The whole world is my stage

The catwalk on which I pout

Performing My sexy sexy –

Look at Me, look at My life,

Look at My happy happy image

Filled with My stuff, My shiny things,

My tits and My gym body bliss

And all the holidays

I could ever wish

Distilled into one perfect shot:

One contrived glass of fizz

Against a perfect sunset

Where all the angst of life

Is edited out

And brushsstroked clean,

Proving Me special

And different without doubt

In a tsunami of content, this

Bland-sewering-scum-tide onslaught

Of same and same and Noisy same

Ejaculated on to the face of My screen.


Merry Commercial Christmas


All aboard
Shouts Santa’s
Tannoy’d voice
In scourge of jingled
The under thought
Merrily singing
– sell, sell, sell –
To the tinsel touched
Whose endorphin mush
– buy, consume,
Oh hello hell of

Halloween is barely
Rid its mask
Yet machinery
Is yanked to start:
The conveyer belt –
With only 41 shopping days
Panic due –
Has the duped
Of wanting wide
And kids enlisted eyes
Firmly in its
Gravitational yaw
And pull.

Oh Jesus
Kill me
With a plastic sword
Or heal me of time’s crucifixion,
For I fear
I will not last
This carol-blasted
Foe-fun benediction
Of warm sentiments
Twinkling and contrived,
Nor has my wallet
Felt so pauper-ly old.

Maybe someone
Will get me a new one
This season’s opportunity
To retail with impunity
And give it me
With a measure
Of layered guilt
Festively applied.

Merry Commercial Christmas everyone!
It’s barely but November time!

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015