A Selection of #Sonnets
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
“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”.