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768 pages, Paperback
First published July 16, 2013
Witness this army of such mass and charge
Led by a delicate and tender prince,
Whose spirit with divine ambition puff’d
Makes mouths at the invisible event,
Exposing what is mortal and unsure
To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great
Is not to stir without great argument,
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
When honour’s at the stake. How stand I then,
That have a father kill’d, a mother stain’d,
Excitements of my reason and my blood,
And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
That, for a fantasy and trick of fame,
Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Which is not tomb enough and continent
To hide the slain? O, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!
My name is Hamlet, yo, you better check this composition:
Just peeped an awesome army boat that of its own volition
Is led by my man Fortinbras (a man of great ambition)
Who lessens me whenever we’re seen in juxtaposition
And who’s taken for himself this chosen military mission
But also lacks my frankly odd particular condition
Of being told just who to kill by ghostly apparition
And being told to kill a man who by his own admission
Has sent my dear departed regal dad to the mortician
Now Fortinbras goes off to war and just to requisition
Land so sad and barren that any given tactician
Would think him crazy; well, you see that this new proposition
Suggests to me quite clearly my apparent opposition
To this Revenge Your Dad and Kill Your New Dad expedition
When I have motives valid, beyond any inquisition
Is weak and dumb, so I’ve got to end this predisposition
Towards inaction that I have; my stupid inhibition
Must be gotten over fast cuz I got to reposition
Myself to kill my new dad right away. And in addition,
And though I know this carries no small risk of repetition
And saying this out loud will only add to your suspicion
From now on the only things that I will bring into fruition
Are the bloody gory parts of my own personal cognition
That is to say: only thoughts regarding the commission
Of the brutal death of Claudius. No more exposition!