The Movies – a poem

Media Conglomerates

Nameless, faceless, blue-suited, briefcased pomaeded peacocks

Strut the streets, stepping out of their sleek status symbols

Imperviously impersonal market managers pinpoint precisely the price of slaves

And dictate the desires of last year’s average family

While producing carefully calculated demographically unassailable unpalatable

Boxed DVD sets of Soylent Green and other statistically sterile offspring

Published by Ms. C. G. Tripp

The new business cards have arrived and with the speed of virtual press, I am self-titled: Catherine G. Tripp, Writer/Investor. Left brain and right brain have battled for dominance all of my life. I wrote the marketing materials for my mortgage brokerage, had a personal finance column at Examiner.com, wrote essays, short stories and poems published in school papers and magazines then literary journals. If my writings were a color, they would be yellow, bright as sunlight, highlighting the salient portions, not obscuring the past but deconstructing air brushed stories, finding humor and courage in the unloved corners.

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