband
nonetheless.
She knows this is what
our way of life offers,
so she lived in the moments in between,
the trips to
the nursing home
to visit friends
and the turning of the
Bible pages.

Poems

Your Logos

You wear logos.
The wearing of logos
makes you
feel good.
It makes you who you are.
You are the person
wearing logos
with meaning.
Your meaning is
to be a person and
to wear logos,
to wear the marks of
corporations.
Corporations are
people too.
You give them a voice.
They speak through you.
In your sacred moments here.
Corporations are
sacred too.
If they are not… then why are they?