poetry critical

online poetry workshop

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Welcome to Poetry Critical, an online poetry workshop. To post your own poetry you'll need to create a user id by typing a name and password in the box above and hitting 'New User'. If you just want to critique or jump into the discussion, however, you can go ahead and get started!

Random Poem:

Killing the Dictator (a sestina)

I have a magic infernal string
From which I dangled Mussolini
Over the sharpened puncture-fuzz.
I told Benito: “Curse me all you want,
But I’ll never drop you, in reality.”
Ten seconds later, I dropped that bitch.
Nobody cares about little ol’ super-bitch,
Always making love to her brown string.
A string is a man-whore in refined reality,
Just as a hair can be old Mussolini.
All you got to do is make it long as you want.
But it’s got to be long. Not like fuzz.
Stop snorting fish. You’ll be caught by the fuzz.
Fish gets you high, and the law’s a real bitch
About that. You can snort whatever you want,
Although it gets complicated when you snort string.
But I don’t care if you snort Mussolini,
Fish is forbidden. That’s just reality.
I have a desperate sense of reality.
I looked under the couch and found some fuzz,
Then I remembered and cried about Mussolini.
Then I snorted some fish like the rebellious bitch
That I am. Then I had sex with some string.
I can, but I never, do what I want.
I have a magic infernal want
With which I poked at a fancy reality.
I took it all home on a lasso-tied string
It dragged and set fire to the carpet fuzz.
I told my burning house: “Stop being a bitch.”
It wouldn’t. And neither would Mussolini.
My house was all gone, and undead Mussolini
Took it. But there was nothing to want
Being that it’s all gone. Unless you’re a bitch.
In that case, you’ve altered reality.
Sifting through ashes and black, stinky fuzz,
He found a magic infernal string.
I don’t think anyone would want that string.
Reality’s windows have a superfine fuzz
That bitches like you can’t notice, Mussolini.

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