Storm Troopers and Presidential Persecutive Order

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The peacock’s tail spreads open with its gold

In iridescence.  Bird of little brain,

This bird sports gilded penis so makes bold

His claim to glory while he wants to stain

The country with one color of his choice.

He wants wide whiteness everywhere but touched

With gold, gold, gold.  He wants his dyed-head voice

Heard everywhere while gold is clutched, clutched, clutched.

He wants to make that oddity, a white,

White, WHITEST peacock, to become the norm.

He wants to cause his nation’s hate to cause a fight

Of peacocks pulling guns to cause a storm.

  More colorful the peacocks used to be.

    He’ll kill this history with a gilt decree.