A Shakespearean Love Spell
by Gabrielle
Life is unfortunately a mystery in a crumbling fortune cookie
if I wrote the book on tragedy, you stole the words
not sure if thats a good or a bad thing, but tragedys usually have bitter endings
If shakespeare were secretly a woman she probably wrote midsummer nights dream
while drunk like a libertine or in worship of Dionysus taking prescription advice for Emily maybe he was both he and she–or maybe no gender could describe a man who never existed other than in memories and books, endless poetic stories
*I picture the man shakespeare, sitting back beside that beautiful brook * with a glaring look gazinb into the sky feeling inspired by the nature within but even more so–loving life wondering if there were more around the curious cats corridor and that if he passed through the mysts of avalon would it lead to love redemption torture or a future of endless septembers
all alone he dreams of emily in the trifold
path where he lay on the stones staring into the sky he says i love her name is Emily and I am magical this lyrically blind world will never understand whats its like being God inside a human or how to define endless love being power more than a flower and how to see the sky as raining diamonds not authority reigning violence how can one describe the love when one forgets -
-that beautiful dove who flew over the ocean and wiped the pain away–the future we dove to ran right in through to prove everything-humans are too simple we forget too easily we regret less than we should–to believe in a little bit of magic and destiny to have a little faith in man kind to be gentler kind of people
- like M* married to cain we’ll be back each round-- just to beat the game.