Consumerism

Shopping is my hobby,

And money was almost never involved.

 

I am a consumerist of senses

Observation my strongest one

Eyes,

Scanning for salmon free of astaxanthin,

Ears,

Drinking in the crinkle of plastic wrapped stationery,

Mouth,

Breathing in the taste of capitalism,

Hands,

Running along shelves

Collecting dust and product quality,

I was the store’s best supervisor

Yet no one hired me

A label tied to the back of the black’s jean pocket,

Explaining the high-cut tapering

and design reliability,

A price taping together packings’ lips

Cost rises, gradings’ higher,

This attracts the buyer,  

A tag wound around wrists of watch stands,

Ensuring a safety approved lab report,  

A book synopsis about some young adolescents,

Telling their story in one simple sentence.

 

Predictability is a key element in marketing strategy,

People invest in security,

Fear is found in the unknown,

In all the details not shown,

But mine was in the predictability,

How prejudice found root in me.

 

Racism is only dangerous when directed at the opposition,

But when discrimination is within the team,

It’s evaluation and not blaspheme.

Expectations were only justified by product performance,

And I couldn’t deliver.

 

They sent in the engineers, the mechanics,

Team product design,

Trying to make me fit the label description,

But when the others malfunction,

They tell me not to make assumptions.

 

And I’m trying hard,

So hard,

Not to read the labels,

And disregard the stereotypes assigned,

 

But if you buy a product,

And it breaks the first,

The second,

And the third time,

Till my wallet runs dry and nothing’s left to spend,

Would you not blame the brand?

 

But we are not products,

We are not part of a consumerist society that needs to be purchased,

We are not marketable pieces,

We are not your profit.

 

I’m versatile and so are you,

We are as changing as the wind and rains,

Though we can forecast some days,

Unforeseen changes it will bring,

 

And we will rain down,

Rain on the couple who wanted a date out,

We will ruin wedding photoshoots,

Screw over brightness settings,

And we will melt,

Melt the boundaries that predicted spring as too late.

 

We are united and apart

We are similar, not synonymous,

We are walking contradictions,

And we will clash like waves against the battered rejects of instruments in the riverbank,

Creating sounds that don’t belong in an orchestra,

But creating an alarm warning for  perfectionism

And artistic destruction.

 

Sight is a blessing,

For predictability it gives,

But vision is an earned gift,

For possibility is not what you see,

Choices, define what we want to be.

 

And yes,

We need to know before we commit,

But sometimes,

We need to trust just a little bit.

 

-Yuki Hansa.

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