En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Supermarket

I paid a visit to the shops,
On the arrival my wits died;
Money was exercised and I was made,
My own business stayed in the eyes,
The money made me rich and also richer.
No game was in the air, the shops,
The shops, and more shops.
This was a supermarket bustling with goods,
Food employed me to encounter it,
The wit of dying came to ruins,
The care of dying was living,
And this was the supermarket.

poem by Naveed Akram
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What for is money?

I thought on how could be the life
Without having to work for money.
After all this is the money which we work for.

Had we only have enough money to spend
We won’t have to toil our body or brain.
Solution also seemed very easy to me.

Just have a lot of mints to mint money.
Make as much money as may people need
Give them as much as may people want.

All problems are seemingly soon gone.
The root of all evils I thought could be
the root of happiness of all kind instead.

“How could this easy way out be overlooked? ”
Thinking furthermore I thought.
We need mints and we need paper and ink.

We need banks and a lot of ATMs.
People will get money and go for shopping
So we need ample shops. In shops we need products.

We need make shops and we need make products.
but we also need people to run them.
So some people will make paper and some ink.

Some other will work in mints and banks.
Some will work in shops and making products.
Rest all the people will only happily buy things.

Thinking up to here my thought jumbled.

People needed money so they worked.
If money was available for doing no work
Then why should there be anyone to work?

If no one works then where from comes paper and ink?
Where from comes money, banksand ATMs?
Where from then comes products?

Without products how could then we live and enjoy?

So we need products and for products we need to work,
to get people into the works we need money.
So it was that money could not be made free.

I thought 'People have already thought it before me.'

poem by Palas kumar Ray
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Avenue Of Love

(9/24/12)

Love is an avenue of which to explore
Go to any shop and open the door
Shops for every feeling known to man
Walk in to understand.

Shops for pain, sorrow, bitterness and heartbreak
Shop around - it's not to late.
Shops for joy, happiness, contentment, devotion
Shops for every emotion.

Stop in - look around - feel every emotion
That can be found.
Shop around ahead of time
To find out what awaits down the line.

But do not be fearful of pains
That may await
Take the chance - don't hesitate.

You can search every shop that's on this street
But there is nothing that can compete
To the love that you have deep inside
A love so beautiful that you can not hide

All these shops are in your soul
Open the doors and life unfolds.

© L. RAMS

poem by Louis Rams
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Stupidity Street

I saw with open eyes
Singing birds sweet
Sold in the shops
For people to eat,
Sold in the shops of
Stupidity Street.
I saw in vision
The worm in the wheat,
And in the shops nothing
For people to eat;
Nothing for sale in
Stupidity Street.

poem by Ralph Hodgson
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There are apothecaries' shops, where prepared medicines, liquids, ointments, and plasters are sold; barbers' shops, where they wash and shave the head; and restaurateurs, that furnish food and drink at a certain price.

quote by Hernando Cortes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yule Fever (With apologies to the King's Minstrel)

I must go down to the shops again, to the crowded shops go I
And all I have is a long list of the gifts that I must buy,
And a few bob in the old kick and a mere spot of credit;
For he'll trust me, so the boss said, but I hate the way he said it.

I must go down to the shops again, for the call of Christmastide
Is a stern call and a hard call that may not be denied.
And all I ask is a fair choice at reasonable prices
And a hard heart for bland blokes with blandishing devices.

I must go down to the shops again. There's gifts for Mum and Dad
And Jim's gift and Joe's gift and toy for Peter's lad.
Then all I want are gloves for Clare? And June? I'll send her roses,
And - who's next? The list says - I've lost it! Holy Moses!

But I must go down to the shops again, to the shops and the milling crowd
On a hot day and a fierce day when the skies know ne'er a cloud;
And all I ask is a fair spin 'mid the masses overheating
And the loud bawl of the bored babe, and the toy drums beating.

I must go down to the shops again, for I would be counted still
With the kind ./.. of the free hand in this season of goodwill;
And all I ask is a stout heart to carry on undaunted
While we scour town for the salt-pot that we know Aunt Annie wanted.

I must go down to the shops again, for they'll ply me, sure as fate
With the pink tie and the puce sock, and I must reciprocate.
But all I ask is a long seat when the weary trek is finished
And enough left for the Yule feast ere the bank-roll be dimished.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Charity Shop

They're not called second hand stores
as that's not politically correct
so you must call them charity shops
out of courtesy and respect.
But where would we be without them?
because some are like an Aladdin's cave
as in them you'll find all kinds of stuff
and look at all the money you can save.
There's clothes for all shapes and sizes
Jumpers, T.Shirts, Trousers, and Shoes,
myself I like looking through the books
and the C.D'S of Rock, Pop, and the Blues.
We're living in a time of Austerity
meaning there's not much money to go around
so thank God for all of the charity shops
and those that sell everything for a pound.
So if your a bloke looking for a suit
or a woman after a blouse or a top
there's a good chance you'll find one
down your good old local charity shop!

poem by Kevin Halls
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If i were a rich biatch!

If i was rich,
i'd buy lots of things,
glitzy bits,
and diamond rings,
there would be,
no money rashings,
i'd have to follow,
the trendy fashions,
i'd eat out in expensive places,
and you would still see,
the same old wasters,
if i were rich,
i'd have no money worries,
i would get down to the shops in a hurry,
but i'm not rich,
and i never will be,
i work hard for my money,
and that is me!

poor or rich?
i can't choose which,
but i will never be a rich biatch! !

poem by Emma Jane Rae
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The Mall

Shops, snack bars

Chains of shops

To chain you to shopping

Lights, gleaming paint

Amusements galore

Kids hang out

At the mall

The modern day

Consumer fair

Built, just to consume

YOU

poem by Jason Palmer
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Take things for granted

We all take things for granted,
Like we have mobile phones,
A nice warm house,
Clean clothes and clean water,
Fresh food,
And a nice cosy bed.

People in other countries,
Don't have all of that,
They wish they do,
They want clean water,
They want food,
And a warm secure home.

We take other things for granted like:
Education to learn,
Jobs to get money,
Shops to buy food,
Toys, games and computers to entertain,
Also hospitals and cures for diseases.

Poor countries don't get education,
To learn like us,
They don't have jobs to get money,
Or shops to get food,
Or hospitals or games,
They make their own toys and dolls,
From materials near by.

We take loads of things for granted,
We just don't realise it.

Wrote when in a random mood

poem by StaceyLeigh Olner
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Surprise in Japan - Shinjuku's sex toy shop

shinjuku sex shop
it's more interesting to buy
one staffer quips

The sex shops paraded rubbery sex toys all over. It was my first visit to a sex shop and was quite thrilled by the openness Japanese had towards such merchandise. The staffer was a woman. Shinjuku Kabukicho is one large red light area so such shops are found in the area. Perhaps she knew I am not a Japanese and tried to put a light joke on my visit. She knew it would be hard to sell me an item. But that was a surprise, a Japanese woman trying to sell something quite 'offensive' to a man and being quite cheeky about it.

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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In Sandringham

In Sandringham by the Pacific sea
The Town is quiet on this August sunday
Most of the shops for the weekend have closed
And dark rain clouds hang low above the bay

But Sandringham is not always like this
In Spring and Summer 'tis a busy Town
On sundays shops are open people crowd the street
From mid morning until the sun go down

But I would prefer Sandringham like this
I sit here in quiet cafe sipping tea
And only a few locals to be seen
And loudest sound the rolling of the sea.

The silver gulls outside the cafe door
They wait for handouts chips and scraps of bread
But man made food not much good for their health
It slowly kills them so it has been said.

I love the sea side towns on days like these
The streets are quiet and few people to be seen
And the loudest sound the rolling of the waves
And a soul soothing tranquility reign supreme.

In Sandringham by the Pacific sea
The Town is quiet on this August sunday
Most of the shops for the weekend have closed
And dark rain clouds hang low above the bay.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Chronic alcoholism!

Wine shops,
Government sponsored,
Suicide attempt!

Wine shops,
Government sponsored,
Encouraging suicide!

Irrespective of caste and creed,
Education no bar,
Chronic alcoholism!

poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Listening to a Drunk Complain about His Wife

There is a man sat at the bar
Complaining about his wife
How she continually finds jobs for him
Never allowing a moments rest
How he loathes the shopping trips
Standing around while she tries on dresses
Fifteen shops and back to the first
Still not a purchase made
Is the result of an afternoon wasted
He continues to complain drinking on
Saying how he wishes to be alone
I laugh knowing full well the difference
Knowing the lonely nights
The feeling of needing someone to talk to
Dining on a simple meal for one
Late night television being a companion
I’d trade it all to walk around shops
Complain about doing jobs
And whatever meal is prepared for me
The is a man sat drinking at the bar
He complains about his wife
And all I can think to say
You don’t know how lucky you are

poem by Matthew Holloway
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Be yourself? Or act? Hide?

People are people,
Trees are trees,
Chairs are chairs,
Leaves are leaves,
Boxes are boxes,
Glasses are glasses,
Shops are shops,
Passers by are just passers,

People are the people they were born to be,
Whether that makes them “normal” or not,
Some people are totally care free,
Some people care an awful lot,

If someone is gay,
Then they are themselves,
If someone is lesbian,
Then they are themselves,
If someone is fat,
They are themselves,
If someone is thin,
They are themselves,

Some people act,
They act as other people,
They don’t want to be themselves,
They mustn’t be happy,

If you are who you are,
And receive grief,
They are only jealous,
If you are not who you are,
People look at you in pity,
They aren’t so jealous,
You can never win,
Do you be yourself?
Do you act?
Either way people judge wrong,
Is it them covering?
Is it them acting?
Are they themselves?
Or are they also hiding?

poem by Jodie Louise Pollock
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On the whole, and this comment can get me in a lot of trouble, I find that retailers in the comic book business are not business people. They're fans who've gotten themselves shops.

quote by Rob Walton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops.

quote by Kurt Vonnegut
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sestina #2

why
I don't care for the money
I don't care for nothing
because every feeling you had was no more that words
but they have been my food
and never filled me, you had nothing to quench my thirst

thirst
I'm tires of the repetion tell me why.
my body is dying I need food
I'm sorry I made a mistake, but I want no money
just countless words
that speakes to nothing

Nothing
my three days are up, I beg thee quench my thirst
I'm so pleased to say those words
my rhetorical question is: why?
I rather to live in the 30's than to have money
I rather live without food

fourth time I said food
Dear, it's nothing.
You shown me that before, I HATE IT, the money.
emotions are dry. and I thirst
...you moke me, why?
they are more than words

they are Words
an entity that my mind's eye use as food
something is new, again why?
i'm teary eyed. It's nothing
situation change, but I'll never dout my thirst.
You are wrong, my mind does not want money

money
it makes lame all your words
your eye is dim, you thirst.
the lines I writes can be your food
but you want nothing
I don't care. don't ask, why

I'm tired of the symobles for money, because they have no belly for food
esoteric words, impressing nothing.
And i still still thrist...why?

poem by Victoria Lee
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Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops.

Kurt Vonnegut in Slaughterhouse-Five
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Money

Money money money
Everybody wants some
No money church can't run
Money for this
Money for that
No life without it
Can't sleep
She says hell
In this house
If she don't get it!

Before you get paid
Taxman grab it
Buy something
He grab it again
When money pressure hit
You cannot afford to get sick
Doctors want some
And if you dead without it
You will not be buried
Not even in the sticks

Money money money
It's like blood
It's the way world runs
Need money for food
Need money for fun
If you have no money
Blood a go run
Man join the army
To get some of it
Would be alive
If he had it

Money money money
Where is the money?
Have to get money
Before the day is done
Donkey cough
When you are broke
No money
Donkey don't eat
Everything stops
Earth can't turn
Have to have money
Even some to burn

Money money money
Where did it go?
Pocket is empty
And I just got paid
Maybe my woman took it
Thought I had it made
Thought I had a hundred
But I don't have twenty
Now I am in trouble
I have to leave yard
But I can't leave
If I don't have any

What a thing this is
Money! money! money!
Eh!

12/4/09

poem by Buxton Shippy
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Shop, she shops!

Once she constantly smiled
Bought cloths and jewelry that gave her style

Shop, shop, shop
She shopped till she dropped
Shop, shop, shop
She just could not seem to stop

Her credit was on top
Her spending way rocket up
She paid with cash or credit card
This Lady was absolutely shopping mad
Shoping malls!
Markets stalls!
Shoes, clothing, and handbags she bought all year long
Spend, spend and spend daily was her beloved song

Shop, shop, shop
She now shops like a flop
Shop, shop, shop
This lady has now put a stop

Today is different shopping expedition
This time spending with supervision
No more that crazy spending addiction

Her credit card is cut
Her goods seized, the whole lot
Today she spends, her pockets hurt!

She has become street wise
Haggling with each price
She has become precise
About what she needs and not what is nice

Shop, shop, shop
She shops like a flop
Shop, shop, shop
Her spending has taken a big drop!
This lady has now put a stop to shop!

Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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