Buy This PoemA Poem by ZugzwangBuy this Poem The ads for things are everywhere: “Good on ya Mum!” for ‘Tip-Top’ bread The ad tells you the kids say “Yeah!”, But it is shitting in your head.
Some cars are better than the rest; So when you buy a Jeep, of course, You know that you have bought the best: It’s likened to a well-hung horse.
And when we dress, we must dress well: At home, at work, or in a bar. The brands we wear all sound a bell That tells our brethren who we are.
And if you’re thirty and not wed, You’ll notice a sulfurous smell, The world will fall in on your head, And you will plummet straight to hell.
Once you are wed, you have to breed We must create new progeny; If, when you’re gone you’ve sown no seed, We’ll face a crashed economy. When there is no baby-sitter, Your kids will beg for things they’ve seen If, burned out, you set your litter Before Big Brother’s T.V. screen.
Bombastic hard-sell tactics grate, But turn it off, the ads won’t stop: Like a dog or loyal mate, Big Data watches while you shop.
Big Malcolm Turnbull’s rhetoric And Shorten’s words ring not quite true: The one is back-room politics, The other workshopped by his crew.
Big business donates money too To help the parties in their show; Election won, the games not through The donors want their quid pro quo.
The mind-forged manacles within our heads Are corporations’ covert sneering joke. Politicians share their boardroom beds, And we all labour, oxen in the yoke. © 2017 ZugzwangReviews
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Added on November 19, 2017Last Updated on December 6, 2017 |