Far off and oddly near,
deformity inheres a storm, where
the sanguine slosh of war reigns
a bellicose rain with thunder claps
applause in one-sided prayer cheers,
a dear victory one day at least apt
Power on
power off
power who
Some fishy things are left standing
a shard of a city, a hope façade
Too long the fish have watched
the decrepit peeling walls
from their tank barely maintained, but
the turret tanks have left in retreat
and the rebels have won a day
with a song, a prayer, and a slog
Time to paint the walls for now cheery
those celebration colors on the cheeky walls
where the fishys don’t mind if I move them
now that the power is back on for a slosh
Though soaked in fish water and paint
I can brush victory colors on the wall, and
now finally take my long hot shower, soapy
in soothing melodrama upon the
skin of fantasy and the caress of peace, but
fish can not go back to the tropics
anymore than I could go to the North Pole
to mourn the memories frozen in agony
Poet Laureate of the Primitive Planets 