I’m making money quoting Shakespeare smoke filled rooms a dim lit theatre I’m glad the man’s dead he’d be asking for part memorised in my head was drunk from his heart I’m making it by on a dead crowd stage I’m a poet making money on a dead man’s wage
I’ve played the scene in my head- Like the director's cut of his wife’s affair. The bitterness of the metal, The poisonous lead. The expense of myself- In a waste of pain. Suicide isn’t the only answer, It’s just the best option Out of a cesspool of ****** ones. Don’t tell me you’ll miss me if i’m dead- When you won’t talk to me if I'm alive.
ugggggh, y'all, breakups are messy as hell, 10/10 do not recommend ( I'm a poet and I didn't even know it, now I'm out of time, and I'd love to rhyme but I'm afraid that's a crime ;] )
Sonnet LXXV So are you to my thoughts as food to life, Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground; And for the peace of you I hold such strife As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found. Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure; Now counting best to be with you alone, Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure: Sometime all full with feasting on your sight, And by and by clean starved for a look; Possessing or pursuing no delight Save what is had, or must from you be took. Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, Or gluttoning on all, or all away. ~~~~~~~~ By:Shakespeare and rddjpc 75-present.
In memory of you beloved rddjoc-74-75/1995-2006 to present. I am thinking of you. The treasure was stollen i was all alone wolves all around sharks in my seas. the only way out was your love in me.
When you realize you’ll never seize the day, Never have the right things to say, Your judgments are always erroneous, You’re not Hamlet, but Polonius. When you know that even though all things end, It doesn’t help your torments mend, A dutiful advisor, Who is none the wiser. It must be so serene, Never having thought you might have been- “Neither a borrower nor lender be”; I say, yet fear both apply to me. “To thine own self be true”; ah! I must have missed that cue- And all do agree, The plot does not demand my soliloquy. Under all this weight so crushing, How I wish I could feel nothing. Of this at least I am certain: My death will be veiled behind a curtain.
Hamlet is my favorite Shakespeare play, and I wanted to write from Polonius’POV