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.He takes a snap with every bite,
His coffee foam must look just right.
He’ll tilt his head and fix his hair,
Then post “No filter!” – yeah, like fair.
The caption reads: “Just being me.”
She pouts in gowns she doesn’t use,
A filter hides the signs of snooze,
Behind the glam is moldy toast,
But online she’s a wellness ghost.
Ten likes, and she feels royalty.
They pose with meals they never eat,
Then order chips from down the street.
“Living clean,” they hashtag loud,
While drinking soda in a shroud.
It’s sugar with a green-screen glow.
The selfie game’s a daily war,
With ring lights brighter than before.
No longer real, just cropped delight,
With skin so smooth, it’s nearly white.
Their real selves cry off-camera.
And yet we scroll, and like, and cheer,
For filters, lies, and plastic fear.
We chase the perfect lighting zone,
While life walks past, unknown, alone.
All for that shot – pixel throne.
DIGITAL PROPHET
