Yet another poetic takedown of AI on all affronts…
Bigger is Bettor – Owed to the Equation of AI Slop Times Everything Ails
“Every won poops, accept AI.”
It turned out
That they whir
Be dazzled
Buy bigger is bettor
The human raze
Is awe in
Wading for salvation
From the con fines
Of the human mine
Mine, mine!
Race, race, race!
Sects, sects, sects!
And madders of the human heart
Holed in the mettle of data centers
Drowning in the soul solution
Too ill defined
Plights of fancy
The bind leading the bind
As if know a
Weigh given to save the whirled
Too buy too
On an existential arc
Soully to find ourselves
Stuck on a bout
Unable to get off
Firmly helled by won stale mate
After another
Ass the future
Is behind us
And unlike AI
Everyone oops
In culpable to clean up
That witch is overdo
For ever more
De-ported
In habiting the back wards
Err it is
Too late
Living without heir
We won’t be
Food agin
Abut too know a veil
Halving apprehended
Hour lessen
Soully left
Too ponder us
Weather fucked
As unfucking believable
