Disturbed at the thought of AI
Aboard all-seeing drones in the sky?
Letís hope decades ahead
Those opposed to their spread
Wonít find things in white coats asking why.
The Quack of Doom
Lord Juniper, all gin and jitters,
Tried out digital duck-call transmitters
Crouched in reeds by a stream
Where they worked like a dream Ė
He was bagged by a cad who shot sitters.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Jerome Betts would be
pleased to hear them.