Another attempt at building my future canon
of works before my brain begins to atrophy.
Here’s a poem for 2034, written on spec
today!

When the otters took over, back in the day
we said, “how could you treat us that way?”
But in their animal tongue, they had their say
and dang it to heck, convincingly, they got their way!

Now the otters are in charge of the government
and they tell us how to vote and where to pay our rent
and just who is to blame for society’s descent.
Here’s a hint: it ain’t the otters. On that, there’s no dissent.

Yeah the otters are the bosses, and all others are the drones.
We’re the ones who borrow money; they’re the ones who give out loans.
The otters live Easy, we’re working skeletons to the bones.
Any day now they’ll be busting out all of our tombstones.

The otters became Apex back in Twenty Twenty Five
when they convinced us humans better be slaves and alive
that to die beneath the otter heel and so we took a dive
and accepted fate as conquered creatures who sadly thrive.

And so life goes on on Earth in this ruptured sorry state
with a world turned upside down to the current date.
How awful for a human to live through a creature’s fate
If only we had been warned of this before it was too late!

We’ll just have to see if the otters live up to the promise of the poem.
See you in ten years!