Propaganda is loved
by sycophants and thugs.
Venom helps them thrive,
without it they would die.
Money buys big hair
when there’s nothing much up there.
Dimes and nickels wind up
a torn-up heart disrupting
blood flow –
extremities are numb.
The president of the Nazis
is not the one for me,
as I am likely to get punched
and breath will take its leave.
The language of the Reich
is the language of despair
of all who breath
the air. Dirt of clay or sand or
loam, no prevailing of
the language of misuse.
Mouth honor mouthpiece
as foxy as can be,
slip and slide through adjectives,
meander around facts,
as you please.
Perspectives are quite nimble,
like Korbut on the bar,
but one false move and
boom! The fall will rob you
of your happy lot.
This closed white neighborhood,
is a symbol of the past.
It is not the mark of greatness,
this language will not outlast
the pendulum of time
which erases every line
that honors the cruel,
repeating their lies.
Someday we will remember
to be kind, to be kind.
Anne's mediocre poetry 