©2015 by Jack A. Urquhart
Listen a moment
and you will hear it,
the universal jingle—
electric, crepitating,
omnipresent in your head.
Barely a hearbeat’s respite
before here it comes again—
the tympanic soap opera;
the static Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizzing
across dissevered nerves.
BAZAAR BOMBER KILLS FORTY!
DETAILS AT SIX! NOW THIS—
it whoops, wheezes, whistles.
HUGE SALE!
EVERYTHING MUST GO-GO-GO!
The contrapuntal ditty
spans infinite octaves,
and the rest of your life;
boasts a closed-circuit libretto
scrubbed Cleaner than Clean
to Double Your Pleasure:
BUY ONE, GET ONE FREE!
it Snaps, Crackles, Pops.
EVERYTHING MUST GO-GO-GO!
Truly, never was trumpeted
A more Bubblelicious
bla-bla-blathering.
For surely you’ve divined it—
that there is no escaping
the Juicy-Fruity madness,
that you are audience-bound,
Starburst to Starburst
to finite attention;
a peon mortally obliged
to listen, and listen, and listen?
I was having trouble getting your website to open, so I Googled Every Man Jack. Did you know that there is a line of men’s personal grooming products called Every Man Jack? I found that ironic given the subject of your poem!