Fuckerberg’s Evil Ways

They said it was just an app,
just a scroll, just a post, just a “like”—
but behind the glow of blue light
was a marketplace built in the dark.
With deeds of evil white men hidden in plain spaces.
Where Fuckerberg rated, assaulted,
and digitally trafficked college girls on his blue book of faces.
Our babies are on his apps and its fucking disgraceful.

An intelligence expo with no stage lights,
no tickets, no applause—
just quiet transactions,
crooked white smiles
dirty hands shakes, and quietly ignored infractions,
Black lives packaged as data points,
sold to badges and guns.

Geofeedia whispered in boardrooms,
“We can track the Ferguson situation,”
like grief was a coordinate,
like pain had GPS.
They watched us march,
turned chants into code,
turned resistance into “threat assessment.”

Freddie Gray’s name echoed in Baltimore,
but somewhere else—
a CEO bragged in emails
about staying “one step ahead of rioters,”
as if justice itself
was something to outrun.

Then came Dataminr,
dressed in artificial intelligence,
but powered by human bias—
eyes trained to see danger
in melanin,
ears tuned to hear threat
in protest songs.

Tweets became surveillance,
hashtags became handcuffs,
movements mapped in real time
for those sworn to “protect.”

And they called it public data.
Said it was fair game.
Said no warrant was needed
when freedom could be bought
with a credit card.

The Fourth Amendment
slipped quietly through a loophole,
while the First
was rebranded as intelligence.

They built a digital panopticon—
but we know its true name:
the Black Opticon—
where we are always seen,
always tracked,
always suspect.

And somewhere in Silicon Valley,
a man in a hoodie
counts profit
while communities count losses.

This is not connection.
This is extraction.
This is not innovation.
This is surveillance dressed as progress.

Fuckerberg’s evil ways—
coded in algorithms,
hidden in terms of service,
whispering:

“You are the product.”

But we are more than data.
More than patterns.
More than predictions.

We are signal.
We are spirit.
We are not for sale.