poem/vanyukov/satire

. Putin That’s, I’m sure, a vampire: Gnaws on bones, bloody-lipped. —A. S. Pushkin. “Vurdalak,” Songs of Western Slavs (Это, верно, кости гложет Красногубый вурдалак. —А. С.  Пушкин. “Вурдалак”, Песни западных славян) What’s in the mirror that you see? No bloody fangs, which would be fitting: you feed on corpses of your victims. You make them...

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poem/bryant/satire

. Target If you’re too young to take a marriage vow, Stuck at an awkward age that won’t allow A dizzy dose of liquor-laden brew Or puffs of buzzy stuff… just one or two--- __Target beckons you---right now! If you’re too juvenile to drive a car, Too green to party at the bluest bar, Too innocent to fight a gory war, Too ignorant to know what’s...

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