A couple of poems on a similar theme. The first is one I wrote about a year ago and have recently rediscovered. It was untitled at the time, and was written as an example of a "huitain".
The second is brand new, and the poetic form is an example of "hymnal measure".
Brain Celeb Surgery
I have a wish - it's not too much.
If I should seem to care who's gay,
If I should buy "Hello!" or such,
If I should start to follow, say
Big Brother, Chelsea, Kyle, André,
Keith Lemon, TOWIE, Dear, what's on?
If I should watch such TV, pray
Commit me, please! My brain has gone.
Remember how it used to be,
those days of years gone by,
when TV before half-past-three
was something for the eye.
No sitcoms shown incessantly,
(less channels anyway)
before unreal “reality”
when good taste still held sway.
No Kyle or Springer to be seen
an audience that mocks
so what was on the TV screen?
The test-card on the box.