TYRONE SHAKESPEARE

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    TYRONE SHAKESPEARE

    A tear begets my eye
    Chambers of thy heart are filled with pain
    Only to awaken and realize
    That she’s back again
    She yells
    Romeo Romeo!!
    For were art thou Romeo?
    But I donst heareth that
    Trying to hang with my homeyo
    Watch the football game
    Or shootest a game of pool
    My fair maiden Juliet
    She calls me such a foolish fool
    Shouldest she be last on my to do list
    Her naggin’ is not which upon thy wished
    We used to frolick in the taverns
    And bare thyselves in the brush
    But her constant talking is a bad pattern
    I forgoeth and wisheth she would hush
    Shalts thou not complain
    As thine strumpeth driveth me insane
    Shalts thou taketh out the trash
    After morning and evening hath passed
    And thine bones acheth from the field
    When after this time hath passed
    She not even maketh a meal
    Washed and foldeth thine swallows and rags
    Thine scarlet of a woman hath becometh a drag
    Gold coin she haveth not
    No swine upon the table she bringeth
    It’s her that I needeth not
    Tonight she shall blowest amongst the wind
    In the morn I shalst move on
    A tear begets my eye
    Chambers of thy heart are filled with pain
    Only to awaken in the morning
    And realize
    That she cometh back again.
    Damn.


    J. AMEER

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    Poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.

    Plato (BC 427-BC 347) Greek philosopher.

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