Superstore

This is the first poem I ever wrote. Not to be judged - I know the fauts and the plethora of 'ands' is to emphasise rhythm.

 

Superstore.

 

I wander amongst oblivion,

 Amid dull and vacant stare,

    A chariot chopping at my heels

     And Musak in the air.

 

The old, youth’s manners criticise,

Yet I would rather face

A crowd of angry hoodlums

Than a shopping trolley race.

 

As the market doors are opened

 And the tills begin to roar

    And the wild assault commences

     On the narrow alleyed store

         So - the blank, obscure complexions

             And the hustling, bustling herd

               Join the rushing and the pushing

                 For the jars of lemon curd

                     And the package of convenience

                         And the plastic textured bread,

                           Things in place of natural flavour

                              Using glutamate instead.

 

The stocks are getting lower

   And the baskets getting full,

      I walk towards the exit

       And freedom’s strengthening pull

          My patience and my comfort

             I’ve long since lost, - - - they’ve gone

                 And as I wander outward,

 

                       Oblivion marches on.

Reviews

[Patient Poet (Yos)]

well .... perfect is the only way to describe this. Amazing how nothing had changed, the same sales , the same race after the xxxx gifts, the holiday season is on , and your poem is so relevant today... as always you as most poets are sensative to what happen around ... they look at things from aside , like they are not part of the play ... and capture how silly we all look , sometimes.. Thank you Shalom Yossi

[R J Askew]

A fine piece of arch observation of how we are now. I feel your weariness with it all. I like the appearance of the execution also, which has the look of a trolly about it. But it is the way you show us ourselves that is the poem's strongest point. Superstores are somhow superbland and reduce us to units of consumption pushing our trolleys around in a place of a thousand subtle nudges, try this, buy this, keep going, have two, you know it makes sense, forget, feel good. We become dots on spreadsheets, balance sheets, units in the great capitalist-materialilst-modern-social-deomocrat theme park-n-ride that is modern life. We are oblivious of the CCTV cameras, the mounting intrusion, the creeping control. Just pushing our trollys around like good little citizens. And when we get home we will watch Sam Fox and Katie Price in I'm A Celebrity etc with Ant and Dec grinning into our lives. And none of us will have any idea why we do it. But some of us see how poor a life this is. I will be in Sainsbury's at about 7 p.m. this evening.

[JohnL]

This was my first poem. First lines scrawled on a bit of soap box in ASDA - Now Walmart. Birkenhead in about 1976.

Post Script 2009. Yes! It's frightening - that was 32 years ago and I was 40 something. One of the abused young. Of course, the boot is on the other foot now. I'm one of the poor old souls trotting around behind a trolley chopping the heels of the arrogant young. Oh well - pass the baked beans and the lemon curd. Er - - Please.