My intelligence thinks artificial intelligence
Is such a wonderful oxymoron an even
Cleverer golden calf O Moses
A picture of the machine of ourselves
After we extract all the inspirations
Of those who conceived it
Where did those come from
What we could call genuine
Intelligence that makes things up
Out of nothing but air and desire
After all out of some unknown element
Often present in blood and hard work
Which can only get us so far
Till something comes to stir the water
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