Now, sir, young Fortinbras, Of unimproved mettle hot and full, Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there Sharked up a list of lawless resolutes For food an diet to some enterprise That hath a stomach in’t; which is no other, As it doth well appear unto our state, But to recover of us by strong hand And terms compulsatory those foresaid lands So by his father lost.

A man hungry for glory
Full of ambition and hot air
But starving.
He sharks up things to feed himself
Consuming whatever is before him
Indiscriminate and determined
Moving ever forward
Like a great white
And is it an accident that this insatiable shark
Has his hand up the skirt of a nation?


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