Totalitarian Turd

Trying something new here, after some poetic advice from a friend.

Here we go:


The dove makes love to a

Frozen

Peanut

and…

The

peanut

is in your mind,

The

peanut

is in your mind.

Frozen in time, I

lust for

the dust of

the peanut

inscribed

With to-ta-li-ta-ri-an gi-bber-ish,

Whether if

I be

spoken or

I be

heard.

But no one wants to limit their

de-ci-sion

With a frank

a-ccu-sa-tion that

appalls

When the dust does

settle

When the leaves

do fall.


What was the advice my friend gave me? PAY ATTENTION TO RHYTHM AND RHYME! Also I just intend to beef up my editing of poems from now on instead of slapping them onto the blog or my family or wherever instantaneously.

Let me know if this piece works, and what could be better about it.

Thanks!

-varjak (baby)

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