This is hopefully a less (obviously) depressing Evil-Overlord sonnet. I need to try and post these a bit more regularly.
O World, I say, behold my great machine! See that your tallest tower is made mine! With this, I'm on the world-controlling scene; With this, you'll see my every plan align. It fires forth, at my command, a ray, Refracted from the brightly-burning sun, Which swiftly finds and easily burns away Whatever I might wish to see undone. I've named my threat; now let my price be known! A million pounds of saffron, silk and gold, An island ruled by me and me alone, A vow to let me, undisturbed, grow old. I know this is a price you'll never pay, But it's distracted you this crucial day.
Jenkins Rising 