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Mouth Piece Dec 2013
You were a glutinous 24 feasting on my anxiety and confusion. Where Art thou?! Where art thou!? I yelled begging for the pebble to hit my bed side. My sweat pondered so quiet due to the wheels from the warden. A drip sparked the alarm…. the I-V signals to move my hopes to the Montague. Fresh gown and a half bath slightly disheveled and lightly shaking…. a white cape..... a deep breath and a few beats marked his prestige. It felt so right until night..... when his words cycled out with the shift. How could I betray my Love for a moment’s hope of the Montague!! I knew better but only when I was better but now worse and how quickly my mind reversed. OOO Romeo OOO Romeo where art thou my Romeo! Behind your pride and obstructed by your fear… what I-V were you dripping? Didn’t even remember to grasp the brown spine? AHH the top drawer... Slow to anger and don’t fret.... be patient and wait cooled me off from luke warm to ember …Welcome Montague, I now understand where my emotion meets your position and by your smirk I can see you knew I was never a Capulet to begin with…..Trust Romeo.......Jesus
John F McCullagh May 2013
In fair Verona where Will set the scene
Belle Fortune moves the markers up and down.
Two households both alike in dignity
Fiercely compete for fear of losing ground.

When Juliet saw Romeo at the dance
Events were set in motion that, perchance,
Would see fair Juliet as our Romeo’s bride
but ultimately result in her suicide.

With Tybalt and Mercutio both dead,
And Capulet and Montague estranged.
Young Paris sought fair Juliet to wed
not knowing of her loss of maiden-head.

Romeo was banished for his crime,
a sin for which a peasant would have died
Their two households, joined because they wed,
remained divided by their foolish pride.

Summer’s fierce heat shimmered in the air,
oppressive in the absence of a breeze.
With Friar Lawrence’s help, Romeo’s girl played dead,
as if struck down by some unknown disease


Romeo , in Mantua, heard that his Juliet
Lay dead amongst the sleeping Capulets.
A draught of deadly poison he obtained
So they might sleep together once again.

When Romeo met Paris at her tomb,
Words led to swordplay, leaving Paris dead.
Would not the world have been a better place
if Romeo had kept it sheathed instead?

Unshriven, Romeo drank the poison down-
the only son of Montague now dead.
Perchance just then fair Juliet revives
Bereaved, she took his Dirk to bed instead.

Authorities, arriving at the scene,
could only mourn a brace of kinsmen lost.
Capulet and Montague were reconciled
Their amity bought at a fearful cost.
A cliff notes version of Romeo and Juliet
Isabella Terry Aug 2016
This is the story of my Juliet;

Of her Montague and his Capulet.

Roses smell sweet with no care of their name,

But with “Montague”, this just isn’t the same.



As a cruel joke, fate bonded their hearts,

For fate knew too well that they’d be torn apart;

Torn apart like the brawling in the public square,

Where Montagues and Capulets disagreed there.



I am the one whom Romeo loved,

Before he’d first seen his Capulet dove.

It happened quite fast, and inside the year,

We were something akin to the three musketeers.



We knew if the secretive lovers were caught,

They’d both be destroyed; impaled on the spot.

So I covered for them, and I helped them along,

And I did my best to sing over their song.



I witnessed the wedding, the friar’s compliance

In hopes that the families would form an alliance.

And while I had my doubts, I kept my lips sealed;

I allowed them to hope the tooth fairy was real.



Soon after that, I was with Romeo and his friend,

When Tybalt came along and caused Mercutio’s end.

I ran after Romeo, begging “Please! Use your head!”

But it was to no avail, and soon Tybalt was dead.



So Romeo was banished, and I sat with his wife;

I comforted her as she wept of her strife.

She was almost alright, but fate slipped on its gloves,

And she was betrothed to a man she couldn’t love.



Three times, I convinced her to put down her knife;

“You can do this, Capulet, don’t you take your own life!”

I spoke with the friar, and he had not a clue,

Till I formed a plan and a mysterious brew.



I sent a letter to Romeo, warning him of her sleep,

And so Juliet drank into slumber most deep.

Two days went past, then I felt my heart stop-

My letter had been returned, and Romeo’s address dropped.



I tripped a few times as I sprinted towards her grave,

All the while howling out Romeo’s name.

I leapt across ditches, I dashed around trees,

And I fount Montague, fallen to his knees.



“She is pure beauty, even in her death,”

Said Romeo as he took his last breath.

I lunged, and I screamed until my throat bled,

But bleed as I might, Romeo was now dead.



Juliet yawned, and it turned into a cry,

As the sight of his body burned into her eyes.

I stood up, hands shaking, and reached out to my friend,

But I knew this was a wound my soft words couldn’t mend.



“Juliet, don’t,” I pleaded weakly.

She shook her head sadly, said “I’m sorry, Rosaline.”

I held her small frame, and I felt her depart,

As she drove her own blade into her broken heart.



Montagues and Capulets sat together that day,

And they mourned their children and regretted their hate.

I stood up, though it pained me, and they looked distressed

At Juliet’s blood that soaked through my dress.



“This is your fault!” I yelled hoarsely at the lords.

“You ran your own children through with your swords!

If you are so noble, ordained from above,

How could you destroy their lives and their love!?”



“Don’t you dare let their sacrifices end in vain!

They were my friends, and they died so you’d change!

I hope you make peace, because your bigotry

Took Romeo and Juliet away from me!”



So it was, that the families have since lived in harmony,

But that is something that now hardly matters to me.

A rose by any name would still smell as sweet,

But if “Montague” was different…





This would not be a tragedy…
Amber Blank Jul 2013
We all know the story of Romeo and Juliet
But this is the untold story of another fair, beautiful Capulet
Rosaline as you may come to know
Met her demise at the hands of a Montague

She was the first object of dear Romeo's affection
But for dainty Rosaline, Romeo was not her selection.

He desperately tried to win her gaze.
She would only give hints to her hearts twisting maze.
Faithful to her vows of chastity
Another Montague held her key.

Benvolio stole her heart and won her affection
From first glance she was swept away, a true connection
Like the gentle lullaby of a nightingale
Her soul composed a symphony on his instrument could play

Kissed like the petals of a rose by the morning dew
A simple touch of his hand created a overwhelming sensation only they knew
Secretly inseparable, hidden romance
Their houses would not understand, so they took a very risky chance.

Until the day of that faithful fray between Capulet and Montague
Rosaline was caught in the crossfire of the two
Trying to keep the peace she lunged ahead
And at the hand of her true love she was dead.

He had not even a heartbeat to react.
Blinded by hate, a moment he could never take back.
Plagued by loss and despair
As if his lungs had been drained of air.

As the life left her eyes
He died inside.
Tragedy washed over their houses.
And in the end,
Hate won the war,
Love was left mangled and destroyed.
Stu Harley Jul 2015
star-cross lovers
yield to death
cleaved their hearts
Romeo and Juliet
one Montague and
the other Capulet
Annick Gray Dec 2015
You’re up in that big window,
out of sight and out of mind
Everybody says this isn’t
supposed to be right.
And there’s this big dance tonight.

My name isn’t on the list,
I’m just looking for that kiss,
so take my hand and seize the sin
from my lips.

We’re a modern Romeo and Juliet,
stuck like Montague’s and Capulet’s.
Masked opportunities arise
to catch you out of nowhere and make you mine.

What exactly is a name?
I can’t help but to refrain
but a rose by any other name
would still smell the same.
Our parents are so ****** deranged.

There’s a bloodbath in the streets.
I watch my best friend die on his knees.
I’ll avenge his death, you’ll fake yours.
To my belief, I’ve settled the score.

We’re a modern Romeo and Juliet,
stuck like Montague’s and Capulet’s.
Masked opportunities arise
to catch you out of nowhere and make you mine.

You drink the poison,
I’ll take a dagger to my heart.
Maybe then they’ll realize,
they were wrong from the start.

We’re a modern Romeo and Juliet,
stuck like Montague’s and Capulet’s.
Masked opportunities arise
to catch you out of nowhere and make you mine.

Never was a story of more woe
than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
Spin-off of Romeo & Juliet. Also a song that I wrote.
wordvango Sep 2014
A true semantic literary meaning
awakening to curate
my being
or throw away it all and question
the delivery of
the ics and isms
determining not by me but by the reader
what is true
like Montague
proposing a new system
I propose a meaningful regimen,
one where words are either felt
, make me halt and listen,
to what they truly meant.
Or they don't.
Acina Joy May 2018
We're love, a secret,
you and I.
Always meant to
say goodbye.
You're a rose with
thorns on the side.
Hard to love
without having
to fight.


But we both know
the thing we kept.
A fire that sparked,
one that I set.
Always been there
since we first met,
I'm your Romeo,
and you're my
Juliet.
Just a little Romeo and Juliet thing. (1/2)
John F McCullagh Aug 2018
In fair Verona where Will set the scene
Belle Fortune moves the markers up and down.
Two households both alike in dignity
Fiercely compete for fear of losing ground.

When Juliet saw Romeo at the dance
Events were set in motion that, perchance,
Would see fair Juliet as our Romeo’s bride
but ultimately result in her suicide.

With Tybalt and Mercutio both dead,
And Capulet and Montague estranged.
Young Paris sought fair Juliet to wed
not knowing of her loss of maiden-head.

Romeo was banished for his crime,
a sin for which a peasant would have died
Their two households, joined because they wed,
remained divided by their foolish pride.

Summer’s fierce heat shimmered in the air,
oppressive in the absence of a breeze.
With Friar Lawrence’s help, Romeo’s girl played dead,
as if struck down by some unknown disease


Romeo , in Mantua, heard that his Juliet
Lay dead amongst the sleeping Capulets.
A draught of deadly poison he obtained
So they might sleep together once again.

When Romeo met Paris at her tomb,
Words led to swordplay, leaving Paris dead.
Would not the world have been a better place
if Romeo had kept it sheathed instead?

Unshriven, Romeo drank the poison down-
the only son of Montague now dead.
Perchance just then fair Juliet revives
Bereaved, she took his Dirk to bed instead.

Authorities, arriving at the scene,
could only mourn a brace of kinsmen lost.
Capulet and Montague were reconciled
Their amity bought at a fearful cost.
A cliff notes version of Romeo and Juliet
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
i get to be ridiculous, i'm an artist, it's only that my ridiculousness doesn't border with the Vatican City, or Switzerland that it's deemed "weird" (symbol use, also know as passing on misnomers, ~ - that's ambiguity, a stranger punctuation construct from the hyphen), it's weird because i'm attired in familiar clothing to an Essex loafer, i don't have the currency to buy fancy Pompidou mascara or lipstick and stroll with other drag queens at gay pride... i'm back-of-the-woods type of guy, on the Cartesian Libra heavyweight to the side of 'i think' than on the pigeon-**** weight side of 'i am' - mathematically speaking that's like 2 + 1 = 3 - "schizoid" thinking coupled to non-schizoid behavioural patterns therefore means... an increased threshold capacity for experiencing pain.

the first time i smoked marijuana
(and i didn't know how to roll
a joint of marijuana and tobacco)
was the happiest time of my life,
i exercised a lot, practised Roman bulimia
unconsciously - no pills, nothing,
******* down my throat, later
i trained the *suprahyoid
and the infrahyoid
muscles so well that
i could just throw the chocolate bars up,
trained them so well as if i was gagging
on a *****... but to keep a body image,
well, you know, to look **** (add sarcasm
with the italics) you have to do what women
do, for me it was a Roman Bulimia,
for them, dieting - it was weird owning
a different body from the one i own now,
c.c.t.v. Narcissus-shadow stalker was all a craze back then,
too much self-conscious ******* wrapped in
a ***** and sent to a daycare centre -
it feels great these days, drinking 70cl of whiskey
a night, and why would i be bragging without
a bowler hat and a cane a butterfly prim
on my neck and a neat suit?
i read Bulgakov, that'll do, i have an operatic
cat at this moment, i've never heard so many variations
of meow after the doors to the garden are closed
and he's told to remain indoors after 9p.m.,
he sits on the bathroom windowsill and wants
to be nannied in the lap while someone smokes
downstairs... 'fella, same fresh air down here as up there'...
it's more of a fox than a cat...
he matured to be ~10 kilograms, and so's a mature fox,
i know, i weighed one, cutting a work's pay for
some sanitary worked one night
when i was eager to buy a few beers... mature foxes
~10 kilograms minus 21 grams (you know, the
Higgs' boson of soul, alejandro gonzález iñárritu -
but why add ñá so close? it's -nia- anyway,
so Mexico or e ** ** **, the Mexican Hew, huh?
ah... Habana!)
swear to god, never heard so many variations...
where was i? ah, adapting Bach's polyphony within
poetry, could have been a king david, but i smashed
my lyre... i never liked the cheap one-man tennis
and a brick wall of poetry within claim of stiffening repeats:
rhyme... bounce... rhyme... Bunsen! rhyme... bounce...
rhyme... Bunsen! ya-d'ah ya-d'ah ya-d'ah...
a carousel in Golders Green where all the payots
flew off and made french pastry curls... cinnamon... mm.
and two books i wish i'd written -
closed society and it's allies, the alt. to Popper's
antonym based yawn-epic - Karl, falsifier -
and anger and restlessness, the alt. to a Danish
epic by Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling -
alt. say it as it is - ******* is like a bow-tie event,
a moth a butterfly event - the ******* was
there for a reason, pleasure from *******
when your *** partner was "feeling tired",
men and women are both libido struck sometimes
to extremes, they mentioned f.g.m. but didn't mention
m.g.m., with ******* you ain't chasing, you ain't
playing the dating game - circumcision gave
women the upper hand, the toy machine of manhood,
you have ******* for a reason, it's not in line with
ancient Hebraic laws where you have to do 613 things
to obey... and with ******* you're less likely to
go Boko Haram cuckoo and steal girls for their ******* -
i believe the fabled conversation between Zeus and
Hera is necessary - women derive more pleasure
from ***... but men derive more pleasure from life -
well, if you have *******, see the image problem?
i'm dressed... you're undressed... i have two capacities
and a tool to curb my libido, you have jack and a stockpile
of nukes - with a cigar smoking duke on percussion
that only takes one press and the whole orchestra starts
up with a crescendo rather than a build-up.
oh right... the first time i started smoking marijuana i
was 21... i remember it clearly, i don't know how i managed
to roll a joint... Edinburgh 2007, Montague Street,
i rolled one... smoked it... lay on the floor...
and giggled my way through Daft Punk's album human
after all
- giggled and danced horizontally...
solipsism at it's finest... later i met a girl who said that
*** after marijuana was so much better than sober...
i beg to disagree... given that solo moment,
and ******* prostitutes drunk, esp. in Amsterdam,
where i don't have to feel any English sensibilities on the matter.
Steele Jun 2015
When my Juliet calls, and my soul is weary.
I briefly fold, and long to follow that path I can't attempt.
Sweet dagger, pierce my heart, and let our embrace shake the stars,
But the will to live wins over a world without a Capulet

It's the hardest decision that I'm never going to get,
because the path of least resistance is
the path I can't accept.
It's because my life is never ready.
The poison's on her lips already.
Hands are shaking, Blade is steady.
Sweet dagger, pierce my heart,
and gift to me this path of sweet regret.

      Romeo is cold and weary,
     Oblivion is singing cheery
                 Songs for
            what he longs for
             and the night;
             and the blade
              shines alight
with blood so cold and wet.
Matalie Niller Jun 2012
Monsters make marvelous pets
and friends
and gods
don't need to be scaley
just powerful
enough to crush bone or spirit
enough to spit logic into the wind
splat in faces
take up spaces
non-believers, over-acheivers
angry beavers
all the same really
made of carbon and hope
floating through the time line
expanding and contracting with the seasons of the universe
be the bee
the ruins on mountains moved with seismic surges
survived storms
bend in the breeze
scream obscenities
loader than sound
faster than sight
perception deception
cartoonish *******
and that is how
the world is made.
M.S. Capulet it's time to be honest with my self
time to wash my chest out
come clean about all I've really felt
This isn't perfect, isn't close,
but neither was the romance that Speare wrote
feel like a fairytale frog with words stuck in my throat
been trying to speak what i feel but so far only just croak
                    Let me be your romeo...

Dove, you remind me what it's like to fall in love
at midnight like a Montague
you make me want to
throw pebbles at your window
come over late on nights like this when i don't know
because you would't say and you fell asleep
(you thought this might just be a summer thing, some sort of fling)
But I'd do almost anything
to keep you Juliet
no regret, no joke
         I don't think there ever were words big enough for this hope. . .

And the two lovers they were starcrossed
just like my fingers when we started "us"
that night we stargazed but i guess I'm just
afraid we'll shatter into stardust
he climbed but
she would have jumped if he asked
that's us
we're trying to get over our past. . .

I'm not gonna pretend i don't think about the past
that i don't sometimes wish it, but that's just it
we've got this chance and i'm not gonna miss it
we've got this time and i'm not gonna twist it around
I've got an ugly purple scar across my heart, will you kiss it now?
It's been far too long trying to get this off my chest
but let's write our own tragedy,
       hell, romance is a mess, miss. . .
notice, beginning M.S. is not ms. It is my girlfriend's initials, but the similarity helped inspire how i ended the last stanza.
Robbie May 2014
A name, a name
What be in a name?
Forsooth, more than I had attended.
Montague hath borne me, yet unto Capulet tombs do I bestow myself.
This pestilence of a name, oh!
What sorrow has it brought Romeo!
Yet I do not beshrew my name this wicked Fate.
My Juliet, mine own love,
could Death have yet to claim thee?
Thine cheeks, rosy as summer
thine skin, warm as sunlight.
Could thee truly indeed be Death's paramour?
Would not it sur-prise me, for thine beauty is oft coveted.
'Twas not fault of mine nor fault of yours that hath led us to such accursed Fate;
'twas fault of our blood, flowing in hatred; marry for many a year.
Long did Montague carry coals from the lips of thine cousins, and Capulet from mine.
Alas, to reminisce does one no good.
I shall tarry not long, my love!
Bitter apothecary, thou bringeth me upward to St. Peter;
to the glimmering gates of the Promised Land where mine Juliet awaits!
...But behold how her eyes flutter; my heart stutters in reproach.
But fight can I not!
I succumb to the arms of Death.
Follow on my heels, dear Juliet.
ᗺᗷ Nov 2013
More often than is naught I carry the face of the villain.
Snared in this prison waiting for my turn to burn while
your fate is not so different from mine. My clocks still
yield some ticks and tocks yet before I go there stands a
few things you need to know:

They told me that your love was fatal, though failed to
hear the laughter of irony from behind their heads. They
cried tales that you were toxic and I could not save my
lips from curling. They said that your presence in mine
would design the suffering for those around. I was told
that you would leave me up in smoke as if God still
plays with dice. Your middling cigarette spends just the
beginning of their lives packing yet I waged it my
whole life just to spend its remnants with you. Addictive
by nature so let me take my pick of a million other lips
to secure truth that it is you I am addicted to.

I want you to simmer my skin when the world is cold,
I want to cast you brighter than a hundred suns hold,
I want to steal breath from your chest and place it in mine,
I want to make your heart stop like an eight-sided sign,
I want you to move my pistons and ignite my core,
I want you to saturate me as I lay on your shore,
I want to find what it is to go out with a bang,
I want to be that picture that fits in no frame.

I want to get you out of my head but you are
my song on repeat,
my hole that’s too deep,
my nights with no sleep,
my words when I speak.

Yet alas I hail from a pack known as Montague while
you bear the brand of Capulet. They will never render
us free in this life so when my time finally comes to a
burning halt, and my life flashes before my eyes, just
know that you will be the only thing I see in the next.
Its  a real life R&J; her and me
that's Romeo and Juliet don't you see?
minus the suicide of course, but true all the same
its fate and destiny that I blame
her as a Capulet, the majestic Juliet
I, the Montague, Romeo, no regret
Theres the suitor first, Paris who had his chance
This princess of a lifetime and he only offered one dance
no wonder she left him, the arrogant ***
did he really have a chance, that boy had no class.
I stole her heart with just a look, what's that say for me?
charmed i'm sure, but I'm just that **** lucky
to take her hand in just three days, lucky lucky me
she had my heart with a gesture, me happily
obliging to her every command
after all, I'm a gentleman
I have no time for swag
after all, yolo makes me gag
The indescribable spark in those eyes
That which you cannot disguise
To glimpse or breathe or gaze
Fleeting moments to sustain my days
Innocence defined by your rebel blue
Flicked lash knows what I would do
To have your all, all I would give
Blood Love Breath, to see you live
Gentle brow to graceful cheek
Supple lines that my hand doth seek
Mouth full, sweet nectar tips
Pouty passion pulls on my lips
Fingers find fresh flaxen hair
Sensually stroking silken air
Inhalation intoxication jasmine scent
Invokes memory of Montegue's lament
For that chap did eternally yearn
Yet ironic ending, love's lesson learned
To capture the heart yet never keep
Once lost, Love leaves you to weep
I knew one day you would come
Fluid love, fleshy feel, hugs from
Wanting more than I deserve
Of your flowing female curve
Irresistible smile scars my soul
Cupid's sting has taken it's toll
Allison Charde Oct 2013
tonight i looked in the mirror
and saw the eyes of the fearless woman
i'd always known myself to be
and then
i noticed your toothbrush
left standing straight up in holder next to mine
like a bone

i felt myself crumbling as a wrapped my hands around it
plain- a CVS brand that was good and rough on your teeth-

i was so hesitant to notice it there
drops of you are still falling around in my life
making everything a little soggy and melancholy

i put your toothbrush back in it's place

you came into my life like an anvil
that fell straight from heaven onto my chest
and i adored the asphyxiation
we exploded into a fool's paradise
and there we were
montague and capulet
slow dancing to the edge with misplaced romantic fervor

i'm going to leave your toothbrush in my bathroom for just a little while longer
don't be fooled, my heart is indeed broken

but i would rather the fullness and cleanliness of pain
than the emptiness and disarray of being really
really alone.
Mary Gay Kearns Feb 2018
Montague and Connie Flu
Got caught up in a racing boom
Found themselves in a field
With coloured banners and an ice cream que;
All the competitors in a line
Wearing fitting clothes , combined.
Connie in her high heeled shoes
Wondered what she could do,
Monty suggested taking them off
Wrapping her feet in an old Jay- cloth
Connie did not like this view
So borrowed a pair of training shoes
From a member of the Boom,
Black and white with silver stars
Matched her top and legging style,
So they ran their fastest best
Over hill and under tree
Won the race without out a phew!


Love Grandma for Monty and Connie .
Anna Lo Apr 2012
Oh Darling,
don't sanctify me as a higher being,
your salvation out of your rut.
the world is a green moist sponge,
and I am just another dihydrogen oxide molecule trapped
in it's fibers
crying for salvation
screaming for baptization
waiting for nothing
and although you think in binary terms.
I think in decimal
and yet
we are the stigma
of the guy
and the gal
in this dream of dreams.
a heiress of confession
I am here
surreal and every single inch
made out of stardust
to remind you...
Remember Montague
and the frosted lake?
where we built the blanketfort
among the trees
for the child
and lit her world
with dazzling LEDs,
as she stared in the tent
higher than fools
talking nonsense words
about the world
and her feelings
because she's so sad
and because she's so mad
because no one cares
except her
and her watering eyes.
she says.
I have no one.
And you can't do anything about it, starwhale
because that's the way I like it.
Anna Aug 2013
I was the one who received the faithful letter from Mr. Darcy
I was the one who held Holden when he cried
I was the one who Guy Montague thought was beautiful
I was the one who Heathcliff came back to the Wuthering Heights for
I was the one who Mr. Rochester tried to illegally marry
I was the one who D'Artagnan grieved over after the abduction
I was the one who Captain Wentworth fell back in love with
I was the one who Dorian Gray actually cared for
I was the one who Candide brought the gold for in El Dorado
I was the one who Winston Smith kissed in that attic
I was the one who cried when they all left me with a silent flipping of a page
the truth is I fall in and out of love by these beautiful men...
Kaeru May 2014
A POETIC MONOLOGUE

Romeo, romeo
wherefore art thou Romeo
Why are you Romeo?
Why must I be attracted to Romeo?
Was it God that made me this way?
The Christians will scoff
and they will judge
and they will say
“It's a choice that you yourself make”

Is this what you believe?
That every struggle I go through,
every ignored prayer I've ever prayed,
every tear I cried,
was all happening by my own choice?
You would dare to sit there
and hold me in judgement
and tell me that none of my feelings are real?

And you tell me that I have a choice to make,
that I can choose life or choose death.
Choose who you will follow!
As for you and your house,
you will serve the LORD.
And I came to the conclusion
that's you're absolutely right.
I have a choice to make,
and here is what I have decided:

I choose life.
Life lived how I want to live it!
Not dictated by someone else's morals
handed down to them by some
ancient blood god.
No, this is life as I choose it!

A life of loving someone
until you feel like they are a part of you.
A life of selflessness
in that you would die just to save them,
A life of laughter,
of tears,
of fights,
of make ups
and tender moments.
Is that really all that different
from what you have?

I choose to break out of the mental *******
that you programmed into me
throughout my entire life.
I choose to believe that our Creator
would not give us the ability to love like that
and then punish us eternally for doing it.
I choose to break free of fear
of stigmas and prejudices and ideas
that make no logical sense.

So you asked me my choice,
and now you have it.
Ostracize me!
Label me!
Gossip about how perverted I am
among the other church hens!
Your ******* will no longer hold me back.
Your scare tactics and your unreasonable hatred
will only add fuel to the fire of the rage
that you yourselves have kindled.
Perhaps you could even say
that my anger is fueled by the hell fires
that will one day consume me.

There should be no shame in loving Romeo.
As Juliet said as she stood there,
her love far below,
“Deny thy father and refuse thy name, 
Or if thy wiltnot,be but sworn my love, 
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”
Montegue and Capulet,
their love forbidden.
Their families against them.
And one said to the other
“Forsake those who oppose us to be with me.
Or if you will not forsake anyone,
then I will forsake those who discourage me.
To be with you.

That my Christian family will ostracize me
when they find out
does not bother me.
That many friends who are Christians
will suddenly have no time for me
does not bother me.
What bothers me is that you could be so cold
while claiming to have the love of God
that you would treat people this way.
Where's your compassion?
Where's your mercy?
God commanded you
to have those things too.
I guess picking cherries
doesn't just happen in orchards.

I wish I had a voice.
I wish I was someone that people listened to.
I would tell people to love without question
and NEVER
let anyone
tell you who you can love.
Stand up and be proud,
and proud of the ones who love you so much.
Grab life by the *****,
if you'll pardon the expression,
and stand up for what matters to you.
Show those who oppose you
that you love this person so much
that you would gladly forsake being a Montague
to be with them.
And that they would happily leave behind the Capulets
just for an opportunity to hold hands with you.

That I found someone
I would spend the rest of my life with
should be a happy moment for them.
That they'd turn it into such a moment of sadness
is heartbreaking beyond words to express.
Oh I'm not a member of your family anymore?
Oh I should lose your phone number?
Well played, Christian brothers and sisters.
Well played.
But I will not be discouraged.
I will not be swayed.
Must I forsake the Capulets to be with my love?
Fine.
So be it.

But let it be known now
that I will not be silent.
I will not cry off until
injustice has been broken
and humanity's darker side
falls into a dark grave
dug with it's own ignorance and hatred.
Until every person is free under the law
until every voice raised against us
finally falls silent.

Equal love, equal rights.
Peace, brothers and sisters.
#EqualLoveEqualRights
See the video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tsGXhMVCjEw
We’re taking a journey through the times.
First back to Shakespeare and his clever rhymes.
He tells the story of Romeo and Juliet,
And if you were Montague, I’d change my name from Capulet.
The story of star crossed lovers,
Who in the end, died for each other.

Now we take a small trip through the rain forest,
Take a moment and play Tarzan.
Take another moment and let me be your Jane.
And when the storm threatens,
We won’t wait for the puddles,
We’ll go out dancing in the rain.

Here we go, under the sea.
Let’s take this trip, just you and me.
We zoom through the big ocean blue,
Like Ariel and Prince Eric, without a clue.
The green seaweed talks through our ears,
Living an underwater life where you can’t see tears.

As we sit alone together in the dark of light.
Only the candle between us, glowing in the night.
I hear the clock strike the new day,
Then out I go, wishing all the while that I could stay.
I’m Cinderella, running through the dark, climbing upon my ride,
Looking down and surprised to see, my glass slippers are still on my feet inside.

The endings may be different now,
No weddings, no ball gowns, no death.
They make you say “wow”
Then you can only hold your breath.
I had to write this for a class. I like it a lot though.
Abi Banks Jul 2013
Because of you, I'm doubled over
All through the night
And it's dark
very, very dark,
Pitch black

And in the distant hours, Im rocking and rolling
Stomach in knots.

The darkness and blackness looks and me and laughs
Knowing I promised I wouldn't
And I have
The stars, the milky way, the universe
All giggle at my weakness

But I laugh back up at them
At myself
I should be frightened
bit I am being fixed
Healed, is going too far,
However.

I am not the Capulet, an NO!
You are not the established Montague
Star-crossed we are not
But at one moment, gravity
did not pull me down
but pulled me in

And how dare you make my emotions tun into a
supernova
How dare you allow me to feel

Because now,
it's too late.

Not star-crossed, but stars collided
And what happens then?
We both know we'll blow up
Supernova
I just trust the universe
To make sure nothing

Breaks.
ArthurDKid Jul 2015
Born as Montague and you as Capulet.
Killed our love with doubts in the silhouette;
If only we dared not to rely our fate in roulette.
How I wish we fought for it like Romeo and Juliet.

Even though it lasted like matches that burned out so soon
And sadly, forever we are the sun and the moon.
Your sweet smile, your bubbly endearments and your voice of calming tune
Moments, will not dare to forget, that made my day light as balloon
poem for a friend
During the fifteenth century,
in Verona, Italy...
Lays a story of the star crossed lovers,
that ends in pure tragedy.
According to the stars above
it is said that the couple,
was never meant to fall in love.
The Capulet's rue,
the Montague's.
A long lasting feud,
that ended very crude.
Already secretly wed,
by the Friar Lawrence.
Juliet is forced to Marry Paris instead.
On the day she is to wed she drinks a potion,
to fake herself dead...
When Romeo hears about his wife's death...
It is at that moment,
he is ready to take his very last breath.
Their love was marked ill-fated.
All because one family was very well hated.
Daiene Sep 2018
Waiting for such beauty
I was filled with thirst
and she the wine to quench
such soreness in my throat.

Whilst I avenge the death of young love
she, a youthful beauty dared to defy death for her lover who
drank his poison and she with a dagger to her heart.

A tragedy,
my misery.
For I who loved her
is now left with not a thing
but agony
and longing
for a fool.


I, a noble
with no wisdom to boast
shame on me for such lack
of wit
to realize that no tenderness
no love
would be spared for me.
for i am no romeo.

I never stood a chance
to this youngster, Montague
even the queen Mob knew
that
I was nothing
but her father's favorite Paris
and never is,
never was
and never will capture the heart
of the beauty that is Juliet.
Something familiar ive never seen before.
Beats the doubt of me.
In a shape of a gun
In a mili wink of duration
Pulls
And guts.

Its what you spoke
Not everything that shines is gold
In the minimum intention
I foresake the days of luxury
And withdrew
In a blow of a kiss.

My energy could never
Illustrate the thoughts of
What you mean to me
In its emense originality.

swiver and chiver
Deeper and deeper…

Your hands, lips and eyes
Skin, scent and taste
Danced for the last time
In my brain.

I’m venom
With a Montague name.
Opposing…
Tender
Undeserved miracle.
Created by everything I’m not
Precious and out of this dimenstion.
You are
You are.
by: myself, Kristiany "Kandii"
Please don't steal.
Florence Maude Jan 2016
What kind of an ungrateful brat
Trades her family like a hat

After keeping her from harm
Making sure she is warm

She married our only foe
Bringing us such grave woe

My once pride and joy
Leaves us like a toy

All because of a son of Montague
Her time in this family is through
My teacher assigned me to write four poems describing Juliet Capulet from four character's perspectives. Can you guess who each is from?
kj foster Aug 2010
What hope do I hold
When I’m next to the rest?
For I am not very bold
And I’m far from the best.
What hope do I have
Among Romeo Montague,
Who leapt into death
In one swift swoon?
What hope do I have
Among Mister Clark Kent,
The Man of Steel
Who remains unbent?
What hope do I have
Among Martin Luther King,
Who wore his heart on the outside
Rather then the hue of his skin?
What hope do I have
Among men like Jesus,
Who took his own body
And broke it in pieces?
What hope can I hold
When I’m next to the rest,
For I am not very bold
And I am so far from the best.
I’ve never climbed a mountain
Without losing my breath.
And I’ve never held a woman
Without being scared to death.

Perhaps there is nothing that I truly lack,
For rather then standing next to others
I should simply stand in back.

The question I have for each father and sage
Does the path I trek become easier in years
Or even harder with age?
              ...no...

I’ve set a new trip,
Followed my heart,
Taking life’s script
Rewriting my part.
I’ll embrace my own way
Rather then try to condemn,
I’ll discard the man
That I’ve been made,
And just be the man I am.
Romeo and Juliet, such a tragic tale of woe
It truly speaks to one's heart
Speaks to one's soul
How every girl dreams of being said Juliet
Of having the houses fight, Montague and Capulet  
Girls will beg and plead, for a nanny such as she
One who will let their lover come to the window and take her virginity
These girls will also be ok with death
As long as it ends just like Romeo and Juliet.    
But what they do not know, what they cannot see    
Is that true love should not **** thee
There should be not a fight
Of who's house holds the most might
True love should not end as tragic as this
True love should continue to flourish with true loves kiss
Just some rambling thoughts on Shakespeare
Postal Leo Jan 2019
Tries to disappear, to a world of drama. Shocks real people far to much, end that **** with a comma. Confused by reality, diluted by hate. Wasn't given a real chance, no no, just told he could be ******* great. And he talks big ****, and acts real hard, cause he's afraid of dying. But I'll bet you twenty-five and a subway ticket he spent all last night crying. You don't gotta talk mad, for me to believe that you can punch my lights out. If you talk big game, what can you really be all about. Nothing, and let me tell, there’s nothing to make me angrier, so thank Saint Peter, that your protected by the power’s that be, is, isn't, and forever will sing!

As the world ends, and the chess board clears, fat man sings, then chugs a few beers, I’ll still exist, left behind by the rapture. No heaven for me, God’s light will never be captured. Yet I look around, and still see all of you. Even his people, have no clue what to do. Because all of us are with fault, unworthy of his plan. So he’s remaking the flood, just to deal with man. No rainbow to stop him now, he’s to go all out. And in heaven he’ll stay alone, his personal hideout. For he threw the souls back down to earth, he grew tired of them, but ghosts aren't real, cause I've never seen one man. Just saw a vision of the woman, who was meant to be my wife, hung upside down, taken her own life.  

So, as we waste away my dear, let us promise to never leave the other's side. For I refuse to be responsible, for your acts of mass homicide. In a kiss we bind our tongues together, now able to determine truth from lie. And now, just like late Sir Montague, I drink the poison, die. And then reach for the sky, see a man in blue, don't want to die. So scared of getting shot, it makes some grown men cry. Am I part of the system, of “systematic oppression”? I hope that it doesn't exist, and my kids learn the lesson. For it’s to late for me, i'm all out of ideas, and hope, and love, and anything to keep the world moving.

Tell my father, I'm sorry, I was disappointing. But let him know, he has a soul, worthy of voicing. Tell my brothers i'm sorry for being a bully. Making them backed in a corner, make em tumble down a gully. Dear sister, im sorry, i never understood our fights. Two top dogs always trying to say their right. If i, could turn back the clock i would. Because together, we could have owned the block, the entire neighborhood. And mom, we have had many a word. But i feel pride to call you mother, the same a gnat would a bird. And I all hope that you accept the one i choose. But I think still lose.

The world becomes unfamiliar, and i become filled with doubt. Not knowing who i truly am, something you know nothing about. When it all becomes against you, and your completely filled with fear, you begin to lose hold of everyone you hold dear. Then maybe you'll have an inkingling of what it’s like to be me, alone, afraid, all hope is lost, and you would make it better, at any cost. It’s just called emotional distress, and i'm under complete emotional duress.How can you find me this way? Acting like i got drunk, without a party underway. If I’m so lost without you, what's the point of sobering up? I think have nightmares of you, because your the reason i end up at the bottom, of a red solo cup. But in my nightmare’s there's a light that begins to destroy the darkness. Does it have a name? Is it coming for my carcas? Am i even of importance, to it’s omnipotence?

How does one even discern the inconceivable mass that is knowing all, being all knowing, rather, not being free, and never again having the chance to learn anything. It’s a, sad state of affairs that we’re in, when you have nothing else to live for expect living itself. Breathe. What does it mean? H20, science terms, and a few other things. But if you bridge away from your omnipotence, and look into the human mind, you’ll find, breath, means to live, live fast, strong, hard, and quickly. And that’s something omnipotence would never get you. Human emotion is far too complex to ever truly understand. Therapists, they make what we call, educated guesses, and listen to you speak to find the root of your problem, but beyond that….
I got a bit heated with this one, i suppose. Please suggest tags. Feel like this is one i want to update, so, look out for that.
wordvango Apr 2017
My three daughters and I
Spot, Blue and sweet Timex,
live within the walls
of this Verona like  apartment,
Missy, the Black Lab who played nursemaid
to these three I believe, aided and abetted
sweet Timex's foray.
I, a Capulet, truly love my daughters
but easily fly into rages,
wishing a fair and providing man for them,
not the hell of the Montague clan,
namely bighead. Bighead roams the streets the alleys the back woods
no earnings or propriety,
no means to his unmatted fur,
his wild houls in the night, testament.
The nurse then, on a late night, asked to go out.
I tired, got complacent and out timex flied!
She returned a week later,
not the young kitten, playful,
but a Cat, with hunger in her eyes.
Spot and Blue, still are eager to discover the outsides,
Probably filled in on all that is there,
by Timex. And she no longer plays.
She even meows different now,
seems to meow
O Bighead, wherefore art thou Bighead!
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2021
chopper: chop-off-chew; a 502 bad gateway bypass cheat code...

i know what i'll spend my money earned on, in what priority, i'll spend them on a brothel, i'll spend them on a *******: after all... she will spend that earned money on trivial matters, she will buy a pair of shoes: i'll buy a pair of shoes when the ones i'm wearing will become worn... i hope i can write this without an inkling toward spite... i'm happy to be childless, i'm happy to not be married... how best to decipher my feeling, at present... FAUN... WAINAMOINEN... i will not trust the leftist cosmopolitan brigade to break up this... resurgence of a folkish spirit among the Hyperboreans... making a resurgence in song, in wording... covert... under the radar... seemingly sleeping... even Heidegger mentions this... of the people is very much distinct to: of the folk... people inhabit cities and the make-shift constructs of nations... the folk? they inhabit the land! why should an African feel welcome among the winters and the crows... when i... giggle like a child... foreign among the lost seasons at the equator with the macaque monkeys?! these people are not here to belong... they know it themselves... however many safety-nets are placed for our liberal liking & their comfort... they are unnaturally "here"... our own worst enemies... white "liberal elites"... one cocktail after a second... after... no more water to churn out alcohol... these people have come for a reason... i don't know what the reason is... better living is hardly requesting more complications from technology... when life can be simplified from the closest of the most close connections... hier: hoch norden?! alle er tabt! tysk er æsten dansk...
deutsch ist fast dänisch! we might have fought wars among each other... but at least we belonged, together, even i... liberal as i were, for so long... it's not like i can't be... leaving a route for allowance for other cultures, other races... but... i'm... becoming more... detached from reality... detached from purpose... from the geography... from the forest... language is my last defence... these people shouldn't be here because they shouldn't be here: they shouldn't be here because... there's no need for me to be among their culture! their people! if i don't need to be somewhere, why should someone "think" it necessary to be among "my", people? mongrel ******* mongrel gives us this... ****** culture! hardly any tourism... i can be a tourist in Africa... would i want to live in Africa? no! so... why the ****... thank you Russia... WE, HAVE, NO, SHARED, STORIES... JUST... THESE... SOCIAL-JUSTICE ARGUMENTATIVE POINTS... EVERYTHING IS POLITICAL: HARDLY NARRATIVE... SUFFERING FROM MEMORY EROSION... IN THE IMMEDIACY OF JOURNALISTIC *******... i bemoan this sudden quest of man: because... i believe in its failure... a failure most gross... my heart prays for this ****** experiment to fail! fail it must! scheitern es muss! svigte det skal! lethargy kicks in... being too pleasing... too pleasant... my mind retorts: almost automatically... i'm QUITS! why? looking at children... i don't want them to suffer this mental diarrhoea in future years... i want them to look at faces most familiar... i'm SLEPT... i'm QUITS... ******* SAVVY?!


i've been a hermit for so long,
shunning human contact with only minor
outbursts of contact with strangers,
old men on park benches
talking about their grandchildren
and sons-in-law,
Rayleigh bicycles, seasonal diets
(not buying watery strawberries from
Spain in the winter months,
eating more vegetables - in general -
binging on local, seasonal fruit
from local farms),
prostitutes in the brothel, talking...
*******...
but always in concentrated outbursts
of interaction...
someone in London around Whitechapel
stopping me while he implored me
to fix his breaks...
hands up... listen: if i had some tools...
i'd try...
this spurned me on to now ride around
with some tools... i only need about three...
obviously i'm not going to take a *******
pump with me too... there's a reasonable
point of what i am willing to do for strangers...
so i gave him some advice...
it's the back break, that's faulty?
remember... take longer to break...
since the front break is only working you
might go forward by breaking too heavily...
and if you're going to break heavily...
stand up on your breaks...
and leverage yourself on the handlebars...
put extra pressure on them: top down...
homeless men...
once i ******* this woman for sitting
down on the pavement with this homeless man
i knew who migrated from Romford
to Seven Kings...
gave him a cigarette and laughed a while...
with some fwends... some autistic guy from
school who... got into drinking...
blah blah...
     so she starts attacking me with...
YOU! YOU! i just waved my hand and told her:
i'm not going to argue with you...
i suppose she was implying i was supposed
to be talking up women...
i was there for a Guinness...
later that same night i went to the brothel
for some love... or as i like to call it:
cuddle & giggles...
- that one time this crazy Rastafarian started
talking to me about the Hebrew deity
deformity (in his Rastafarian way)
we started talking from Romford
he dragged me to... Hackney... of all places
to distribute pamphlets to black Baptist churches
i had a "date" with a few fwends to watch
some boxing on t.v.,
- i won't even mention that one black guy
who took me on a carousel of his crack *******
addiction... that was a long time ago...
the two of us were strapped to the insides of
a phone-box while he took up a crack-*******
glass doo-di (what would you call it?
a glass smoking pipe?)
******* madman... that's also at the same time
i was having my first psychotic breakdown
from... smoking marijuana and fasting...
and walking around London...
so many more isolated instances of "dealing"...
interacting with... people...
now this... from my period of isolation...
social hibernation... where i threw myself at writing
so heavily hearted...
graveyards, forests... at night...
there was this one funny instance...
a car parked in Bower Wood...
took a while to take a **** on the grass...
owl... check... fox... check... rabbits... check...
deer... check... something cracked some
branches while i sat on a log bare-chested...
i actually opened my mouth and uttered
the words: that's not a human... is it, are you?!
walking almost blind screaming at the top
of my voice, growling... snarling...
through havering county park... climbing past
a barbwire fence to get up close to
the horses grazing in the field...
in the dark putting my hand against a horse's mouth...
i can forgive the horse...
it thought i might have something in my hand...
like a sugar cube or an apple to nibble on...
it started nibbling on my fingers...
bucktooth ****** turned around and his hoof
almost skimmed my forehead...
i still wonder what it might feel like
to be kicked in the head by a horse's hind legs...
i tried it once... punched myself several times
in the face until i gave myself a black eye...
i still have marks on my knuckles from the time
i took pleasure from putting out
cigarettes on them...
i guess i don't dream much...
i need to be closest to reality through...
the only best available a medium that most
resonates: pain...
- or perhaps a quote from Pablo Coelho...
the alchemist...
as a teenager i was planning on travelling to India...
India came to London,
****'s sake... the whole world came to London!
why would i leave (Greater) London?
if i were to travel across the Thames...
i'd be in a completely different country...
i once cycled from Romford to Greenwich...
already the difference were visible...
the north is like... what's the right comparison?
BUDA...
the south of London? PESHT...
less underground, more trains...
trams of Croydon, for ****'s sake: i thought that
trams were a Berlin / Warsaw "thing"...
if i wanted to: i'd ******* to Edinburgh and...
find the old place i was staying at
in my third year... Montague St.
just off Nicholson St.,
i'd go back to the mosque near Appleton Tower
for a curry... i'd perhaps do some bouldering
on the Crags... if i were to find my mountain
climbing shoes...
i am still, yet, to eat a deep-fried Mars bar...
or a deep-fried pizza...
like **** i am ever going to...
just today i ate a revelation...
usually... smoked salmon... well... obviously
on a bagel... with some fresh cucumber and dill
with a decent dollop of mayo...
today?
soft white cheese... the smoked salmon
& some lemon juice...
wow...
- finding work outside the family business...
i.e. not working with my father has become...
refreshing...
he... he could "abuse" me verbally as best he could...
you're doing this wrong, you're doing
that wrong... strangers? no chance...
but this own son: he treated the harshest...
i said to myself: **** it... i'm not putting up with
this sort of UBERSCHEISSE!
i haven't worked in... has it been a decade?
"worked" worked... i wrote... investing in
people not yet born!
the people, my contemporaries: sure, i care...
but... i'm not writing a Dan Brown novel:
am i? i'm looking for... longevity...
i'm looking for immortality...
to hell with not being paid...
to hell with spending money in ways that makes
you regret it: you will never find yourself
earning money: but you will regret... spending it
in ways that deviate from a "pattern" of
well-kept endeavours...
i don't mind spending anything on my bicycle...
why? cycling is my last outlet
of... aloneness "tourism"... to hell with going
on a cruise... i take up cycling to...
Thurrock... or deeper into Essex...
hell... i'll cycle into central London...
ah... sigh of relief... i'm alone...
i like dodging traffic... i like the added thrill of large
objects that might **** me...
but at the same time i adore the abundant emptiness
of the countryside...
well... it's not: "empty"... but writing makes it out
as it is... no ******* Wordsworth's worth
of ode to nature here...
perhaps some... die grenzwacht hielt im osten...
folk songs in, esp. in die deutschezunge...
- i think i know why, why i find this language
so endearing... it's all about the infiltration process...
i could... wholeheartedly... abandon it...
with even having to wear shoes...
i feel so much for it: yet at the same time...
if i were recalled to the mutterzungen needs...
i think i might... how i can hold twin-allegiances
i will never know...

uns ander'n brach die kraft...
und heute noch und immer
    den weg nach osten zeigt...

so far away from people... yet so close...
to put into writing...
i would have loved joining the army...
chemical engineer? ZYKLON B...
rings a bell...
now... reengaging with people...
on a minor scale of what an army cohort
looks like...
i still feel ****** getting a chemistry
degree: not leaving school at 15 and joining the army...
then again... i really don't know what
i'd do with too much money:
you can always have too much money:
even if you earn... £15,000 a year...
i remember my student years back
in 2004 circa 2007 (circa, ergo, no hyphen +/-1
a year in the "bracket")
beside the student fee...
£3000 could easily cover the rent,
the food... the odd spontaneous going to
the cinema... the gym fee...
well, fair enough... as students... we weren't paying
council tax... but £3000 could cover a lot of things...
if we're talking earning... £15000...
and you take a Paulo Coelho approach
akin to: there's nothing to ******* find when
you get to the Giza pyramids... when you *******
to Brazil... you seen the world doesn't actually mean:
a local crack-head took you on
one of his ******* shimmy run...

i don't belong no more in Kenya than
a Kenyan belongs among the Hyperboreans...
sure... if he feels suicidal...
and abhors his people so much...
but look where Brexit left us...
all the Polacks suddenly didn't feel welcome...
not part of the multicultural project
of the implosive Empire as they might have
felt...
what English soldier ever fought
on the lands of Poland during the second world
war... yet... how many ****** pilots
fought for Britain?!
huh?! huh?!
history implies: people keep on forgetting...
the labour of love for us that love
to remember... like...
the world offers us rubrics borrowed from
school...
i don't mind an African trying to live
in Europe... but **** me:
you won't find me living in Africa
any time soon!
sure... the macaques are cute...
to hell with the heat!
no time soon!
i, need, seasons!
i need, eating, bland!
what, rosemary & rhyme not good enough,
for you, ******?!

smoked salmon managed to bench press
my liking for raw herring...
miss the raw cucumber, the dill, the mayo...
add some soft white cheese...
some lemon juice... keep the bagel...
now we have ourselves a sport!

the Polacks have left the shores...
hello tourists... your anti-racist rhetoric has
paid off!
i'm hardly native...
weren't your own natives...
your own fathers supposed
to bemoan the fate of your own daughters?!
you don't...
and... i'm... somehow... supposed to?
i'm much more invested in the men...
i need... rigidity... structure...
women always tend to **** it up: anyways...
some... amnesia principle...

FAUN:  WAINAMOINEN...
unplugged... "v"...
  NIRVANA's unplugged sessions...
choke... shotgun shot to the head..
Christine Chubbuck vs. the Court of Courting Blind...
rich Russian girls taking  picture of the pitch...
i'm standing in the middle...
i guess there's also me involved...

- from my hermit phase... being engaged with so many
people... esp. the children... oh god... i love the children...
for someone who enjoyed their absence from
society...
to be so, greedily... reengaged.... like a snap....
almost weird...
but... almost like: I: WANT: IT!
sure... i'm but a pawn in this role...
but... here's my excuse... i'm also anders-wo...
here's my antithesis of da-sein...
anders-wo...          am-ich?!

tid: til begynde! ja: nu! kvik!
tabt en time
tabt løs "næsten" alt...

         fanden du:                     ord så blød

KURWA MAĆ!

— The End —