I have feelings about Mark Zuckerberg and his Facebook company mishandling my data, and I used those feelings to write the following poem:
"We have a responsibility to protect your data, and if we can't then we don't deserve to serve you."— Mark Zuckerberg, 2018
My Data, Myself
You want my data but you can't have my data,
Marcus Zuckerberg, toddler-faced tyrant
of the digital wastes, chief warden of the Face place.
My data belongs to no man, no advertiser,
no sham-Latinate digital operations company
with an evil Etonite and Steve Bannon for a manager.
No staffer can steal my data and use it to win
the presidency. My data hates presidents!
It loathes theft! And it has taken a vow of celibacy.
My data is bold. My data is beautiful. I rub my data
with ointments and oils, lotions and lards.
My data rises up with great skin and a clenched fist
saying, "I belong to the poet Rich Smith,
I am his relationship status! I am his Spotify playlists!
I am his likes, his sexts, and the results of his personality tests!"
My data won't be harvested or marketed, targeted or retargeted.
My data is unbreachable, unteachable, undeletable, but most of all—
my data is free.