A kid makes a finger gun
With hammer thumb
To fire at passing traffic,
From the cover of his bunker bus stop;
In America he’d be an active shooter
****, they have names for it over there,
Here he’s just a ******* nuisance;
His shelter advertises a deodorant
Shaped just like and called bullet
Perhaps some subliminal message
Has entered his head
The power of advertising, the power of death.

For a deodorant that advocates love and attraction
It’s a strange message.

All of my targeted ads remember
that we wanted to go to Iceland
in winter
to see the Aurora Borealis,

and they bombard me relentlessly
as if marketing in memories.

This instance is not unique.

It seems
no matter how many buttons I push
in attempts to subdue
these bright incursions,

I can't mute you completely.

Advertise my soul,
capitalise from my sins.
Dig the earth for coal,
a market built for kings.
Suppress for your control,
fill your life with things.
Abolition of self-control,
a life attached to strings.

HEY COPS!
FEELING STRESSED?
WORK CAUSING TROUBLES AT HOME?
EXPERIENCING REAL HUMAN ISSUES?
AMERICA UNDERSTANDS.
SO WE’D LIKE TO OFFER YOU
A PAID VACATION
AND STATE FUNDED THERAPY!
HOW YOU ASK?
IT’S EASY!
**** SOMEBODY
black

*offer may not be applicable after elections

Welcome to Ad Corp.
We **** your souls out for cash.
Ad Corp: “We’re evil!”

As soon as you make something seem terrible,
it becomes
slightly terrible.

Someone could be using that very something in a good way,
but as soon as someone comes up with a bad way it could be used,
that thing becomes tainted by thought.

Those people ignore the good in that thing,
and imagine a bad future with it,
creating a taboo that is almost inescapable.

Our thoughts create our future.
Give things a chance.
Think positive.

The future is in our hands.
It is also in the hands of bad people.
We must coexist and cease blame on things.