AI: A poem 

If we could simply count all the stars in the sky 

would that be an omen that we will never die? 

Or will we wait impatiently for cures from AI 

and smugly sit on our laptops and never ask why? 

The carpetbaggers spit honey for our morning tea 

But our cups are brimming with the stench of their pee 

The airplanes of promise are only flying above the laden sea 

Always crestfallen are the lands of the poor and hungry 

The world is now a nutshell but arid of honour as a dry well 

Where might is always right and angels of ethics don’t dwell 

It is on the Gemini of justice and truth that the lightning fell 

If heaven is elusive, should we complacently settle for hell? 

Courage is watery, brotherhood is mouldy bread, love is dead 

Greed and power are the spools of the thread of hearts of lead 

Redundant be the sweat and blood when robots make it light 

Will AI get it right or will we still be languishing in the night?