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Elegy on The Bard

If Shakespeare had been born in ‘83
In Parramatta or Bankstown; not Stratford ‘pon Avon
We’d call him Ill Will and we’d be bobbin’ our heads
To the beats and the rhymes and white boy thoroughbreds

Fatima is drinking her sleeping potion
A secret lover, awaits; a family undone
But Judah is fooled by a cleric and a mother
His story untold. Death in Gaza, what’s another?

Frankenpenis Bobbit had a hard-core wife
Her hands, blood dripping; a moment won
Her domestic coward, he’s her tabloid star
Got crucified, porno-phied. He’s drivin’ big black cars.

The fairies and queens on Oxford Street
Take a pill and dance; a boy called Bottom.
Monday waking from a Saturday dream
A suit, silk tie, just another dude on the team.

words: Kristen Hodges


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