Best Surveillance Poems
Warning: Video Surveillance in Use
By Elton Camp
Those fuzzy, unfocused videos of crime
To identify robbers aren’t worth a dime
Their low quality images are the excuse
Why, to catch crooks, they’re of little use
They show vague shapes moving about
That they have much value I surely doubt
The images they give are poor, not even fair
All I can tell is that it’s a man, not a bear
Far better technology most surely does exist
But it’s something high risk stores did miss
Therefore, video camera use at the corner store
Won’t stop any robber coming back for more
So little stores might as well take the sign down
It makes a crook laugh when he comes around
And so a mask he doesn’t even both to wear
Although he knows that the camera is there
I inspect him,
a sweetheart specimen
in a cage.
Fluffy like winter snow.
Squeaking in tempo.
In a cage.
Critically
he secretly watches me.
A wave of dread seeps into my head when I scroll through
my phone instead
of studying.
He monitors me in captivity.
Crazy cute and certainly not mute, Marshmallow the
Guinea pig squeals to demand a cold crunchy carrot.
Feisty while foraging through the vegetable garden, Marshmallow
the guinea pig has more to say than a cockatoo parrot.
Jolts of excitement race inside his fun-sized body.
In a cage.
Critically
lurking.
If I pick my nose, he knows.
Under his mustache smirking.
His squeak sounds meek
but
if he could talk fur - real, I’d undergo
an ordeal
if my secrets he chose to reveal.
A puff of fluff that I cuddle when life gets rough.
He popcorns and plays while I spend my days
in lectures on Zoom.
Marshmallow knows
I hate being alone
in a room.
In a cage.
Critically
I need him.
I walk a rope that hangs in air,
It moves with rules I do not see.
Each step I take feels watched, not free,
And I forget who I used to be.
The rope is soft yet too tight and pulls me back,
Like Kind Hands hiding quiet chains.
It bends around but doesn’t break,
And leads me through the same old lanes.
I feel the pull from sides unknown,
Not just by you, or even me.
Some hands I never see or name
Still change the shape beneath my feet.
I walk like water in a glass,
Shaking with fear I cannot speak.
If I fall, is that called freedom?
Or just another circle made?
The rope still turns but never ends,
And still I walk though truth is blurred.
Still I walk, though the knot is hidden,
And the wind keeps shaking, blurring what I see.
They keep watching
Forever observing
Constantly snooping
As the public keeps on fuming
For our safety we are watched constantly
Electronic eyes unable to account
For the nuances of human behaviour
Infiltrate all aspects of living
Criminalizing us
Laying bare all our sins
Intrusive watchmen abound
Debasing all ideas of privacy
Our misdemeanours forever present in cyberspace
We can never repent nor forget
What should be hidden and laid to rest
Our liberty is easily seduced from us
With the promise of big brother's
Constant all seeing
And comforting eyes
His broad shoulders will forever
Protect us from the ghost of an unknown future
All this is just a palaver
The all intrusive camera on every street
Replaces the curtain twitching busy bodies
Of yesterday
We are always naked
Baring all to a hidden authoritarian
Who wants to eat away at our soul
The value of protection today
Is a necessary cost ever present in our mind-set
We must have no peace in these turbulent times
The attraction of emotional safety
Trumps petty squabbles over rights
Fear of terrorism
Results in ego trips from those in authority
Them who wish to bolster their popularity
By smothering us with hysterical flam
That we so gratefully believe
Anxiety rules the day
And will always keep common sense at bay
No one wants to loudly stand up and say
Please stop looking and go the hell away
A totalitarian philosophy permeates authority
The aim is to control every aspect of living
They are forever craving servitude
From us who think their intrusion is so rude
Being watched and analysed
Does not only happen in a totalitarian state
Everywhere you go liberty
Is at stake
Who will save us from this disgrace?
i need to stop frowning and epitomizing
and sell this Caddy to the Cardinal
trying to let it miss your attention won't fly
since writing is speech even if somewhat removed
or fit only for bouncy news anchor banter
pancake makeup a bit too aflame
like they do in shadow theater
where the container is the contained
because we can still index the cornucopia
eff you said the furry little May Pole Bunny
you can be sure he was in on it too
along with the Hen in the Willow
the Great Flaming Spiral in the Sky
and the nuns of St. Manacle
doing their Plantation Rebel Dance
with cascade of equally herkimer antecedents
perpetually enthused with the mystery of tomorrow
just don't try to tell me how to move my eyelids
smoke signals will always take care of that
cascading across the clacking copper contacts
in a total lack of continuity all at once
it is a pigeon tongue spoken in barter
barely able to walk after the derision of linguists
lobbed horseshoes across the barricades
against surgeons wielding kitchen knives
on a search and destroy mission
for chopped liver epicures from the Bank of Winter
living dead men's dreams was no picnic
memes eating my soul like red worms
only my degree from the School for the Sickly
standing between me and the Necromancers
who were emphatically not house trained
my collective unconscious operation manual
tossed on the burn pile half a life ago
now dumbed down to syntactically correct
in infinitesimal quantities with a Nefertiti smile
my mind a bordello of interpretation
God is not dead he is passe etc.
a raised by wolves feral non-conformist
everything orbits everything else
and that's space for you
which will bend yer crank kid
unless you can get your mood to swing
out from the nether realms of mourning
and the agony of oblique signals
written with the ***** of Satan
shaking money from your pockets again
a Conniving Backstabbing Bastard production
he hated coercion like he hated licorice
he was revolution incarnate all fresh and rosy
it was a kosher Pentecost event
tried quoting Lenin but it was too easy
the proletariat is people in a pickle
the dueling cucumbers of class warfare
now I'm on a dozen watch lists
followed by Diana's paparazzi
to this claustrophobic cinemaplex
and its temporal artery of light
at 3 in the afternoon
a good cheap remedy
following a bad diagnosis
Some old movie plots
can't happen now, with changes
in technology...
You know, in a movie
when someone texts everyone
at school by* mistake*?
Who has *EVERYONE*
at school on their contacts list?
No way that happens.
Parent-less parties
where scores show up - with modern
*surveillance systems*?
or ditching class, heck
my parents are texted my
quiz scores real-time.
"why'd you get an 88
on that Calculus test, I
thought you studied?" Argh!
The algorithms are at work today
Gathering information of what you do or say
Google and Facebook work away
Gathering data about you in every way
If you jay walk or use your phone in the car
A photo of you will be taken from afar
And before you go home tonight
A fine will be emailed to you when the match is right
So Alexia at home will talk to you
Putting on your lights and music too
And she will know you like no other
More about you than your own mother
And think about Orwell’s 1984 novel
Has come with Artificial Intelligence gavel
When a government through the information gathering
May consider re-education centres for mind altering.
© Paul Warren Poetry
I saw Bill Boniface
With a matching bony face
That could make one do a race
To disappear without trace!
Boniface womanizer:
Vocation, vulcanizer …
And women check profession!
Against future Recession;
Also, Facial Appearance
For Bed-Time Love Surveillance …
So, Boniface, where are we?
Whatever I say agree:
Faultless Plastic Surgery
To contain The Mockery …
And Goodbye to god Vulcan,
Because you know that you can!
("Untitled", aka "The Crawling Eye", 2018, original encaustic)
Paranoid Eyes
We live in the old part of town
Where the walls have ears
And the dark, eyes
We have learned to watch
What we say and do
Until mere husks remain
Of former selves
But we are proud
To live in such a world
Where inside is out
And out knows what is in
Where age-old atavistic fears
Have been projected
Into technological feats
We even like
That our phones know
What we want to buy
Before we do
The iron fist of the surveillance state
Now just a velvet glove
On a limp consumer wrist
At least we have our dreams
The place where all lights shine,
And all eyes turn, on us
The land before time
Within the prison of our minds
Secure that we, while endlessly watching,
Are at least the only ones
(10/17/23)
All around campus there are these little black balls, like hanging
alien eggs. Glossy, obsidian bubbles concealing cameras that
record time-stamped, audio and hi-def video.
Could this surveillance footage ever be sent to parents?
*Imagining letters sent to parents about campus/dorm surveillance*
Dear Mr & Mrs Vionet, we have observed countless kisses,
disheveled morning walks and late night visits which indicate
that your daughter is a scandalous little wh0re. We just wanted you
to know, in case you want to know more. As campus security it’s part
of our business to keep a full, digital record, detailing her sluttines$s.
Your friends in campus security.
P.S.
Would you care to donate to the University endowment fund?
I’m over Siri-ous,
I’m over-charging,
My screen time is up,
I watched at p0rn again,
My audio volumes are up,
I’m searching stupid things,
I’m not closing all my circles,
I haven’t walked long enough,
I don’t stand at all the right times,
I may be an online shopping junkie,
I’m spending too much time on Tiktok,
My heart jumps around the wrong guys,
I’m looking at bright screens late at night,
I’m getting too many calories from cocktails,
I’m not taking full advantage of my subscriptions,
I need to upgrade my hardware, software and my attitude.
When you get a FISA Warrant/
For electronic surveillance/
From psychic spies with/
Mind Control with psionic/
And radionic technology/
They first attack you with/
Voice to skull technology/
Which is voices in your head/
Their first objective is to make you/
Appear as a schizophrenic/
Medications will only amplify/
The effects of that technology/
You know you're not schizophrenic/
You know you're a victim/
Of that program because/
You somehow got a FISA Warrant/
For this electronic surveillance/
Nobody will ever believe you/
The voices can drive you mad/
There's nothing you can do/
Because those spies/
Are that sadistic/
Your destruction is their objective/
Nothing you can do about it/
Just stand your ground/
Strength and Patience/
Will get you through it/
It infinge on your rights/
Against the torture prevention act/
This may be the/
Land of the free/
But this stuff exists/
And it's beyond sadistic/
The era of mass surveillance
Is upon us
1984 prophecies fulfilled
But so many more big brothers
Watching us everywhere
The eyes in the sky monitor us
24/7 no one can escape the police state.
I learned, this morning, that my Grandmère’s tiny,
designer tote is a ferriday bag.
Mary, Mary, are you worried?
What does your browser know?
Your clicks, your likes
your secret midnight swipes,
are those things others should know?
What about the things you buy,
the posts you read, your favorite feeds,
the secrets you type, then backspace zap,
are tracked, like the buttons you tap.
Your ephemeral searches, the links you try,
uneraseable, without the reasons why.
It stores your trail, reads your mail,
with ever watchful digital eyes.
Mary, Mary, have a cookie.
What does your cell phone track?
The trips you plan, the maps you scan,
your location with accuracy GPS,
friends you text, the songs you select.
The news you read for ‘free,’
the streams you prefer to see.
Our gadgets know our rhythms
and feed the hungry algorithms
which sell our interests bit by bit,
and tweak the clever, coded rules
that predictively model your moves
before they’re consciously known to you
pushing that valeable data to Internet databases.
Mary, Mary, quite uneasy, what do your gadgets do?
they connect you to the world and the world to you,
They tease and seduce you but they also pimp you.
Those apps - with your permission - watch and listen
to things you say, people you know and places you go.
.
.
Songs for this:
Cookie by NewJeans
Private Eyes - the bird and the bee
ferriday bags - block WiFi, Bluetooth, cellular, and RFID
Agents against 'Woke'
ban, monitor
revise, exclude
like
'Natives' intruded
like
ships didn't deliver slaves
like
Anne Frank didn’t journal
like
separate was equal
like
history was meant to be revised
like
they want to see it.