Villanelle of the Lie Machine

The lie machine spreads vicious memes
through Facebook’s anxious timelines.
In hatred’s sweet extreme,

behind the scenes, its writers scheme
disseminating landmines.
The lie machine spreads rousing memes.

Masses of memes flood media streams,
falsely polished to lure and shine
in hatred’s sweet extreme.

Beneath the stream, trolls wait to scream.
Dissension is their concubine.
The lie machine spreads reams of memes

to fertilize its party’s dreams
where fear and anger twixt and twine
in hatred’s sweet extreme.

Cleaving words from fact, it gleams.
Laugh lines crease its faces.
The lie machine spreads gleeful memes
in hatred’s sweet extreme.

Brenda Warren 2015


Villanelle’s Ache

A hidden ache enunciates her sway
as broken bridges sink beneath her gaze.
She gathers words within a public bray,

some purloined bones to read another day.
She mends them into limbs amid the lace.
An open ache enunciates her sway,

it sings out sounds with all she does not say.
She strives to hide the phonemes she’s displaced.
Her stitches filter out the public bray

as mending meaning takes her ache away.
She waltzes secret stories under lace
like water whirling rhythm through her sway.

Embroidering the words her heart betrays,
she craves release from graphemes’ sharp embrace,
and hides again beneath the public bray.

Sometimes her needle stitches up the day,
arranging messy words she can’t displace.
A hidden ache enunciates her sway
and keeps her secrets from the public bray.

Brenda Warren 2014


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