'The Phoenix'

Indeed, they are the symbol and the scourge of modern American life; the stuff of a profligate and consumerist philosopy; the toxic and ubiquitous mass of landfill waste. Together with the lowly steel coathanger, WalMart bags have become an everpresent reminder of the peril under which our civilization labors. Born of the alchemical marriage of petro-derivative science and globalist greed, the BAG represents the Fall of the Holy Woman Empire and the End of the Age.

Parody        'The Phoenix'      by RobArt © 2012

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I shopped so weak and weary,

For many a necessity, or so I thought throughout the store,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a flapping,

As of some one quickly wrapping, wrapping up my purchased cure.

`'Tis some associate,' I muttered, ` flapping piehole at her chore -

Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember popping folded grocer's paper,

In my days at Sav-A-Center when I learned to bag before.

Yesterday was so much better; - I'll be no brainwashed forgetter

Of the wealth we sent to China - China seems to own the store! -

For the dream of lost America - lost when China stocked the store -

Nameless here for evermore.

And the ripping sound reminder of each plastic bagging binder

Killed me - filled me with the sense of something sucking up my country's poor.

So that now, to stop the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

'Tis some CSR entreating me to leave the store,

Some CCTV monitor drone entreating for the CSR

Or RFID tag malfunction, nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,

'Sir,' said I, 'or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and your incoherent flapping,

And my VISA card was swiping, swiping its magnetic core,

That I scarce forgot to sign it - on the touch screen tableture; -

I forgot, and nothing more.'

Deep into the exit fleeing, after I was finished peeing,

Doubting if I'd ever get to exeunt the store;

Then a begging, larcenous Shriner sounded like a squealing whiner

Looking for an all-night diner. That is what the tips are for!

"For the St. Jude Childrens' Diner, that is what your gifts are for!

Merely this and nothing more".

Back unto my truck returning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a flapping somewhat louder than before.

'Surely,' said I, 'surely something flieth by my pickup's window;

Let me see then, if its nothing, ere I pass my house's door -

Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore; -

'Tis a bag and nothing more!'

Open then I flung the portal, unannounced to God or mortal,

In there flew with flapping chortle a bag of that aforesaid store.

Not the least utility had he, not a minute good or bad he,

But, intent to drive me mad, he rested on my kitchen floor -

Rested on the cans of tuna, down upon the kitchen floor -

Rested, flat, and nothing more.

Then this ivory bird defiling all the floor's ceramic tiling

By the useless waste of labor's skills and petrochemic lore,

'Though thy skin be torn and crinkled, thou,'I said,'art sure the wrinkled

Visage of the Beast who rises from his own decayed Manure -

Tell me what import you carry by the 'Always' nom de guerre!

Always equals "Evermore".'

Much I marvelled this foul smelling Phoenix bird of History's telling

As it rises from the swelling ashes of the earth's own Ore.

For we cannot help agreeing now that every human being

Ever yet is cursed with seeing phoenix bird on kitchen floor -

Bird with mein of 'Always' printed on its face, upon the floor,

Named by AlMart 'Evermore.'

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from the bladder's censer

Swung by Satan's spawn whose scents were tinkled on the kitchen floor.

`Wretch,' I cried, `thy god hath lent thee - by the AlMart store has sent thee

Respite - respite and repent thee far away and off my floor!

Quaff, oh quaff this stale urine, the stench is getting on my floor,

Phoenix scriven', `Evermore.'

`Profit!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heav'n that bends above us - by that God we both adore -

Tell this soul with madness laden if, within the distant landfill,

Ye can rest beneath the burden of an eon's worth of gore? -

Tell the years until ye perish, Vanish ye from ocean's shore?'

Quoth the phoenix, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -

`Get thee back into the furnace and the Night's Plutonian store!

Leave no stench or filth of token of that lie thy name hath spoken!

'Always', leave my peace unbroken! - quit from off my kitchen floor!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my floor!

Bird with scriven, `Evermore.'

And the baggie, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the dusty cans of tuna just beyond my kitchen door;

And his wrinkles have the seeming of a demon's visage scheming,

And the light above him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul upon that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Stays forever - Evermore!