By Thomas Mhando
They say AI will take my place,
Will write this poem, run this race.
It may outthink me, that is true—
But it can’t find my missing shoe.
It still can’t fry a decent egg.
I asked it once to draft my will,
It gave my cat a house on a hill.
“Be efficient,” I told the bot,
It printed memes and asked “So what?”
I’m not impressed, just mildly scared.
At work, they fear the robot rise,
But I’ve seen bots with cross-eyed eyes.
It booked me two flights to Peru,
When I just said, “Remind me: stew.”
And still they call this future bright?
It wrote my bio on its own,
“Lives in a cloud and eats a phone.”
It called me Steve and typed in verse,
My resume could not be worse.
Thanks AI, you cyber clown.
So let it come, our techno king,
With metal brains and buzz and bling.
But I will rule one ancient trade—
How to fix a leaking blade.
AI can’t plumb or swat a fly.
