TO: romeo
you could’ve loved me but you didn’t and that kind of ******
TO: romeo
i wish we could go back to when we were still possible
TO: romeo
i’d rather be just friends with you than nothing
TO: romeo
see, we only worked when the gravity wasn’t on
TO: romeo
see, i could only love you from 5000 miles away
and we’ll always have the last city we trampled through
TO: romeo
see, i loved you, on other continents and always at the wrong time
TO: romeo
see, i’m not sure i loved you because now looking at you is like disconnect
and maybe i just wanted you because i felt so small,
without a hand to hold under
the heavy weight of history crushing in around us
TO: romeo
see, you make me feel like i’m eleven again,
listening to “you belong with me” by taylor swift and wondering
is that what love’s really like?
not realizing that the girl in the video was wondering the same thing
TO: romeo
so “if you’re wondering if i want you to;
i want you to, i want you to, i want you, dude, i always do.”
TO: romeo
i can’t listen to weezer without thinking of you
TO: romeo
i have this bad habit of tangling up the things i love with people i’m trying to,
i have this bad habit of ruining them that way
TO: romeo
i want custody of our song back  
i want you out of the baseline, hiding underneath the notes

romeo is bleeding but not so as you'd notice
he's over on 18hh street as usual
lookin' so hard
against the hood of his car
and puttin' out a cigarette in his hand
and for all the pachucos at the pumps
at romeros paint and body
they all seein' how far they can spit
well it was just another night
but how they're huddled in the brake lights
of a 58 belair
and listenin' to how romeo killed a sherrif his knife

and they all jump when they hear the sirens
but romeo just laughs
and says all the racket in the world
ain't never gonna save that coppers ***
he'll never see another summertime
for gunnin' down my brother
and leavin' him like a dog beneath a car without his knife

and romeo says hey man gimme a cigarette
and they all reach for their pack
and frankie lights it for him
and pats him on the back
and throws bottle at a milk truck
and as it breaks he grabs his nuts
and they all know they could be just like romeo
if they only had the guts

but romeo is bleeding
but nobody can tell
and he sings along with the radio with a bullet in his chest
and he combs back his fenders and they all agree its clear
that every thing is cool now that romeos here
but romeo is bleeding and he winces now and then
and he leans against the car doors
and feels the blood in his shoes
and someones crying in the phone booth at the 5 points by the store
romeo starts his engine and wipes the blood off the door
and he brodys through the signal
with the radio full blast
leavin' the boys there hikin' up there chinos
and they all try to stand like romeo
beneath the moon cut like a sickle
and they're talkin' now in spanish about there hero

but romeo is bleeding
as he gives the man his ticket
and he climbs to the balcony at the movies
and he'll die without a wimper
like every heros dream
just like an angel with a bullet
and cagney on the screen

Romeo fought in a battlefield..
Won himself titles and golds
A standing ovation, applause and praises to Romeo ,
People bowed with great respect...
Walking proudly with his head held high...
ROMEO... Known to the world as a fighting HERO.

With one strong hand holding a sword..
And another arm hugging his trophy..
ROMEO was proudly declared as the conquerer of the world..

Countless of wars he won...
Thousands pieces of lands he conquered
Houses were burnt down
Women were captured, ***** and murdered..
Hundreds of children were made orphans
Families were torn apart...
Despite the talked about bravery and persona
Indeed ROMEO was a murderer ..
a blood thirsty serial killer....
So Romeo must die....

Once upon a time in history..
A great fierce man called ROMEO
Of all the battles he fought, he won..

One last battle he did lose
A piece of heart he failed to win
The heart of a woman he desired..
Imagine a disgrace of The world toughest man
Succumbed to His greatest weakness ,
Melted his cruel evil heart..
Begging for The love of his life...
A woman he truly loved ...
ROMEO ... A man she truly despised...
.. a total rejection what a shame..
Depressed... ROMEO lost the thirst to try...
SO ROMEO MUST DIE......

He thinks he is DON WAND
A kid Romeo believing he is the man to look upon
He has a forbidden romance scorecard
Doesn’t understand true love
The Little Romeo thinks he is every Woman’s dream to think of
He breaks woman’s hearts
Never finishes what he starts
Yet when woman see Little Romeo, it becomes a depart
Little Romeo calls himself “Romance”
Yet he adds “Chance”
Little Romeo wants to advance
Fat Chance
It becomes for Little Romeo to love
Nothing really to think of
Little Romeo really doesn’t know
He needs someone to show
Little Romeo chants
Woman call it cheat
It sounds more like deceit
Woman trick Little Romeo at his own game
He becomes the woman’s prey to tame
Little Romeo’s mission is totally lame
Grow Up
Understand what love is
Know exactly what you want
Just let Chemistry take its course
Be yourself, and not pretend to be somebody else
Love will help you find your way
Little Romeo, that is the best advice, and you will be ok

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.

Romeo, Romeo, you ain't my Prince Charming
Time to wake up, time to stop dreaming
I was too blindly in love, that I just couldn't see
That Romeo, my dear, you never loved me.
 
Deceived and betrayed, my heart is in two
Feeling like it's always the day of April's Fool
So dear sweet Romeo, just watch me crash and burn
Besides, I know you think that it's none of your concern.
 
Romeo, Romeo, didn't you know I loved you?
Didn't you know I'd do most anything for you?
Now dear Romeo, it's too late, I'm gone.
It's been long, but now, my heart must move on.

Juliet said to Romeo
‘I don’t like your hair!’
And Romeo said to Juliet
‘Well I don’t really care!’
Then Juliet said to Romeo
‘Don’t talk to me like that!’
And Romeo said to Juliet
‘Sorry baby J, I’ll buy myself a hat!’
Juliet smiled all sweetly
‘That would be a start’
Romeo replied to Juliet
‘You have evil in your heart!’
Juliet gave him a scowl
‘You know that isn’t true!’
Romeo looked all sheepish
‘I know thats not true too’
Juliet kissed his cheek
‘Your a dream, that’s what you are’
Romeo went red faced
‘I’m embarrassed, my little star’
Juliet gave him a hug
‘You’ll definitely do for me’
Romeo squeezed her all lovingly
‘Make us a cup of tea’

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…

I'm usually not the type to throw shade
But darling you need to get the hell over yourself

If life was a play, you would be cast as the tree even though
You can swear that you and C are like Romeo and Juliet.
You're no Romeo and he's no Juliet.
He's not going to fall for you like in the story books.

Actually, no. If you COULD be Romeo, it would be as follows:

You're the Romeo and he's the Rosaline
And like Romeo, you don't even know what love is.
You say you're in love but in the words of shakesphere, you're "out of love". Romeo didn't truly know love until someone loved him back. At least Romeo admits in the end that he never knew what love really was until he met Juliet.

But you? You "love"someone that doesn't love you back, but you don't even know what love is. Just admit it to yourself, pull a Romeo learn to get the **** over it. He ******* to benvolio a little, then moped for a while, which is fine, and put himself back out there. He actually listened to his friends' advice and fell in love with the beautiful Juliet. Take notes, *******.

Your "love" is Rosaline, and he doesn't love you. Get over it. Romeo did... But then again. you're no Romeo. You're a tree who thinks everyone's looking at him when really they couldn't give less ***** that you're even there.

Step off your ******* high horse before squad pulls a Brutus and Cassius and stabs you to death. That's the onlycase where I think you deserve to be the main role, babe.

Romeo, oh Romeo
Wherefore art thou Romeo?
I friended you on Facebook an hour ago
and I saw you tweeted recently, so...

Romeo, oh Romeo
I can see you're location with these iPhone apps
And I e-mailed thee this route from Yahoo maps
so you should of been here, but perhaps...

Romeo, oh Romeo
I stare at your picture in utter torment
because you deleted my Myspace comment
I know! I'll text bomb your phone 'till ye repent!

Romeo, oh Romeo
They say stalkers should feel ashame'
Thy parents say I only have myself to blame
I say deny thy father, and...(oooh, I just Googled thy name)

Bank,
took away my tract-home-house, got divorced from my last cheatin’ spouse

Laid-of from my company job, all I get to eat is corn-on-the-cob

Get evicted cant pay no rent
Rains too **** much to pitch me a tent

Kinfolk don’t  like the mess I’m in, so I became a bohemian . . .

Trailer Home Romeo, I’m a trailer **-home romeo

Kinfolk don’t  like the shape Im in, so I drink with trailer park beer drinkin men !

Pay Taxes that I owe?  Hell No !  I’m a bohemian on the go a trailer **-home romeo!

Bought me an old F-150 Ford, at least I ain’t got no **** landlord

I cash in cans I find on the ground, easy work get paid by the pound
Can’t buy me no tonic and Gin like the rich Good-Sam suburbians

I fix my own truck rent-a-wreck, told I don’t qualify for no welfare check
Afriad to go outside in the day for a jog, got bit last week by the neighbors dog

Can’t track me down, I’m always on the go, move down south if it starts to snow!
Move when I want don’t have to hesitate, hitch-up my truck and relocate

My left tire just fell-apart so I propped it up with a K-mart shopping cart

Got me a bottle of Jim Beam to pamper, might get drunk but I’m a happy Camper !

Kinfolk don’t  like the mess I’m in, so I became a bohemian . . .
Trailer Home Romeo, I’m a trailer **-home romeo

Kinfolk don’t  like the shape I’m in, so I drink with trailer park beer drinkin men !

Pay Taxes that I owe? 

... Hell No !  

I’m a bohemian on the go a trailer **-home romeo!


© David Wayne Clare   In Perpetuity - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Clairvoyant Music / BMI

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.

Elise
and
Romeo
got on the bus.

Elise carried a cake
with a thousand red
ribbons
dripping like
loose ***** lips,
or so they appeared to Romeo.

Romeo came on with
a hard-on
on his face,
or so it appeared to Elise.

"I don't want
any other man
over at my
house,
I don't care if he's your cousin,
you hear me?"

Elise let out a silver snarl.

"I'm not playing with you
woman."

Elise's whispers
wavered between razor-thin roses
and soft spikes.

"I love you
Romy,
but you're on some
other,
I ain't seen a man
in a while,"

The roses that break the skin,
the spikes
that blunt the pain.

"Oh that's how it is?"

"It has to be."

Elise
carried the cake off.

Romeo
got stuck with the cart
full of groceries,
and three wheels missing,
just dragging
the thing.

Elise strutted like fat *******
strut.

Romeo called after her
about other men,
other men,
other men
that had been in his house
without him knowing,
he hated and loved her,
dragging all the sustenance
in the world
behind him.

Elise loved him too,
loved him
even when she was with
other men,
and that's the thing
he couldn't figure
out.

Love is a hard thing
to deal with
for anybody.

You dot the i's
and call yourself  
modern day romeo
coming to sweep me off my feet
coming to zap my heart
with lightening bolts
of awareness
awareness of you

Yet you never once
told me a poem
melted my heart with haiku's
or moved me with impossibilities

Never once has it occurred to you
that capulets and montagues don't click
because you always had your way
you're a modern day romeo
full of narcissistic poison
melting off your logic
revealing every chiseled muscle
that you think
will make your Juliets
melt

Oh romeo, romeo
where for art thou?
Show these modern newbies
the ways of articulation
the ways of seducing without the flesh
the ways of making eyes glow

oh romeo,
where for art thou
for the romance
I seek
is long
forgotten

gorgeous face struck by the silver moon
mirrored fate is intertwining soon
he won't try to whistle a new tune
his choices are dryer than the dunes

he wonders why his heart is of gloom
when he wears all his finest perfumes
so a golden coffin was exhumed
but Romeo couldn't make his blood bloom

drowned for his reflection in the pool
he let his love for his picture rule
just to prove that he's nobody's fool
Romeo loved Romeo, a love so cruel

i.

your love is like that
of romeo and juliet.
you fit perfectly,
like puzzle pieces,
and despite the raging seas,
you both man the sails
of your eager ship.

ii.

the night sky
is empty,
for all the stars are now in your eyes.
and you have all the blueprints planned out
as though you've forgotten that life
is not a house.

you keep on running,
as though you've forgotten that life
is not a track.

you keep on loving,
as though you've forgotten that life
spares no one

(not romeo, not juliet).


iii.**

and just like romeo,
and his dear juliet,
in the end,
you will both come crashing down.

(a.m.)

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 romeo on fire
his heart ablaze with the glory of being in love
his mind fixed upon beauty of her presence
dances with his future in the balance so precarious
lounge with style was the way to be or so he would say
better to be relaxed and let it all flow whichever way
cause nothing matters much but the love
yes nothing but love
dealing the cards with such style
dealing the days with such finesse
and oh the nights
when it was all glittering lights
when it was all just him and her out on the dance floor
smooth so skilled with his moves
a romeo on fire
his burning loves light up the night for every lonely girl
his passion play makes them believe they will be hollywood starlets
in the shadows his is the place for the girls to be
but morning light will reveal his hollow words
morning light will reveal his dark world
a romeo on fire fades away before the dream can come true
leaves the girls crying  
romeo oh romeo where for art thou?

lovestruck Romeo sings the streets of serenade
Laying everybody low with a love song that he made
Finds a convenient streetlight steps out of the shade
Says something like you and me babe how about it?
Juliet says hey it's Romeo you nearly gimme me a heart attack
He's underneath the window she's singing hey la my boyfriend's back
You shouldn't come around here singing up at people like that
Anyway what you gonna do about it?
Juliet the dice were loaded from the start
And I bet and you exploded in my heart
And I forget I forget the movie song
When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?
Come up on different streets they booth were streets of shame
Both ***** both mean yes and the dream was just the same
And I dreamed your dream for you and now your dream is real
How can you look at me as if I was just another one of your deals?
When you can fall for chains of silver you can fall for chains of gold
You can fall for pretty strangers and the promises they hold
You promised me everything you promised me thick and thin
Now you just say oh Romeo yeah you know I used to have a scene with him
Juliet when we made love you used to cry
You said I love you like the stars above I'll love you till I die
There's a place for us you know the movie song
When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong Juliet?
I can't do the talk like they talk on TV
And I can't do a love song like the way it's meant to be
I can't do everything but I'd do anything for you
I can't do anything except be in love with you
And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be
All I do is keep the beat and bad company
All I do is kiss you through the bars of Orion
Julie I'd do the stars with you any time
Juliet when we made love you used to cry
You said I love you like the stars above I'll love you till I die
There's a place for us you know the movie song
When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong Juliet?
A lovestruck Romeo sings the streets of serenade
Laying everybody low with a love song that he made
Finds a convenient streetlight steps out of the shade
Says something like you and me babe how about it?
You and me babe how bout it?

(Solitary Chamber. Heart breaking melodious music is flowing silently. Young Ren is looking pale, soliloquizing.)

Young Ren:  Sweet Flance!
                     Can you hear me?
                     I do know you can never see me now;
                     But hear me --- my words at least!

Feel my heart that hangs on nothing;
Yet resting itself on my unrequited love.
  
                     Hear me! Do hear me!

Send thy spirit unto me awhile,
And hearken my silent words.

                     Dear Flance!
Thou must be now with thy partner
Breaking thy footprints with me once;
Yet ne'er am I angry with thee.
From him I should not take thee away;
Yet listen unto me awhile.

                      Dear Flance!

I loved thee not at the very first sight
Like Orlando and Rosalind ---
Orlando was a wrestler,
Rosalind was a fair lady.

Their love began at an arena in a contest ---
Rosalind in the guise of Ganymede,
Their love passed thro' rustic lands
Symbolizing the art of Nature,
Their love stirred the young hearts
With wonder and fancy.

Sweet Flance!
                       Romeo died of Juliet and Juliet of Romeo ---
                        Breaking endurance to chaos.
                       There was poison in their love.
Dear Flance!
                       Jealousy lingered in the fatal love
                       Betwixt Othello and Desdemona,
                       At night their love was born,
                       At night their love was dead
                       When blackened by the candle light.
Dear Flance!
                        Lysander loved Hermia
                        And sought fanciful beings
                        For their fanciful union.
Dear Flance!
                       Know you, Keats died of consumption?
                      His love for ***** Brown was limitless,
                      And so burst into tears.
                      Oh! No!
                     MY love for thee can never have comparisons.
Sweet Flance!
                     Blossomed my love for thee
                    When thou wert young,
                     When thou wert beautiful;
                     Yet it's not of Romeo's,
                     Of Othello's,
                     Of Lysander's,
                     Of Dante's,
                     Of Keats',
                     For they died of their love.





My love for thee be unrequited; yet ineffable.
You felt not my love; yet I cannot be Romeo.
Know you?
                Romeo loved Juliet,
                Juliet loved Romeo,
                And so they died without love.
Loved I thy heart, not thee?
Love I thy heart, not thee?
And so,
             We live in remembrance of each other.
Dear Flance!  
              Thou must be now living with thy partner
               Rejoicing in his presence.
               Can you think of me living myself.
               Rejoicing in my thoughts of you?
               Here am I in the air with wings waxed;
              Yet I'll not fall down to fragments.

              Know you?  
              I am to lead my life myself,
              But with thoughts of you!

              For
                    Loved I thee, still I love thee,
                                           Ever I'll love thee.

(Young Ren sheds tears)

Sweet Flance!

My tears are not of my loneliness sans thee;
But born of bliss within me with thoughts of you.

              (Curtain  Falls)

ROMEO &
...MARY.

Romeo and
Juliet?

Romeo and Juliet
....is it?

Sure isn't that all
I ever hear!

That Shakespeare has a lot
to answer for!

See how he stitched up
that poor Richard the **** chap!

He can give a body
the ****

so he
can!

Twisting everything
into that Möbius strip

imagination of
his!

I got my Romeo
fair and square

...so I did!

Yeah yeah, I know
he still carries a torch

"Oh Juliet Juliet wherefore
art thou Juliet."

he cries
out in his sleep.

But, I don't care where
he gets his appetite

as long as he
eats at home!

Sometimes in the midst
of our...eh...great passions

he will call her
name instead

of mine
that filthy little swine.

Sometimes his mind will
even wander back to

to....what's her
face...oh...Rosalind.

Juliet married
Paris in Paris

had ten kids
lost her fine figure

ran to fat
imagine that!

I'd like to see her teach
the torches to burn bright

ha ha
nowadays!

And that, was( despite what
rot was wrote): THAT!

Rosalind had many many
husbands

none of them
her own!

Died of the pox
had it coming to her.

Me & my
hubby still

going strong
50 years married

this forthcoming
July now

put that in
your new biography

and tell it how
it is.

Romeo &
Mary Kathleen Priscilla O' Keefe.

Romeo, can't you see?
She doesn't deserve you d̶o̶ ̶I̶?̶
She doesn't deserve how you replay your memories of her:
How her lips felt upon yours
The way the sound of her laughter echoes e̶c̶h̶o̶e̶s̶ e̶c̶h̶o̶e̶s̶ e̶c̶h̶o̶e̶s̶
The way her hand fits yours
How your world revolved around her
Stop, she isn't yours anymore

Romeo, can't you see?
She took a part of you when she left
Leaving behind shattered pieces of your barely beating heart
Can't you see?
She is the epitome of a lie
Toxic that takes over the blood in your veins

Romeo, can't you see?
You're killing me
Your words like shattered glass upon my bleeding heart
Your doubts and insecurities, the sight of your misery, torturing me
You are more than enough
You deserve more m̶o̶r̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶n̶ ̶I̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶ ̶g̶i̶v̶e̶
Maybe love wasn't meant for me but it was for you
M̶y̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶r̶t̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶s̶

Romeo, can't you see?
How mesmerizing your smile is
How it would light up the whole universe and you wouldn't even notice
How the sound of my name rolls off your tongue like honey
How I feel the entire zoo in my stomach with just one look
How much you're affecting me
Can't you see how madly in love I am?
C̶a̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶?̶

Romeo, can't you see?
I̶’̶d̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶J̶u̶l̶i̶e̶t̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶a̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶r̶t̶b̶e̶a̶t̶.̶

For mine you were, and yours was I,
for the feelings hidden, that will never fade.

For the distance traveled, and moments shared,
for the secrets, the lips would kiss away.

For Romeo loved Juliet.

But feelings changed, and life must go on,
like Shakespeare said, Romeo went first.

So, just like Romeo and Juliet, however different,
for Romeo feels peace, while Juliet mourns.

It shouldn't have, but alas, it had,
and it left our poor Capulet sad.

Just like Romeo and Juliet...

before i pull this one out of my *** (again - listen, these words are not coming from either head or heart, it's best to pull them from the bowels, a gut-wrenching-feeling is more potent than that "something" that "something" delusional pulled from a clenched heart... as far as i know, the brain is incapable of emotions, it doesn't understand them, and since it doesn't understand them: it ridicules them)... which brings me to point:

(a) perhaps the idea of a soul is out-dated... why wouldn't it be, 21g worth of breath does not equal a soul... hence the autopsy of man, each detail studied seperately, the cardiologist knows the heart, the neurologist the brain etc., but some items work in a solipsistic mode... the heart is robotic, automaton pump queen (and not the kind of pump you'd get from Shveeden) - thump thump thump! come to think of it, most of our bodies are robotic, automated... lucky for me: i don't have to think about the heart doing what it does, it just per se does it... i'm not even sure i'm gifted with the a.i. brain functions... but there's an underlying principle that governs all of these items... some call it the self... i prefer: the Σ ultimatum... some would call it soul... but there has to be something akin to the Σ ultimatum that allows me to become detached from this body, while at the same time be bound to it: high blood pressure, heart attack on the horizon... take the high blood pressure pills... ****... what was (b)? oh... yes...

(b) i'm sorry, virginity doesn't cut it for me, lucky me that it was isabella of grenoble that allowed me to move aside from: god, prior to losing my virginity.... roxette: do you feel excited, you're still the one (shanaia twain), fade to black - metallica... i was such a romantic before i lost this dreaded curse... i was a romantic... 19th century style romanticism... but you really can see past this sort of romanticism unless you haven't ******... these days the right complains about cultural marxism: plenty of things to complain about... it makes as much sense as a pickle in a dollop of custard... or cooking with pale indian ale to make a stew: bad idea... wine, brandy, cider? fine... beer? terrible idea to cook with... but unless you haven't lost your virginity, you can't see what cultural marxism chose as its opponent: cultural darwinism... you know how little you hear about darwinism outside of the english speaking world? zero to none, yes, it's an accepted fact, but this fact does not permeate outside of the fact per se, the fact contains itself and the whole subsequent narrative because subconsciously stored... no other people than the people who found it ensure there are subplot proof statements of a reconfirmation of the validity... the whole social science bogus trap of rating people on looks... contradicting the meritocracy of that old Socratic saying: let me be as beautiful on the inside as on the outside... if you haven't ******: you're still the same old romantic i was at puberty... once you ****... well... cultural marxism dwarfs... yes yes it's there... so? but at the same time you can at least appreciate seeing the antithesis: cultural darwinism... the romantic needs to die the most carnal death via experience... all my ideals were shattered, this perfection of woman... i very much liked the idea / not even the ideal of a woman... but when the idea fizzled out and there was no ideal to begin with... i saw cultural darwinism for the very first time and... it was as ugly as cultural marxism so heavily criticized by the conservative right of the west... so... i decided to walk the middle ground, ignoring both sides (of the argument).

(c) i wouldn't have come up with a point see, unless my favorite square schematic didn't pop into my mind, Kantian, as ever: the best philosophy is the antithesis of English pragmatism and overt-politicisation, so it has to be German, ergo? i will not explain these terms, i figured: if i nail a decent example to fit each category, that's enough: since you can then visualize the concept via the example:

analytical a priori                           synthetic a priori
there's a need to throw                   learning
a ball at                                                to throw a ball
a target                                                 at a target once
                                                            ­  the need has been
                                                            ­  established...



synthetic a posteriori                    analytical a posteriori
there's a  need to                           perfecting to throw
      throw a ball at                               a ball at a target
a target, in order
to perfect this need...

                                            baseball..­. cricket...
at least: that's how i define knowledge of something
simple without having to use mathematics
that Kant used to explain... 2 + 2 = 4...
mathematics isn't exactly a man's best friend
at explaining philosophy...
you write philosophy that alligns itself
to mathematics... no wonder: moths in books...
yawns, unfinished works...
i found that sports work just as well
as mathematics... and you have the already
primitive objects to work with...
rather than pseudo-objects: i.e. numbers...
the abstracts of perception: i'm actually 6ft2...
not 6ft1... karolína plíšková is 6ft1...
       as noted when watching her today...

  i'll admit, i'm always a bit shaky when it comes
to this sqaure, whether it's over-simplified,
notably the top left corner: analytical a priori,
i'm always of a mindset that wants to associated
this definition with: analytical a- priori...
  i.e. borrowing from atheism:
    to analyse something without there
being a prior to example...
               analysis without a prior example...
i guess that's the mojo of science... the driving force...
back to sports... bow and arrow...
   tools: target...
       whether a bow and arrow and a deer
to begin with...
or a hand and ball and a wicket to end with...

there's a need to throw                  
a ball at a target...

            and cricket was the precursor of
baseball, but prior to cricket?
   there was archery...
              and prior to archery...
   there was forever a fundamental need,
e.g. to go from point X to point Z...
   see... as much as Kant wanted...
   numbers don't really solve the "problem"
of explaining something: algebra would be
better suited... x + y = z...
                    with numbers either hovering
above, or below (in the instance of chemistry's
subscript)...

talking of squares... sūdoku...
well, if at any time the french were to receive a hard-on
in terms of inventing something,
the english: rugby, cricket, football, tennis...
the french really did read some of the hebrew
qabbalah literature, as i am doing...
magic squares...
       the secular version of this puzzle
first appeared on july 6, 1895 (the modern version)...

it came to us from India and China...
again... why do western cultural darwinists
always tell our genesis from
the perspective of: "out of Africa"?
aren't there elephants in India?
            i will not believe i originated in Africa,
i'm not an "out of Africa" sorry state of
incompetence... i place my origins in
the sub-continent... at least that's where my
current language originates from...
the great migration across the Siberian tundra,
rather than some African savannah...
after all the Bangladeshi and the Sri Lankans
(the tear of India) resemble burnt cinnamon
in tone, some even as dark skinned as
east africans...
   if the germanic people want to stick to
the "out of Africa" narrative (notably the English):
let them have it... i place my origins in
India...

   never mind, now i'll write a name's dropping
history of how july 6th, 1895 happened...
the "magic" squares...

    from either India or China (chess from India)...
moschopulus of contantinople
  introduced them (the "magic" squares)
in the early 1400s... apparently ancient qabbalists
had knowledge of them
  (so... a trip well spent)...
                             rabbi joseph tzayah (1505 - 1573)
magnum opus: responsa...
             rabbi joseph castro: avkat rokhel...
tzayah in jerusalem wrote his major work
Evven HaShoham (the onyx stone) - 1538 -
   a year later the book: tzeror ha-chaim discussing
the Talmud: he never really bothered about
the Zohar...
               the hebrai word for "letters": otiot...
divided into two:
                         tav aleph (a line of aleph)
and tav yod (a line of yod)...
                   one is to never concentrate
upon the keter within the realm of the sefirot...
hence the matisyahu expression:
   king without a crown...
                         one example of a "magic" square
later dictated into a 9 x 9 newspaper puzzle?
      2     9     4
      7     5     3
      6     1     8     (up down across = 15...
my date of birth? 15th may 1986,
no coincidence, just stating an oblivion's
worth of a "point)... 15 x 3 = 45...
   and that's about as significant as any
                               insignificance can be...

album of choice?
    old horn tooth - from the ghost grey depths...

and without even associating the arabs
to the hebrai practice of gamatria,
i once inquired an old pakistani (who tried to convert me)
what: Alif, Lam, Meem
implied in the opening of the al-baqarah sutra
implied?
   he replied: god knew...
        so i thought, you don't know what
alif (letter) what lam (letter) and meem (also a letter)
means? you have to search for god
for the answers? good look making me into
a proselyte... mind you:
if the jews abhor proselytes,
while the muslims are so so oh so *******
welcoming... isn't that a tad bit suspicious?
how can a muslim convert me
when he can't explain to me what
alif lam and meem implies at the opening
of al-baqarah?!
            let's play some hijāʾī order game...
and the three letters...
       28 letters in total...
alif (28), lam (6), meem (5)...
    i'm not even going to go into the gamatria
mental gymnsastics related to any
"significance"...
   point was made upon the question being
asked... if a muslim tries to covert you...
and he can't explain to you
the significance of alif lam meem at the beginning
of al-baqarah... they're letters...
well... how is he going to explain to you
what's bothersome about those letters
to begin with? ALM... does that imply: zakat?!
to give alms? zakat being one of the pillars
of islam?
  **** me... i haven't even converted
and it would appear: i know more than the person
who tried to convert me!

.i. Yuri Gagarin and the yo-yo

if ever the potency of a "keyboard crusader"
existed, it's now -
   i can dangle a mouse above a bear-trap
and tell an elephant of a phobia concerning
mice any day of the week,
          when in fact i'm talking about
a mousetrap: nothing more.
     hence the exaggeration in the imagery
comparison:
        or it begins with a story told in the 20th
century:
             when women put down their mascara
brushes, men put down their swords:
never mind the voice in the wilderness:
       mind the voice in the crowd -
there's absolutely no reason to speculate
urbanity and tribal environments without
addressing, or regressing the crowd,
or as i like to call it: what Nietzsche said,
minus the Wake... but now inclusive of the wake
and the Bacchus cult of fun fun fun.
            the Wake in condor terms?
we congregate praying for something to die...
      i don't pretend to be whatever
that sachet of concrete-Cartesian labels entitles me
too:        for the most part
        people say 'i am' without a thought to
govern the rain shaman telling you what thought
is required to 'be', oh, a very old ontological
stipend: you need people to experience a collectivisation,
a herding, a "bound together" sort of mentality
before the critic arrives and says: well, that's not
what i'm really about.
                    a bit like the **** firs, mouth second
debacle...
                but what heart they had, our predecessors!
what heart!
             they'd wage war over a woman,
a Helen,
                  would you wage a war against
the feminist version of Helen these days?
would you pluck a Scottish thistle over an English rose?
      true: you might be a bishop
and of lesser rank... but would you wage a war
over the women of these days?
my **** is in a pickle jar anyway! we have become
a *** of a species unburdened by an obligation...
             finally! we can become eternal bachelors
sort of ******* that we're here, and hear less and less
of sayings about the "things that matter".
            you know what vile? really really vile?
oh i know my contemporaries when i bother to
hear them talk, oddly enough never bother when they
think, i'm quiet content with a Godot stage of
a park bench and an old man as my company,
      i know Douglas Murray,
               i know the wild-eyed Icke,
but a thing that concerns me is why: the safety room
parallel to the leftist thesis of offensive speech
was put in play when a discussion took off
concerning feminism, between milo yiannopoulus
and julie bindel - that's like saying:
ask a pederast to talk for a heterosexual man
with a woman safe-space...
                                no one wants to hear
the heterosexual side of the argument....
  you'll sooner see heterosexual intellects have their
marriages come undone then get paired with either
side of the argument...
     little richard is in the pickle jar anyway,
and he's not coming out...
                it's a bit like ****** for dummies....
       hence i have to succumb to violence without
the glory, tongue waggling blah blah
when i'd gladly take a weapon and shove it into
a shattered cranium bone: had i the ****** chance to
do so!
           no heterosexual is taken seriously:
and won't be:
    of a woman to be like a rosy cushion on which
i can lay my head after the darkly toils of
    roofing, or laying bricks, or excavating the sewers...
no! let the Chinese do that:
the basic argument of slavery, although imported
therefore ****** ******* fine.
                         cryogenic fathers,
      pickled *****:      where's the middle in all of this?
     a coconut just fell from the Boddhi tree:
money!           and those that defend it,
don't know squat about the tribalism of squatters!
but hey! they have the ****** stage!
         i have a bench when someone approaches me
and talk, doing the best thing possible:
               knitting opinions -
i don't want the truth of opinions: i want a sweater,
or a pair of socks! that's metaphor for something
different altogether.
  keyboard crusader? really? can i ask you for
directions to the high street, in every single town
across the country? i can't find one!
         no one hears a heterosexual argument
on the various topics: because there isn't one -
                     as of the end of the 20th century,
working classes in the west striving to ensure
there is something mundane to do during the day
and kick back with the family in the evening
are the "inferior" neanderthals: who
haven't jacked into discovering a 3D reality
of what's otherwise a 2D computer screen and
aren't hooked on #crack;
honestly, so much debating ought to be opera,
and so much opera ought to be debating -
    ah: that famous tingle of utopian paradoxes
never in duality, but always in dichotomy.
   keyboard crusader?
really? i thought people were always moaning
about how many emails they receive:
   and never a single postcard from, say,
someplace like Venice?
           it's still early days,
                   and already we're brewing enough
cliches to replace all known nouns in
    the surrogate mother that's the dictionary
of our completed version of a soul -
if ever to be experienced upon meeting the omni-vocabulary;
jigsaws, i know my idiosyncratic version
of events, he says photosynthesis within parameters
                            of photon deconstruction of hydrogen;
'cos' it's sub; d'uh! i say god i say this perfected
version of nearing telepathy - you say god i hope you
don't mean satan's clause - great anagram to frighten
children with: the Babushka surprise of a Pumpkin head
laughing it's way toward: how easy life would be
if we had all that time to think it through as being hard,
rather than that mortal fleetingness in both thought
and body.

ii. Macbeth

it really dawned on me, when i was watching the film
Macbeth (2015) -
            there was an eeriness to it, a near perfection
of Shakespeare on screen...
           honestly? i'd rather read Kant early on in life
while i have the vigour, and leave old age to Shakespeare...
but it truly was eerie all over the place.
      i do recall seeing Romeo + Juliet
          and reading the script, and imagining the fallacy
of word for word translation from theatre to cinema
of the script: the narrator a news channel anchor,
and everything said, word, for, word.
that film with DiCaprio as Romeo and Claire Danes
as Juliet - it just felt itchy, uncomfortable -
                            Shakespeare, word for word, on screen?!
     (surprise, then astonishment, not !? or astonishment,
   then the surprise, because: it didn't really work);
and it didn't! you can't adapt Shakespeare to the screen
and put everything in! i noticed it at that ******
generous scene in Macbeth concerning the battle
of Ellon... so i was like like... this isn't typescript...
(and thank **** it isn't) -
you can't depict Shakespeare word for word,
to be honest, Macbeth (2015) is the only worthy
translation of Macbeth (the text) into Macbeth (the movie);
all this scientific exactness in previous examples
like Romeo + Juliet, the Merchant of Venice
and a Midsummer's Night Dream don't work,
it's their precision making,
     a theatre cast can take it, but a cinema going crowd,
with all these cutting and copying and repasting
    succinct moments? it doesn't work!
maybe because there's no actual narrator in the staged
examples? narrator as a necessary character understudy:
surely Puck and the news anchor are there:
don't know about the Shylock scenario...
           but these screen adaptations didn't work for me,
too rigid, too formal... in the case of Macbeth?
finally! the long awaited piquant version of Shakespeare:
all that matters, and the rest is thrown into
poetic technique: imagery, metaphor,
                everything that's necessary can be given grammar
as image and not word!
       want an example? from the text...
the Royal Shakespeare
  from the text of Professor Delius
  and introduction by f. j. Furnivall, ll.d.
         vol. v (special edition)
Cassell & Company, Ltd.
        sure, it feels like a Roman Polanski moment
akin to the 9th Gate scenic affair of a bibliophile
fetishist, and it is:

     ... (the only enemy of enso poetry
is the bladder) ...

well the screen play first:

banquo: what are these?
macbeth: live you? or are you aught
                          that man may question?
       speak if you can - what are you?
1st witch: macbeth! hail to thee
                    thane of Glamis!
2nd witch: macbeth... hail to thee,
       thane of Cawdor!
3rd witch: all hail Macbeth! that shalt be king in-after.

but such disparity, such **** as if once
of Lucretia, then of the authority,
for i have before me the original composition:
which is not worth cinema -
nonetheless, a **** takes place:
an assortment for the abdication of a king:
or as ever suggested: the wrong footed path:
never was tossing a coin in a gamble
that of tossing a crown into the air
for a court jester to appear less amusing
and more scolding.

act i, scene iii: post the battle of ellon...
  if ever the refusal to give up Greek myth,
then Macbeth's witches
      and Perseus' Graeae -
                            or naturalise a myth:
like you might not naturalise a strengthened
economy.... canonise the nation
with Elgin Marbles - Elgin: less than
what's said to be the exfoliation of the Aegean -
a municipality somewhere in Scotland:
west of Aberdeen, on the Northern Sea's
battering of the coast...
but word for word? or how to write Shakespeare
into cinema?
                 herr zensor must come into play -
you have to bypass imagery in poetic tongue
and relay it with actual images, a direly needed
necessity:

just after the three witches arrive,
enter Macbeth and Bonquo...

   Macb. so foul and fair a day i have not seen.
Ban. how far is't call'd to Fores? - what are these,
     so wither'd and so wild in their attire,
that look not like th' inhabitants o' the earth,
   and yet are on 't?
             live you? or are you aught that man may
question?
                  (how word for word, but the words
waggle from a different tongue, namely that of
Macbeth, and not that of Banquo, hence
italicised).
                   continuing:
       you seem to understand me,
by each at once her choppy finger laying upon her
skinny lips: - you should be women, and yet your
beards forbid me to interpret that you are so.
Macb. speak, if you can - what are you?
         the witches. all hail, Macbeth!
     hail to thee, thane of Glamis!
         all hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane
of Cawdor!
         all hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter.
            
so does he really belong on the psychoanalytic
couch? is he really that necessarily wonton of talk?
  Cawdor v. Gondor - it's an ongoing narrative.
but is he in need of a couch?
                 what sort of talk is talk when
in fact the only talk that's need to be said is the talk
of man's sexualised naturalisation for strife,
and here: as if knocking on a door:
you want to simply hear the onomatopoeia of
the Kabbalah in a woman gasping for breath
while puny Jewish boys under strict rabbinical
studies study?

                mama, take this badge from  me,
i can't use it, anymore,
            it's getting dark, too dark to see,
feels like i'm knockin' on heaven's door -
      my big mouth and man as a piston
                                               Ferrari acrobat

(even the soundtrack is a shrill, a strangulation
variant of higher pitch of the bagpipes -
not that braveheart ****** of whisking out
a song like for the love of a princess addition to:
  and can i have a madonna to boot too?
it's piercing, a whale sonar above refrigerator
white noise hum for the new age Buddha -
and that's because all the poetry has been excavated
  to suit cinema: not theatre).

and this is the first adaptation of Shakespeare i actually
could stomach...
     the genius was in how Macbeth spoke the lines
of Bonqua - so the character didn't start smacking
the narrative ****** in terms of solipsism:
even Shakespeare can be attacked on this front...
        if in the movie Banqua said all that was in
the typescript: the film wouldn't have worked...
i don't know what the big deal is with Lady Macbeth:
i thought that in the olden days
Macbeth suggested to King Duncan that:
can i leave the warring if you **** my wife?
i can go on the contract that you **** my wife
and i stop serving you?
      first impressions: strange English.
well, i'm sure she's important as it might be said:
within the programme of Orthodoxy,
            but never catholic (metadoxy) tradition of
saying: way hey! ensnare the mare in a funfair!
       and play the game: pin the tale on the donkey!
heads or tails?      it looks pretty damnable
     in the first place: as all honesty hogs to pout and
***** a hoggish sneeze out of the story.

iii. shaken, not stirred

and indeed, how many a times
did not a neon blossom sprout,
thinking it might rattle an oratory
with an oak in autumn, and behold
a swarm of leaves descend -
not out of passing ease,
but out of wishful thinking
that some indentation might be made:
with whom the hands of will reside,
and yet: to no gratifying effect,
to whatever atomic-centralisation
dream, be that ego or be it hydrogen
(lending hands: so too
electric or thus negative, neutral and
thus proto) - shake foundation
and give a revising repertoire of
              the covering dust humanity
that once made famous: never
again to learn the humility of the start;
        to whatever centric dream that
does not waver in demands of orientation,
be it father (sun), son (shadow)
  or the holy spirit (night) -
  make them earn! be obscure!
            or simply say: in the community
of the stated congregation:
  i find all to be as night,
   and safer that plague the father:
  i am not akin to the shadow:
                   but the shadow in mirror.
so, a centric dream that does not
waver in demands for orientation,
has ever or will be enthroned in man's
heart as the stability of Sabbath's demands
       for less, oh so much less to agitate with!
as too, when the ancient appliances
were adorned by countless demands of
mimic, so too our modern
fibbles are to stage a usurping of
such things demanded and their mimic;
for with such disclosure does all fate
of anewed become burdened in what
history could be: shaken,
rather than simply a stirring of the void,
nothing more than the unburdening
of sweetening a cup of coffee, of that and
the layers: or bitter at the top, drank
through toward the sedimented sweetness -
and all that: hoping i could have retained
that silver spoon lodged in my ***
          when i first met her and thought about
consolidating marriage: so fresh, eager prune
of the flesh embodiment as first
    watered ash, then entombed in marble
and the eternal... ah
               but it was all just the faintest of dreams;
so lumberjack sleep ensued,
                      as did a kindred worth ethic:
we are a long way from Eden...
      there is but the idyll of the absurd fruition of
albreit macht frei... or a redefinement of
such stakes as: what occupies our days?
                    if not war, if not disease,
if not the Chinese... what does, occupy our days?

Hidden behind this mask that I wear
I play a part that is filled with despair.
Lovely Juliet is the part that I play
And dear Romeo is for whom that I pray.

Endlessly my Romeo follows and courts me
Yet when I grow close he turns 'round to flee.
I fall on the ground and bow my head to weep
My strength is taken, and so I turn again to sleep.

Yet my Romeo is not an ordinary man,
And yet I chase after him again and again.
My Romeo is more of an idea or thought.
Perfection is him, and that's what I've besot.

I chase after perfection day after day
Yet I lose it when I try to be my own way.
Is death the only route that will achieve me perfection?
And not have the ongoing need for correction?

My death is inevitable  now that I know
How to get to my goal on the road I will go.
I try to fall, and yet I don't succeed.
I try to cut my lifeline, but mistakes are what I bleed.

So I try to again in my quest to fall
An attempt again to end it all.
Eventually, perfection is what I achieve
Finally are my Romeo and I to be grieved.

I was the girl who doesn't exist in reality
He was the boy who is close to fantasy.
We are characters in a tragic love story;
Romeo was his first name
And Juliet was the girl who consumed me.

While Shakespeare's Juliet captured the heart of her Romeo,
My Romeo was stolen by somebody else.

We were living in two different worlds,
And the story of my life shows:
*"Not all Romeos and Juliets meet,
And I was that Juliet who never met her Romeo."

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

My long distance, never met
Cyber lover I can’t forget.
I don’t intend to give him up
His picture says he’s quite the pup
So, I will keep him ever more
It isn’t like I don’t know the score.
My too long distance Romeo
After all, it ain’t my first rodeo.

I’ve been around this block before.
I don’t fall so easily any more.
I’ve known this guy a long time.
He’s the real thing, not slime.
He’s the right age and is honest
And he writes me clever sonnets.
I know what he does for a living.
I know it’s not a line he’s giving.

He has been hurt before too.
It’s not something he can do
To dangle someone on a line.
He’s too nice, he’s too fine.
My friends are so mean
That because he is unseen
They say he could easily be
A bored housewife in Tennessee.

My long distance, never met
Cyber lover I can’t forget.
I don’t intend to give him up
His picture says he’s quite the pup
So, I will keep him ever more
It isn’t like I don’t know the score.
My too long distance Romeo
After all, it ain’t my first rodeo.

So, I pay no attention to them.
Their outlook on this is too dim.
It isn’t like I am the gullible type
That falls for some ****** kind of hype.
I’ve been to college and I work.
I’m not the target for some ****.
I have asked all the right questions.
So, I ignore my friend’s suggestions.

I mean, think about it, after all.
Why would he do that to me at all?
What is he gaining to lie to me,
A person over here he never sees?
It isn’t like we are soon to meet
Like I lived right down the street.
He has told me several times before
That meeting up is not in store.

My long distance, never met
Cyber lover I can’t forget.
I don’t intend to give him up
His picture says he’s quite the pup
So, I will keep him ever more
It isn’t like I don’t know the score.
My too long distance Romeo
After all, it ain’t my first rodeo.

Streets of the city has recently bathed, with a sudden hour
long mid-Summer's rain.
Romeo trudged down the empty street, towards his lonely
pad located on a terrace.
He had nothing to call his very own, excepting his dear old
Saxophone!
The crowd in the hotel applauded as he played, since he played
with empathy like every other day.
He had met his Juliet briefly once, those were the moments of
a happy trance!
The saxophone has countless musical notes embedded inside, -
For our Romeo to play them out night after night.
Yet so many Romeos like him shall slowly fade away;
And the saxophone shall play their dirge at the end of
the day!  
                                                         -By Raj Nandy, New Delhi