Oh Stephenie Meyer
On your funeral pyre,
What have you done to the poor vampire?
You’ve capped his fangs,
You’ve staked his heart,
Cut off his head,
Oh, you think you’re smart.
You’ve dwarfed old Drac,
And his werewolf kin,
Oh, pity the day they invited you in.
But Stephenie Meyer
With your financial fire,
I really don’t care that your books are dire,
But by the ghosts of Lugosi,
Langella and Schreck,
We humbly curse
Your royalty cheque.
For you’ve left the vampire
Bankrupt and blutered,
And though Pattinson’s beautiful,
Filed under black humor, black humour, funny poem, humor, humorous verse, humour, literary parody, parody, Stephenie Meyer, Web Poetry, whimsy
I met a guy in makeup in the brightness of the sun,
I said, you’ll be a vampire, then, by name of Pattinson,
He sighed and shrugged his pallid face, alas, my friend, it’s true,
I am the Teenage Vampire, but my name is Bob to you.
I have no cape or coffin, it really makes me sick,
And although I have two gleaming fangs I haven’t got a dick,
They’ve made me PG-rated, it’s a fate quite worse than death,
I just glamour girls with melting looks, it is a waste of breath.
The camera it does love me, it follows like a pup,
While I drink my bottled blood mix, like cocoa from a cup,
So please review my contract and release me from this Hell,
The money’s good but, really, it is career death knell.
Filed under bawdy verse, black humor, black humour, comic verse, Film, funny poem, humor, humorous verse, humour, Love Poem, whimsy
Let us go then, you and I,
To where the remnant copies are stacked up tall and high,
Let us discuss those certain much-neglected tomes,
By lonely authors who pick the bones.
And on the site the fangirls come and go,
Gossiping that Robert Pattinson will play Michelangelo.
Oh, I grow weary, I grow weary,
I eye my number one position leery,
Shall I fall a vote behind?
Do I dare to give five stars?
I hear the lower-rankers whispering in bars.
And as if my lonely life is thrown upon the screen,
A jerky Quick Time rendering of my lost and broken dream,
And as I lift the latest book of literary cordon bleu,
The readers call out, Harriet, please give us your view,
And so my tired fingers stroke the keyboard in my darkened room,
I pen another Amazon review to keep me number one.
Filed under black humour, comic verse, funny poem, humor, humorous verse, humour, literary parody, Nonsense verse, parody, poetry, whimsy
The average publisher’s humour list is like tourists flying coach,
And lacks, perhaps, the subtlety of my more whimsical approach,
And while I fashion poems in the small hours of the night,
A thousand erstwhile humorists conjecture on the variants of shite.
And what with broad-stoke parodies of the latest children’s books,
I fear my humble poems will be left without a look,
So this poet takes his closing bow and exits from the stage,
For he very much regrets that he will never see the page.
Sitting at a high school table, sipping on their Diet Coke,
Was a group of trendy-hair-styled, white-made-up vampiric folk.
Students pass them in the daylight, don’t find them a trifle odd,
While in the dark their rough-trade cousins, polish off a hick-town bod.
Hold the action for a moment, of very dull pubescent love,
Lovers sit there, trading glances, till a villain gets the shove,
Hey there, actors, cries the audience, any action here tonight?
But the actors merely eyeball. After all, it is Twilight.