His heart sinks to his boots
at the mountian of work that suits -
much are rejectable at first glance -
but some needs a second glance.
The majority is best described as 'fortnight tea'.
Getting to grips with diffent registers,
varied poetic voices and levels of growth,
make for a couldron of flavours
catering for differnent tastes -
editors are expected to wear many hats.
This is before rhyme can be checked -
mistakes are argued away as poetic licence -
and getting to grips with dialect
and varied stressed syllables ...
This is just scratching the surface.
AI can be helpful - up to a point:
It does not 'get' idiom and many metaphor
which the more seasoned poet employs.
Poetry is a living, breathing medium -
it can't be difined by an algorithm.
Tell me masters of cringe
Should we suffer so long
Practising what you preach
Can’t you make it alone?
That will be fair enough
If you do what you say
Never mind a good laugh
You’re a joke anyway
You’re the masters of cringe
And you never retire
Your warlords on a binge
Setting buildings on fire
People want you to die
But the God says oh no
I don’t want these old guys
Strutting out at my show
They are devil’s concern
But the Devil says nay
They’re too stinky to burn
I shall kick them away
Back to where they belong
To that muddy old soil
Where they’ll drown all alone
In the puddle of oil.
“Thou shalt have no other
Gods besides the State” A la
Holy Ghost of Marx
(9/23/26)
Romance To The Feeble-Minded
A sweetheart loved by every troop,
From distant lands, outside his group.
A decade’s bond, a quiet joy,
She bore his love a first-born boy.
Then fortune turned; he took the throne,
And wore a crown of steel and stone.
The state caught fire, the borders bled,
A butcher born, where mercy fled.
He turned his guns on her own race,
And wiped her memory from his face.
Severed the ties, forgot the child,
As war ran bloodthirsty and wild.
Ten years he ruled in blind deceit,
While terror marched upon the street.
An army wild he couldn't tame,
Three years of mayhem in his name.
His eldest son, a stranger grown
Unrecognized, ignored, unknown.
For eight and forty years of dread,
The general hid from son, his coward’s head.
No vision held, no focus clear,
A feeble mind led on by fear.
Too late the waking conscience stings;
Too late the courage power brings.
Unstable man, blind or visionless
Conscience- dead, tasteless and emotionless
Led his army into unnecessary blood bath
Even in his nineties, continued lying as from the birth
Ionesco Rhinoceros still occupies
The stage that is offered so kindly
So there he is, with his weak sighted eyes
Staring at me rather blindly
Don’t worry my dear, soon we’ll be forbidden
I belong to the countless minority
My act in your play was so poorly written
You need others to feed your authority
This civilization, where everyone’s lost
Blamed for inappropriate views
Clashes with me, cause I’m paying my cost
Only for things that I use
I don’t make excuses, I always agree
With slander and hatred I get
I'm taking for granted their thoughts about me
It’s cheaper than arguing all that
May your Rhino restrictions be harder than ever
All satires of the past become real
I find myself punished through trial and error
Empirically off the deal
Red geranium leaves by my doorstep I see
The winds from Atlantic blow cold
The Rhinoceros people jog on around me
It seems that they never get old..
From the minarets the call to prayer resounds
Breaking the peaceful silence of the dawn
In its undulation of fervent fanatical need
And all across the world the daily call spreads
Making non-believers at least tolerant
Of the mysterious words and haunting refrain
Lulled into acceptance as by a snake charmer
Women too now rising up
In the name of liberation
Fervently fanatical in the need
To have it their way,
From conception to abortion and infanticide
To now the freedom to filicide,
Have it their way
A brave new Burger Queen world
Without compromise or sacrifice
For the only job they were born to do.
Meanwhile the minaret keeps up its call
Loudly proclaiming to the faithful
Ignorant and deluded,
And increasingly deserving,
“Make Misogyny Great Again”.
(9/13/26)
I never thought that I would say this out loud
but the quality of AI-poetry
has unexpectedly taken a turn for the worse
where are the days when it regurgitated
plagiarised phrases?
where are the days when it made gallant efforts
to emulate Suzette Prime?
I guess that it hinges on which programme one uses
I never thought that I would say this at all
but clankers have hallucinated themselves into irrelevance
I think the language of dating tends to be intentionally overeducated, because modern romance often requires forensic attention to fragments: eye movements, direct response or response delay and strategic silence.
The term ‘boyfriend’ is a deliberate allocation of trust.
Though we kiss for control with charming nonchalance,
it’s gritty and everyday, not decorative companionship.
He’s seen my worst screenshots
On another note..
I love staying up late at morning
I have vampire tendencies
that’s my frequency
Should I start to turn in earlier
or wait for school to begin
I’m that kind of worrier
that’s the way my world spins
.
.
A song for this:
Deny by La Sécurité
Equality as an actual state of being
Only exists in the mathematical realm
A fact of quantity not quality.
No actual thing can ever equal another,
Simply because they occupy different time
And space, weight, mass and every other condition.
Not even one potato equals another.
So how could different people, sexes, races,
Tribes, nations, religions and cultures be equal?
But equality certainly exists
Outside mathematics,
But only as an ideal.
A god we are told to believe in,
Worship and aspire to become
Not as an is, but simply an ought.
(9/8/26)
We call it adult humor
Dressed like late night intellect
But the joke is just a cheap dare
We clap like it’s profound
We claim it’s edgy commentary
Wrapped in clever phrasing
But it’s really playground bravado
Posing as sophistication
We say it’s mature wit
Served with craft beer confidence
But it’s just petty mischief
Wearing a grown up voice
We insist it’s highbrow comedy
Sold as cultural insight
But it’s thin skinned teasing
Masquerading as satire
We pretend we’ve evolved past childishness
Framing jokes as worldly wisdom
But the truth is embarrassingly simple
We never stopped laughing at the easy stuff
Beyond the holy light
Of the great god Empathy now enshrined
There is its daily due
In offerings of flesh and blood.
What was once simply a way to relate to others
A way to feel and understand
The pack and herd,
Has become instead a way to sacrifice.
A way to show in extreme
How good we are, how faithful,
How willing to take up the suicidal vest
To offer our unworthy selves to vague humanity.
(9/6/26)
Social guillotine
By Dustin Branum
9/03/26
Acceptance is dire,
I let this be known.
My only desire
was to feel I belong.
The empty will devour
everything I own.
Knowledge acquired,
the tongue is unknown.
Interpreter required
to speak the untold.
Silence gets louder,
the darkness gets brighter.
My Destiny expired,
no longer headstrong.
All hope is gone,
decaying empire.
No king for the throne,
no skull for the crown,
no cheers from the crowd.
No acceptance required,
no longer desire
your approvable satire.
Truth, a 5 letter word
should have more emphasis
than the 4 letter words
now having gained favor
in our language – children
use them freely, example
set by parents. F this and
F that...F n good grade son,
daughter. Don’t be late
for F n school. Listen to
what the F n priest says,
He knows F n Best. God
only has 3...fearing soon
another acceptable 4th --
I know, F this preachy write,
just more of the F n worthless
Same! I can see the next
new bible translation: Paul
accidentally spilled
the sacrament wine, and
Christ was F n irate....
I feel so good.
Finally I live in a world
Where crazy is accepted
As the norm.
A mom who strangles
Her three babies
Likely will walk free
Which means it’s open season
For every psychopath
Who wants to rape and murder
Anyone they please.
After all it’s up to us
To control ourselves
But if and when we can’t,
Oh well.
I feel so good
To finally live in a world
I can relate to.
It’s almost like being free.
(9/2/26)
elaboration in twelfthtide proposition
was likely cataclysmic
literatim !
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 31–September 6, 2026)
Satire Categories
Definition | What is Satire in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
caricature, mockery, sarcasm, irony, skit, wit, spoof, banter, parody, burlesque, lampoon, travesty, takeoff, witticism, put on, raillery, persiflage, pasquinade, causticity, lampoonery, squib, chaffing, play on, send up,