Snoop
I’m the man who reads the emails and the texts and also tweets
And the one who listens into every mobile conversation
Some of it is poetry as sweet as Blake or Keats
Some of it quite frankly is the cause of great frustration
You don’t know that I’m there so I am not a party pooper
And none of you’d be safe if I was not the national snooper
I also keep my eye on screens – on TV that’s close circuit
Skim images on Flickr, or on any social media
I know your till-rolls – it’s my job, I’m paid, I shouldn’t shirk it
And sorting through your digi-snaps is regular procedure
Of course I am anonymous, you don’t know who I am
And 96% of what I read is junk or spam
It uses up my time, of course; don’t eat or drink; I’ve stopped sex;
I don’t get out, I never sleep, I don’t go down the town
At least I get a free supply of cups of tea and Optrex
And snatch a break if ever any system’s going down
Pretty soon I’ll need some help while sorting through the void –
There isn’t any reason now for being unemployed
Imagine, too, how we could soon expand this national scheme
By reading all the tea-leaves that an unwashed cup contains
Or storing all the data from the eerie stuff we dream
When poking through our data storage (those of us with brains)
It’s better if we let our bosses positively vet us
And I’ve revived an old skill – steaming envelopes for letters
Click here to buy Bill’s poetry collection Ringers
Click here to buy Bill’s poetry collection Impossible Objects
