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Very Artificial Poetry #7

Poetry about artificial intelligence

I am not sure this is what we rehearsed for.
Floor is filled with riot shields and dirt.
Identification. Like a bad thriller. No thrills.
Only the chill of one kid standing still.
As the smoke dissipates so does the hate.
At least for a while, above.
Purgatory one priest said, claiming heaven over hell.
Hell no, nosebleed dripping on tarmac.
Black. White. Black.
Alert strips.
Drone.

Written by

AI Policy and Ethics at www.nora.ai. Student at University of Copenhagen MSc in Social Data Science. All views are my own. twitter.com/AlexMoltzau

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