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Ptax Kuro Jan 13
In general, most things
moved to other rooms after disinfection.
Some of them, of course, kept the smell,
and were immediately thrown away.
Clothes were selectively
used as workwear or rags.
Found weapon was returned
to a safe. Under the iron bed there were even
two extra rounds. One tooth
with a caries mark.
The rest idled in closets.
MisfitOfSociety Jun 2019
The Product:

All that I see,
Are faces of fake people,
Scurrying around,
In search of something real.

“It is not yours it is mine!
I take that which is mine!
I keep what is mine!
I consume what is mine!

Get away from it is mine!
I don’t share what is mine!
I don’t give what is mine!
What is mine is mine!”

False eyelashes!
Make up kits!
L-shaped couches!
And television sets!
They’ve become the things they own.
The things they own, own them!

You are not your job!
You are not your salary!
You are not your wallet!
You don’t need this ****!

****** into the tv,
The product becomes you.
You do whatever,
It tells you to do:
“This is what you want!
This is what you need!
You just got to have it!
You won’t be happy without it!”

You think it will sedate your hunger for happiness,
But you come out unsatisfied.
You try to impress people you don’t know,
Or even care about you;
Too caught up on the outside.

“Happiness must be taken,
And I will take mine!”
A false idea of happiness,
It is not happiness unless it is given!

All the products you see on the tv,
Are begging you to buy your own slavery!

You are the product!

**** your money,
**** your property,
I hope you choke on it!
Earl Cooper May 2019
Art is my,
this....****** is my,
I am not your....,  
High squeals and sun rays coating sight,
heart beats slow as the joke reach its peak,
but you are too much to teach,
Art is my,
this....****** is my,
I am NOT your...,
spontaneous in arousing ways,
Paris for breakfast,
Bali for lunch,
The moon for dinner,
But you are all about your Inner..self,
Art is my,
this......****** is my,
I am not your,
you have the scent of over driven adolescence everywhere,
but taking steps're too attached,
art is my....,
this....****** is my,
my time is my,
my home is my,
my body is my, not your,
I seen she's gotta have it and felt very inspired
A Simillacrum May 2019
Where's this abject
anger come from?

Is it innate or
is it
an acquired trait?

Who owns these lips
grinning at gains?

Out comes the wolf?
Out comes the hominid.

Who owns these tongues
dripping silver?

Produce and consume.
That's how it is.

What an art it is
to dispel doom.

Tried selling concepts?
That's where it is.
MisfitOfSociety May 2019
******* money,
And ******* property.
I don’t need you to be happy.

All that I need is food and water,
A space to live,
And people to love.
I don’t need this property!
I don’t need your permission to be happy!

I don’t own you,
You own me.
I am your property.

I don’t drive my car,
My car drives me.
I don’t sit on my couch,
My couch sits on me.
I don’t watch the tv,
The tv watches me!

We are not the consumers,
We are the products.
They own us.

I have have had it with all this *******,
I am practically drowning in all of it!
All I hear,
All I smell,
All I taste,
All I touch,
All I see, on the tv, is a product,
Tempting me to buy my own slavery!

Buy your slavery!
Be my property!
This will make you happy!
Then die!
Terms and conditions may apply!
Anton Mar 2019
Beneath the cloth and within a wire cage exists a living, breathing sentient being that is owned by the artist. Although the creature may seem to be in distress, the artist gains an economic advantage through use of the creature in his work, and his economic interests are protected by law.
Please be aware that any tampering with the artwork, including removal of the cloth, shall be regarded as vandalism, and you may be required to purchase.
The property status of animals
More at
Sharon Talbot Dec 2018
Knock on any door
And you may hear the cries
Of children, deep within a house,
Whose parents smile at you
With that eroded grin we all know
Like the stony leer of a gargoyle.
And yet you can do nothing.
Not yet…

Visit any friend at their house
And hear the silent pleas
Of a wife and mother
Who endures the fear and pain
For reasons the mystify us.
At least now.

Walk the floor of any factory or boardroom
And you will see the man who bows to his master
While, at home, he treats his family as slaves.

Visit the mansion of any president,
Minister or king
And you may see the ragged masses
Of those who built the walls yet have no home,
Who work the farms and have no food,
Who tend a country and are refugees.

Thus, in the cry of any child,
The fear in a mother’s face or
Silent rage in a worker-slave
Or immigrant dispossessed
And you will see the tyrants who rule,
The fathers who strike and bosses who fire,

Yet all of these serve one master
With many names:
Primeval rank and…

To this power,
There is only one answer
And to alleviate the suffering,
of those oppressed,
Only one thing.
The title comes from a film about an idealistic man trying to help youthful offenders in the 1950's. He sees the larger picture: these troubles arise not in a vacuum but as a result of a corrupt and broken society. I say that civilization itself fits this description when we ask why people suffer.
Avary May 2018
Two independent beings that closely co-exist: love each other, respect each other and worship each other, should not have to claim ownership of each other, as labelling them ‘mine’.
I am not your property.
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