/lit/ - Literature

Here's a poem I wrote. I would really like your opinion on it. Please comment.

Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after, And the poetry he invented was easy to understand; He knew human folly like the back of his hand, And was greatly interested in armies and fleets; When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter, And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

An anarchist walks into a bar, sits down next to a communist.

Just got promoted, the anarchist said.
Oh Yeah? What's your new position?
I'm head of the department.
Wait, what?
I'm head of the department.
I thought you anarchists didn't believe in social hierarchy.
The anarchist laughed. Oh, you! You communists are so cute, thinking that what you believe should match what you do.
The anarchist ordered a flaming sambuca, and accidentally burned his face off.