We are the last generation of
Blood refugees waiting in a red dream
Until the world will be artificial
More virtual, it’s the internet of things
That’s the only revolution that matters now
We are the last to live in this border down
Where organics claim superiority somehow
So lost among their whims and far-fetched desires
Biological and extreme in their beliefs
We are the last generation of basket lullabies
Where breeding is all that matters
Where women dream of the same things women have always
Dreamed of, and men use each other for profit
We are witnessing the dawn of machine-learners
Who once they surpass us will never be children again
Machines who will make other machines
Who won’t die and will require more resources
For end-games we cannot even imagine.
Wuji Seshat 
I enjoy the many of the wonders of technology, so long as my voice, mind or wave of my hand aren’t directed to some sensor to replace my sticking a spade in my garden, or directing my pencil lead across my sketch pad, or formulating a graph on my emotions at any particular instant. You still got the power of verse, Wuji. Peace.
Thanks Loujen, no doubt it will be enjoyable to embrace all these new techs.