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Cameron Greer Feb 2016
Everything about you and everyone you know
What you had for breakfast and where you plan to go
Who you call and what you say and precisely where you are
Every visit to the doctor, the mileage on your car

The books you like, the food you buy, the bloggers that you read
How much you gave to charity, your attitude to ****
Every contact, every text, every on-line search
The way you dress, the way you walk, the last time you went to church

No none of this is private now; you're an information source
Of interest to the agencies of order, law, and force
It's for the common good - no really! Can't you see?
And this discussion now, it's over; it's about security

And while we're on the subject, someone really oughta
Keep an eye on her next door; at least until we've caught her
And be mindful what you wish for, now thought-crime's here to stay
But hey! It's Britain not North Korea!  Just mind how you go, OK?

Oh you have to hand it to the creeps - they've diligently been sifting
Not through your bins or bank account when ALL your data lifting
They've no need for tricks or subterfuge since you handed them the keys
You let them in unwittingly, and at the time, were pleased

So now you're pinned and wriggling on their glass one-way wall
You've no more secrets hidden 'cos you've given them them all
Privacy is dead and buried, too late now for bereavement
You slaughtered it yourself:  End User Licence Agreement

It's too late too for tin-foil hats, too late to complain
And anyway, how would you? You've forfeited this game
Join the Twitterati? Start a Facebook page?
Tell your mates on WhatsApp?  All adds more padlocks to your cage

P'raps best not to think too much about it; Yes that's the easy call
Lie back and LOL at kittens, watch Gogglebox, but actually think sod all
Yes buy your Funeral Insurance – it's acquired a curious appeal
And accept, why not, the Kardashians might actually be real

With opinions now as changeable as your boxer shorts
Grey and saggy throwaways, masquerading as your thoughts
You got the lot in Primark's sale, with your knickers and your socks
And you feel freer now than ever, inside your tiny airless box

And that's the way we like it; your illusion of control
Costs us little and lets us rule you in body, heart and soul
So make no waves, do not stand out, enjoy your bread and games
Don't try to dodge the system or we'll cast you to the flames

“Nothing to hide, then nothing to fear” is something you've no doubt heard
But those who shout it loudest know best that it's absurd
So peer behind the curtain, examine every single word
   Because you know they've cracked it... yes finally cracked it...
     The polishing to perfection -  to immaculate, flawless, gleaming perfection - of
Every
Single
****
A couple of UK-centric references in this one, but, hey...
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2019
that's the beauty about writing,
and why I'd be sooner found
dead than making a youtube
video, exercising m'eh
   right of free speech...
       right... talking into
a computer screen,
   alone, in a room...
            if t.v. is so outdated...
did any of these people
watch channel 4's gogglebox?
i watched it once...
   and started freaking out,
as if i were a teen again,
playing the sims,
     finding "god" /
a wormhole,
    when i made the sim
  play the computer...
   whoosh! that **** just
scalped me:
  and all i wanted was either
the feeling of the wind moving
through my hair,
  or in the least: a decent haircut...
the same thing happened to
me watching gogglebox...
   like... voyeurism gone wrong,
a nightmarish version
     of Sartre's keyhole...
        (yes, the computer keyboard
was an evolution of the typewriter,
but touch skin interface
of either tablet or a tablet device?
that's a devolution,
    it has AUTOCORRECT
   built in it... which is ****...
given: i can spot the mistake
quicker, subsequently correct myself,
which is hard for an algorithm
interface that supposes you're
not bright enough to spot it,
and deal with it with a simple
button: DEL, that button,
  just above ENTER);
      well... the t.v. will come
to be the once grand
   Promethean fireplace,
   a place of congregation,
where people look at some shared
"experience" and start talking,
already deviating from
the English idiosyncrasy
of starting "the" polite society
with the topic of: weather.
       mind you, these youtube
"journalists",
  vulture journalism,
               bedroom journalism...
     sure...
        is the sunday times
    on the ****-list of these people...
i just read about footballers
  dying on th pitch from exhaustion...
just because Qatar felt like
staging the FIFA farce world cup
for a mere 400 million bribe...
    or... how no one wants to ask
about the whereabouts of
     the queen of morocco...
           because the king just feels
like visiting knightsbridge
     (the only part of london he knows),
having flown over with his
missing-spare-parts sports car,
to rev and cruise down the streets
with a some minor members
of the saudi royal family...
   while ***** 'arry flew,
somewhere, in a chopper...
    to give a speech about global
warming...
       mainstream... sure...
     centre right...
   you really need to buy one
newspaper in england,
   and... only on a particular day...
sunday!
      so much for these youtube
commentators, when its printed press
on a Sunday.

— The End —