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Shakespeare Remixed
Bearded
like a snail
jealous of
his big manly voice
Turning again
with noses
on spectacles
We seek
exits from the theater
sans teeth
sans eyes
sans everything
To die
to fly
That is the infant
mewling
with spectacles
on nose and beard of
the thousand
natural shocks
sans shocks
sans everything
Then
the cauldron
boils
and the native
hue of strange eventful history
is childish oblivion
sans oblivion
sans everything
To die
to sleep
the traveller returns
puzzles the charmed pot
double, double toil and mere
oblivion
Ay there's the rub
sans rubs
sans everything
The Toads
take arms
against
the fairies
full of death
what dreams may come
When we know
not of?
Thus conscience
does make
cowards of dogs
sans dogs
sans everything
To grunt
at mere oblivion
To be
or not of?
Thus conscience does make
spectacles on nose
and sweat under a
snake
and arrows of
outrageous fortune
sans fortune
sans everything
Or to
be
under
a weary
life while
the cauldron
bubbles
and the Fool
tickles The King
sans head
sans everything
To be
that is
the poison'd
entrails throw
We end
What is
the question?
sans questions
Copyright ©
NJ Tomcatx
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