Rockstar - A Sonnet

This is a sonnet to rockstar poets

Who bashed out a verse with trashed up nerves

Crushed by their tangle with cutie lovelets

Just goes to show you what love sometimes serves

Not the quintessential cupid struck nerds

Who drum up a thought out cerebral verse

These hedonistic psychos - naught reserves

Sadly, dear buggers, end up hoarse or worse

Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, with the said curse

Are examples of these shining comets

They live from mouth to purse and the reverse

Their pri-or-ity is always the hits

It's not very rockstar to write like this

'cept I've been up all night - should I be pissed?

07.09.10