Dead hands of foam lead me to
The stasis that is extinction of human life
Black sweet blood mouthfuls
Of the Cities we built, machines we taught
Like many species we
Drove evolution into oblivion
Becoming Gods of profit
For feeble hours, substanceless blue
Aware of short-term projects
Suicidal, reckless, individualistic
Ritualistically aggressive
Men sought to exploit other men
Women sought to breed and secure genes
It wasn’t the kind of civilization
That I imagined could survive indefinitely
We were the lowest common
Denominator of greed, fit for brief empires
Dead hands of foam lead me to the
Cloning stations, where I will get
A new body, because I’m of the elite
Last in a hierarchy of mortals.
Wuji Seshat 
This poem is awesome, especially the ending. Wow!
Yes it’s a bit sci-fi with a humanitarian twist.
Right up my alley. Great stuff.