Forthforth Poem by Zyw Zywa

He has no rest, he has to
think ahead all the time
because politics is war

trade is war
and war is trade
if you just think ahead

and don't stay at home
to enjoy what you have
until you suddenly lose it

He is a man, he has to
succeed, spinning around
like a bullet he drills himself forth

against the current through
the wavy bed of narrow channels
with sticky banks, he has to

be the winning sperm
he laughs himself strong
he has dogs that bite