What manner of undead are we?
Floating through aisles
in this grand hall
of consumption
at our worst:
Toothless.
Unkempt.
Called together
at this mundane hour
by various wants:
Snack cakes.
Shampoo.
Popsicles.
Lost in this
sea of products.
Drowning in bargain
t-shirts and 12-packs
of cola.
At this hour
we are all the same:
heaps of organs
behind dead eyes
searching for an open lane.
5 comments:
So this is what happens when you end up at Wal Mart on Sunday at 3 am buying Pedialyte for your sick kid.
Ha ha.. I've been there before. Great inspiration isn't it?
I sensed a bit of Ginsberg's " a supermarket in California" going on in here. the images of ghostly figures and detachment are strong and lead the reader into the empty pit of consumer culture. The lines "we are all the same: heaps and organs.." is a line I wish I wrote, or one I wish I could steal from you. I hope the Pedialyte worked out.
I agree with Brandi and really like the "heaps of organs" line. I think we have all been in this type of situation (for one reason or another) and I think you capture the WalMart scene pretty damn well. There's a desperation that lingers within this poem and I like it.
Just an idea: Do you think you could incorporate the employees as well? Who's more desperate than a graveyard WalMart employee. One of the various wants would be a "paycheck."
I definitely had Ginsberg in mind. Especially while I was there. And Brent, believe it or not. The "toothless" referred to a surly employee who "helped" me. She had 2-3 teeth max.
I love this poem, Chris. As Brandy and Brent attest, this is something most of us have experienced and can relate to. I love the first line and how you extend this metaphor throughout, particularly with your last image: "heaps of organs / behind dead eyes / searching for an open lane." The essence of that hour when we shouldn't be about, yet we are, sleep walking like zombies, is captured beautifully in this poem, bud. This is actually one of my favorites of your posts thus far. Delectable stuff, sir!
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