Sonnet #155

‘Zounds, what a tangled web she doth weaveth
When The Bard Julie Taymor doth mangle
A sumptuous cast serves to deceiveth
Taymor’s Tempest without a fresh angle
Mirren’s mad Prospera, witch stead of mage
No stars shine, effects look straight Atari
Taymor’s adaptations, oft quite the rage
Yet for this wasted cast I feel sorry.
Ariel’s an ad for Herbal Essence
Shakespeare ne’er wrote two young lovers worse
Incestuous chess-playin’ adolescents
Masking pointless shambling from verse to verse.
Less Faerie Queene, more A Night At The Opera
Or a DVD by Deepak Chopra