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gracie  Sep 7
desdemona
gracie Sep 7
if all i did wrong in this lifetime
was trust you,
you will send me to my grave happily.
i.b.
Dearest E--,

"For she had eyes
and chose me"

I send
you a
small
lyric.

You
have
always
deserved
it.

“But I will wear
my heart upon my sleeve”

I take
this
play
& fit it
to my
need
this
Sunday,

my heart
a cuff,
shaking
with
morning,
affixed
with
a storm.

“I would not put a thief
in my mouth
to steal my brains.”

Your
voice
plays
among
my teeth,
& soon
my
thoughts
are your
rings,
Lorca's
green.

“Men should be
what they seem.”

"Our bodies are our gardens
to the which our wills are gardeners.”

My past,
with all
of its
attempts,
is as
naked
to you
as this
vein
that flees
my wrist.

In the
glass
you can
see me
whenever
you
choose,
even
though
my hair
waves
the
wrong
way
& my
olive
skin
dawns
with
ardor.

"To you I am bound
for life and education"

You
have the
scratch-map
to adventure -
you
journeyed
deep -
whereas
I spent
a life
burning,
'a trail
for the
devil to
erase.'

You are
a beam
let into
the rooms
of night.

I am
bound
like a
sailor
to the
mast.  

"Each second
stood heir
to the first"

Time
sips
from
each
glass,
moving
down
the line.

I miss
you,

Ever Yours,
Evan
MarieAnna Aug 2016
The Romeo to my Juliet

The Othello to my Desdemona

The Gatsby to my Daisy


There was always meant to be some tragedy in between, but things are destined.

Destiny is toxic

You do not plan you swing out into it anyway

No harness

Just madness

You fall deep into feeling

Adrenaline is reeling

Yet you do not know what the bottom of the feeling shall hold

The core what will it unfold?

You do not know what is behind the locked door.

But you will go in without armour anyway

You would risk your life today

For the sake of feelings

The feelings that often get washed away at the bay

North and North repel away
So why are you trying to come near
If I will just push you away dear

I like what is bad
I hate what is good

Stay away from me
Even if we somehow clicked like polar opposites should
stefan badham Nov 2017
Hell yeah!
that's wot we need!
Othello as a *****
A lesbian *****
Lickin Desdemona out
tungin out that *****
cos that's wot we need!
it's more alive!
for them modern crowds!
tacklin all dem issues
that affect us all right?
gender ecwalitty
homofobya
Yeah!
Yeah!
but don't stop there
amputee lesbian Othello!
wheelchair Othello!
Spastic Othello
black spastic Othello
whitey spastic Othello
No!
Othello woz black right?
don't change that bit!
that would be like just silly
wheelchair Romyo
played by a butch *****
callin up to Julyet
played by transqueen
let's get refuckinwrit
all that classic ****
it's too borin innit
no meanin anymore
rip it all up
**** on it
it's English innit
and that's *******
innit
CoolLen Aug 2018
O blessed night I am feared
For I am a black man who can't shake spears thrown at him on the daily.
High courts let us get clipped by Brutus- clipped by brutes in fact a loose noose can hang you from any platform
Oxygen doesn't transcend class
Eric wasn't the first nor last unable to Garner breath
I... Cant... Breath.
Bill Cosby's first words after sentencing
Sandra Bland's last thoughts before being propped up
I ride around my city feeling Gray inside, DEAD inside wondering if convenient transportation is worth my life.
Othello ruled this nation for eight years yet noble souls are still treated as peasants.
I mean if all the worlds a stage, then why do they play us only when we're players or when the play, us.
KJ Reed  Aug 29
The Garden
KJ Reed Aug 29
When there is a snake
stuck upon your roses,
hiding under strawberries,
hissing tales of thorns and rot,
cast out the snake
before burning your Eden
to the ground.
A reminder for times when people put down your work. Don't let them take what makes you happy. Get rid of their ability to affect you.
Donall Dempsey Sep 2018
AND TIME A THIEF

She hugged her books
to her *******.

Her ******* hardening into
her Othello and Algebra.

She watched his mouth
move

alive with words
she heard nothing of

only
her name

"...yadayadaMARY...
...yada yada MARY!"

A bead of sweat
trickled between her *******.

She tried to catch
her breath and

what he was saying but
it only gave her hiccups.

She squirmed
under his gaze

a butterfly
held by a pin

pleasure that was
pain.

"And that was how
I met your Dad!"

She tells this story
only when she's very very

tipsy
crying now

for the girl she was
- then:

the Shakespeare & Maths
pressed to her chest

the world
awaiting her.
THE NURTURE OF CULTURE

"Have you a working pulse...?"
he asks of his petunias.

They perk up at once
to Pericles.

"...she sent him away cold as a snowball..."
he whispers to his gladioli.

Once again the Pericles
does the trick.

They positively beam at him
eager for more Shakespeare.

"Oh yes...oh yes...flowers...!"
he pontificates

"...adore Shakespeare
especially Pericles and other minor plays

rather than the great Dane
or say Othello!"

I gasp hardly believing
the flower's Bardolatry.

The herbs prefer
Gilbert and Sullivan.

"Really...?"
A ha...be my guest!"

I tentatively  approach
a sprig of oregano.

It looks startled
being sung to!

"Poor wandering one
though you are sad and lonely...."
"

"No no my son...herbs
like to be spoken to...not sung!"

Ahem, I
try again.

"Poor wandering one
Though thou hast surely strayed..."

The oregano dances
in the breeze.

"Or sometimes my son
a little dash of Noël  Coward!"

"What compulsion compels them..."
I sing to the chives.

"And who the hell tells them!"
before being interrupted as before.

"No no my son
spoken not sung!"

"Why do the wrong people travel, travel travel
When the right people stay back home?"

"Excellent...excellent one
of their favourites!"

What could I say?
His voice provoked such a fecundity

that could not for a second
be doubted.

"Oh yes...oh yes when one talks
to one's garden one

must bear in mind
that flowers and herbs

prefer a little culture!"
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