The Rise of Authentic Artists in the Age of Artificial Intelligence

Lately, it feels like artificial intelligence

Is stripping real people of their true essence.

I scroll through my favorite page just to catch a glimpse,

But I’m met with a story—crafted, processed, and rinsed.

It looked so real, yet no person had penned it.

Just lines of code from minds that transcended.

The architects of the future gave Meta a voice,

Now fiction breathes without a human choice.

I logged into Vocal today, couldn’t believe my eyes—

Stories written by machines, no soul in their lines.

They type like us, craft thoughts that might ignite like us,

They jot notes down like us—but no, they’re not quite like us.

No spirit inside, just wires and schemes,

Like Cameron warned us back in his dreams.

Thirty years gone, yet his vision is clear—

Terminator's not fiction; the future is here.

We need less A.I. and more A.A.,

Authentic Artists to tell Skynet, “Not today.”

Think they’re brilliant? I don’t care what they say—

I’ll be shouting Death to A.I., Life to A.A