A Selection of #Sonnets

 

Kim Kardashian

When I beheld upon my laptop screen

The best and brightest of our earthly stars

As cover girl of Paper magazine

With gloves and pearls and glist’ning, global arse

Then did my heart with foreign feelings flare

For little had I known erotic passion

Ere I had glimpsed thy shining derriere

And learned thy gilded name, O Kim Kardashian!

But soon my soul did grieve, for I did think

Of how thy form enpixelled might remain

That, IRL, my lips might never drink

A glass of thy butt-balancèd champagne

I need thee, Kim, so prithee do not let

My heart be broken like the internet!

 

Netflix

How I do thrill at thy great panoply!

Thine endless content doth my heart content

Ne'er do I grudge thy small subscription fee

Much less the countless hours on thee spent

For when I would my thirsting laptop slake

Assemblest thou the songs of sundry bards

One eve I shall of Stranger Things partake

The next of Narcos, Love or House of Cards

Alas, at times thy wares are so arousing

I cannot choose, and, vainly scrolling on,

I waste my day a thousand programmes browsing

And lose the chance to watch a single one

Man's heart, though lacking naught, still wanteth more 

And thus a wealth of choice doth make us poor.

 

Snoop Dogg

Let others laud their Tupacs and their Ices

Both Cube and T, their Biggies and their Dre-s

Thou art more cool, thou rap game Dionysus

Enshrouded in thy weed-cloud's shimm’ring haze

Fain would I share a gin and juice with thee

While thou recount’st thy great and pimpish deeds

Then proudly toast the D-O-double-G

My blunt bereft of stems or sticks or seeds!

O, heed not thou those wack, allergic churls

Who call thee old, or by thy chronic marred

Or say thy verse on “California Gurls"

Doth mean thou art from O.G. status barred

For while the critics chide and haters grizzle

Thou Snoop remain’st, the big boss Dogg, for shizzle.

 

Tinder

My heart aflame, I swipe with finger deft

The myriad nymphs who dance before my sight

And for each one I banish to the left

My horniness doth hurl a thousand right

I feel myself a Roman emperor

Whose twitching thumb commands the fatal strike

Shall this new girl feel my contempt for her

Or else be humbled by my super like?

Then I despair, perceiving what the catch is:

My profile pic these girls approveth not

And soon enough my few enticing matches

Reveal themselves a false and thieving bot

Then do I pity those I leftward nudged

For as one judges must oneself be judged.

 

Marge Simpson

O yellow maiden, whose bewitching growl

And tow’ring tresses, steeped in cobalt blue

Do cause mine ever-loving heart to howl

Why stayest thou to hopeless Homer true?

Thou jewel of Springfield, if thou wilt eshew

My heart, still other hearts feel thine allure:

Thou couldst have Flanders, Duffman, Moe, Apu

Professor Frink, or even Troy McClure

Why dost thou not that doughy fool disown?

I know thou holdst his offspring in thy heart

But I would suffer Lisa’s saxophone

And, though much vexed, would never strangle Bart

For, being denied thy love, my poor soul withers

Thou art my Mr Burns, my heart thy Smithers.

 

Erectile Dysfunction

“O burning shame! O anguish unsurpassèd!

Vile snout! Thine insolence my soul abhors

When I most needful am, still thou remainest flaccid

Wilt thou not stand for Aphrodite’s cause?

A thirsting maiden lies within my bed

Whilst I in bathroom’s cell am cruelly pent

I stroke, cajole and strike thy languid head

Yet thou discloseth not thy least extent

But sullen hangeth. Am I not thy friend?

Have I not lavished thee with tenderness?

Do I not to thine ev’ry whim attend?

So why betray me? Come, thou knave, confess!”

My peen replies: “Alas, I should be soon erected

Hadst thou, O fool, that seventh pint rejected”.