31st March 2014

Sonnet 118


Self denial's not our style, we're not keen

To deny our pallat's their every urge,

Fat squeezing internal organs unseen,

Once a year it's kind of it's for Lent purge .

Sicker getting sicker of corn syrup's ranke sweetnesse -

We use dietary aids to frame our feeding,

All my pals on the 5:2 seek meetnesse,*

Twice per week the starvation  we're all needing.

Obesity - could we anticipate

How sweets for our sweet made Type 2 assured?

We got fat on a cash starved nanny state,

She taught us greed was good - that can't be cured.

    We are how much we eat, it's the new true,

     Keep consuming consumers: it's all you.


*propriety


Sonnet 119

It won't take five fingers to count the tears

You've spilt for me - when Doc Voddy's within

The gold harp chants old diehards' hopes and fears:

Whyohwhyohwhy won't Hibs ever win?*

Off the ball fouls cynically committed,

Not on home turf you swear no not never,

But since you got that smartphone it's fitted

To your eye for pay-per-view porn fever.

It's a game of two halves, false and true,

You cheat, I capitulate; it's better

To play on than learn love's ground rules anew:

0 - 0 draws leave neither of us greater.

You're relieved I've taken you back - content.

That rubber you bounced back on's limp - spent.


*Hibernian FC last won the Scottish Cup in 1902