To market, to sell, to bring about an end.
To create a place that exists without friends.
Behold, behold, this existential chasm,
Prone to fear and hate, and banker’s orgasms.
The market is far away from the life of mine. I really love the market. Cheap and reliable. I can always get some really good chicken wings and some stirng beans. YUM. So good. I always have to pay for people, though because they don’t have a meal plan. Mooch!
a market is a place where one exchanges money for something in return, normally food or essentials. sometimes trivial items, such as trickets, decorations, etc. when i think of market, i usually think of the markey places in movies such as alladin. aladin and abu steal things from this market, which seems to be not a rare thing to do for a street rat. markets also make me think of bread. i love the smell of bread. especially cheese bread that the russian lady makes in my hometown.
I went to the market.
To grab some bread for mom.
I went to the market.
To grab some cereal for dad.
I went to the market,
in hopes of something good.
But when I entered through the doors,
Something good was not what I found.
I went to the market, just like any other day.
Not expecting to not return home…
I think that one of the most visually appealing places for me is the farmer’s market. It is a real feast for the eyes – so much colour, so many textures. The market makes me feel connected to my community and to my food.
The little boy picked up the basket and went to the market
He bought apples and pears and some bananas for his dear
Mother.
She would be so very proud of him and his load!
Maybe today would be the one she would give him a smile.
place to buy food and anything you need for the house in old days people used to go to the market and buy all of their fabrics and food and people who work in markets are boring some are nice some are mean i always go to the market with my mom to buy groceries. markets are smaller then other stores thats why supermarkets sell more things and are cheaper then other things in the market because they dont have eveyrthing you need.
i walk into the market, the fresh produce is piled up on raggety crates the smells overwhelm me. My children grimace at the staring fish and their smells.I tug them along as they beg for goodies. I give in and buy them each one.
The market was filled with fresh fruits and vegetables, colourful varieties that awed both of them. There are some that they have never even seen before. And the smell of the strong cheese coming from the booth…mmm, it lures her over like a lullaby.
The supermarket is the loveliest thing about living in a suburb. The joy of waking up, shutting up, and driving to an an office where a man in a stained silk tie spends his time telling you how replaceable you are, only to step into a cool white abyss with isles of decisions. You are the God of your refrigerator. You are the King of your pantry. You can choose between thirteen different apple juices, and for thirty seconds, you know that you have complete control.
Mark it down, write it up. I have to do this. Obstacles are in the way; push them down, hurl over them. The world needs to see my blood, sweat, and tears–my passion. Without anyone to show it to, it’s nothing. It’s words written and hidden for no one to see but myself.
A pocket full of change one windy afternoon is enough to get you into a movie at Peterson’s Dramatic Theatre. But there’s little else you can do with a dollar and seventy nine cents. The market bustled about him, but Damien stared down at the delicious pastries at his favorite booth. Old Lady Minder had set out some mouth watering biscuits for two dollars and it was all he could do not to take one and pop it into his mouth.
market got him. got him good. should have bought stock in netflix – ticker nflx – but he didn’t have money. cuz market got him. got him good. it was at 22 bucks a share then. now at like $122. damn. market got him. got him good.
I never go to the market. The only real option I would have to go to such a place is the Farmer’s Market downtown. I went with my roommate and my brother once. She bought goat cheese and honey sticks. I wish we had gone in the summer like we’d planned, but getting up that early on break is near impossible. My brother had a good time.
I want to market myself better.
I want to be a desirable item.
I don’t want to be an impulse buy, sitting at the counter.
I want to have substance.
And be desired.
SHopping at the market, I see an old lover holding a cabbage while talking to his parter about which is better bok choy or nappa. I feel like a cabbage standing so near and unable to speak.
I went to the market the other day. But it was home that I should have stayed. Ran into her, picking out fruit. To say hi, but instead stayed mute. This poem sucks.
The end of the world? No, it’s just a meat market! Buy your meats here and I guarantee your house won’t explode or anything. How can I make this guarantee? BECAUSE I’M THE SOLILOQUATOR!!!!!! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YEA!!!!
I want to go to the market to buy new foods with my boyfriend, foods we’ve never tried before. Neither of us. I want us both to experience something strange. Not one person showing or teaching the other, both being completely virginal again. Fall in love all over again.
The marketplace was deserted. Dust gathered on the cardboard bookshelves, carpets hung abandoned from the backs of the stalls. Untouched, untroubled.
Then, from the silence there rang a high pitched scream.
when she could see again,powerful girl realized that she was no longer in the super heroine market:she was jessie,again,and she was half naked(now oversized white leotard,belt,boots and cape)..and freezing cold
Sometimes people go to the market. There’s nothing hthere in particular that they want, they just like to browse. Like to get the feeling of knowing there’s a possibility of a change. Something new, and tangible.
Markets. I remember the markets in China, the ones in Beijing, the fruit markets, the clothing vendors, the little shops with jewelry and other trinkets. I remember the little silver earrings I stole one year when I was seven, the crispy Asian pears my grandfather used to eat with me, the long, flowing mahogany dress I bought on a whim several years later, now collecting dust in my closet.
To market to market to buy a fat pig to market to market jiggedy jig – nursery rhyme from my childhood – market place vegetables fresh tomatoes fresh meat newly slaughtered lamb pigs and the sale of such the marketing of wares materials self
basket crimes and chin meatballs haha love is a splendid thing waht is now napkins are lovely dont you think why are you even here whats your name how are you whats is you hello purple kneeling lovely you dont you? hearts deeting back home milkly you
Market was a silly name. A ridiculous name. Even for parents who were a little crazy on the edges, it still hardly made sense. But Market was a crazy kid, who showed the spirit of his crazy parents. And his crazy ass made that name work.
Market yourself and sell it to others,
This is the only way to survive in a world filled with corruption.
But who needs to be corrupted.
That is what’s known as taking the easy way out.
I want to shout out that we don’t have to succumb to this drought
There’s another way to live.
Find a wellspring within.
she went to the market in the morning. it was one of those mornings that got caught in the dew. it was almost icy, but not quite. at the market, she plucked the pears from their elaborate pyramids, squeezed their skins, and guessed as to their juiciness.
To market, to sell, to bring about an end.
To create a place that exists without friends.
Behold, behold, this existential chasm,
Prone to fear and hate, and banker’s orgasms.
The market is far away from the life of mine. I really love the market. Cheap and reliable. I can always get some really good chicken wings and some stirng beans. YUM. So good. I always have to pay for people, though because they don’t have a meal plan. Mooch!
yellow lemons
red pomegranates
purple grapes
orange oranges
fruits
market
themselves
a market is a place where one exchanges money for something in return, normally food or essentials. sometimes trivial items, such as trickets, decorations, etc. when i think of market, i usually think of the markey places in movies such as alladin. aladin and abu steal things from this market, which seems to be not a rare thing to do for a street rat. markets also make me think of bread. i love the smell of bread. especially cheese bread that the russian lady makes in my hometown.
I went to the market.
To grab some bread for mom.
I went to the market.
To grab some cereal for dad.
I went to the market,
in hopes of something good.
But when I entered through the doors,
Something good was not what I found.
I went to the market, just like any other day.
Not expecting to not return home…
I think that one of the most visually appealing places for me is the farmer’s market. It is a real feast for the eyes – so much colour, so many textures. The market makes me feel connected to my community and to my food.
The little boy picked up the basket and went to the market
He bought apples and pears and some bananas for his dear
Mother.
She would be so very proud of him and his load!
Maybe today would be the one she would give him a smile.
market, marker, make a mark, this little piggy went to the market. mark, store, farmer’s market…..
place to buy food and anything you need for the house in old days people used to go to the market and buy all of their fabrics and food and people who work in markets are boring some are nice some are mean i always go to the market with my mom to buy groceries. markets are smaller then other stores thats why supermarkets sell more things and are cheaper then other things in the market because they dont have eveyrthing you need.
i walk into the market, the fresh produce is piled up on raggety crates the smells overwhelm me. My children grimace at the staring fish and their smells.I tug them along as they beg for goodies. I give in and buy them each one.
you can mark it if you want
but you won’t recognize it from the front
even if you draw it bold in black
the individuality would still lack
black
markets are wonderful. they are full of cookies. i wish i had one now. i would like to go to a market and buy all the cookies. omnomnomnom!
The market was filled with fresh fruits and vegetables, colourful varieties that awed both of them. There are some that they have never even seen before. And the smell of the strong cheese coming from the booth…mmm, it lures her over like a lullaby.
The supermarket is the loveliest thing about living in a suburb. The joy of waking up, shutting up, and driving to an an office where a man in a stained silk tie spends his time telling you how replaceable you are, only to step into a cool white abyss with isles of decisions. You are the God of your refrigerator. You are the King of your pantry. You can choose between thirteen different apple juices, and for thirty seconds, you know that you have complete control.
things and money. The stock market… trouble.. pain. Necessity? Whole foods, Farmers… the good side.
I went to the market for sun chips. And then I realized–Sun Chips. Sun Chips Are Good For The Soul. One Less Lonely Sun Chip.
Mark it down, write it up. I have to do this. Obstacles are in the way; push them down, hurl over them. The world needs to see my blood, sweat, and tears–my passion. Without anyone to show it to, it’s nothing. It’s words written and hidden for no one to see but myself.
“We’re going to die soon, you know.”
“I know. We’ll die even sooner if we try to leave.”
“Right. Remember the days when all one need to do to get food was to walk to the market and buy it?”
“No. I can’t.”
A pocket full of change one windy afternoon is enough to get you into a movie at Peterson’s Dramatic Theatre. But there’s little else you can do with a dollar and seventy nine cents. The market bustled about him, but Damien stared down at the delicious pastries at his favorite booth. Old Lady Minder had set out some mouth watering biscuits for two dollars and it was all he could do not to take one and pop it into his mouth.
market got him. got him good. should have bought stock in netflix – ticker nflx – but he didn’t have money. cuz market got him. got him good. it was at 22 bucks a share then. now at like $122. damn. market got him. got him good.
I never go to the market. The only real option I would have to go to such a place is the Farmer’s Market downtown. I went with my roommate and my brother once. She bought goat cheese and honey sticks. I wish we had gone in the summer like we’d planned, but getting up that early on break is near impossible. My brother had a good time.
shopping, cereal, cars, people, fruit, I like to buy apples for my girl and some flowers too. place, walk
I want to market myself better.
I want to be a desirable item.
I don’t want to be an impulse buy, sitting at the counter.
I want to have substance.
And be desired.
SHopping at the market, I see an old lover holding a cabbage while talking to his parter about which is better bok choy or nappa. I feel like a cabbage standing so near and unable to speak.
I went to the market the other day. But it was home that I should have stayed. Ran into her, picking out fruit. To say hi, but instead stayed mute. This poem sucks.
The market was bustling with people, all with a purpose all their own. And if you listened carefully, you could hear their stories told.
The end of the world? No, it’s just a meat market! Buy your meats here and I guarantee your house won’t explode or anything. How can I make this guarantee? BECAUSE I’M THE SOLILOQUATOR!!!!!! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YEA!!!!
Kidney is on sale today, too!
I want to go to the market to buy new foods with my boyfriend, foods we’ve never tried before. Neither of us. I want us both to experience something strange. Not one person showing or teaching the other, both being completely virginal again. Fall in love all over again.
The marketplace was deserted. Dust gathered on the cardboard bookshelves, carpets hung abandoned from the backs of the stalls. Untouched, untroubled.
Then, from the silence there rang a high pitched scream.
I went to the flea market today and met an elderly man. He is an author of historical books, and I will be talking to him again. I loved our meeting.
when she could see again,powerful girl realized that she was no longer in the super heroine market:she was jessie,again,and she was half naked(now oversized white leotard,belt,boots and cape)..and freezing cold
Sometimes people go to the market. There’s nothing hthere in particular that they want, they just like to browse. Like to get the feeling of knowing there’s a possibility of a change. Something new, and tangible.
Markets. I remember the markets in China, the ones in Beijing, the fruit markets, the clothing vendors, the little shops with jewelry and other trinkets. I remember the little silver earrings I stole one year when I was seven, the crispy Asian pears my grandfather used to eat with me, the long, flowing mahogany dress I bought on a whim several years later, now collecting dust in my closet.
To market to market to buy a fat pig to market to market jiggedy jig – nursery rhyme from my childhood – market place vegetables fresh tomatoes fresh meat newly slaughtered lamb pigs and the sale of such the marketing of wares materials self
basket crimes and chin meatballs haha love is a splendid thing waht is now napkins are lovely dont you think why are you even here whats your name how are you whats is you hello purple kneeling lovely you dont you? hearts deeting back home milkly you
Market was a silly name. A ridiculous name. Even for parents who were a little crazy on the edges, it still hardly made sense. But Market was a crazy kid, who showed the spirit of his crazy parents. And his crazy ass made that name work.
Market yourself and sell it to others,
This is the only way to survive in a world filled with corruption.
But who needs to be corrupted.
That is what’s known as taking the easy way out.
I want to shout out that we don’t have to succumb to this drought
There’s another way to live.
Find a wellspring within.
market is a place I would like to go, the least of all the places on earth. Lot of people and lot of things and confusion occur there.
she went to the market in the morning. it was one of those mornings that got caught in the dew. it was almost icy, but not quite. at the market, she plucked the pears from their elaborate pyramids, squeezed their skins, and guessed as to their juiciness.