Tuesday, February 8, 2011

My thoughts are a Four-Lettered Word.

I'm sweaty. I'm stinky. I'm tired and I'm ready. ... and, I'm naked.

Bring on the funk. Hit me with the deep backbeats and the soul-thumping bass beats that speak to my soul.

Tear the roof off the mutha, tear the roof off the muthasucka ....

The roof.. the roof ... the roof is on fire. I don't need no water, let the muthatfucka burn....

These were the words of Shakespeare as he translated them from Latin.

Quite the proper rapper, that english bastard. Shakesey might have recognized love and loss but he never understood life and survival. Shakespeare was the rap star of his generation ... the Milli Vanilli of his time .

Sure, he could rhyme. No doubt, he could piece together iambic pentameter and draw those into his words. But, he didn't grease the life of those he imagined and that is why he is no more worthy of recognition than an author of any of the 'Twilight' novels.

It might seem as if I'm slamming Shakespeare, one of the most revered authors and playwrights of our time. Don't misunderstand my words... I am slamming the bard. But, I'm slamming with all due respect.

You see, Willy Shakes wrote his words, in his time, hoping to be ridiculed and disliked. He looked in the mirror each morning, snarled at his appearance and directed his displeasure of life and self through his words.

Shakesy viewed his own weaknesses in that mirror. He played out his pain an retribution for his pain in that mirror. And, he spoke to those with thheir own mirrors.

I have never understood Shakespeare ..... thees and thous and english without cursing ... I don't get it.  But, I do understand visions based upon vision.

I also gaze upon my countenance each morning with displeasure with my life. What I have written is unworthy of my own acceptance. Bill Shakespeare and I can relate ..... Yet... yet ....

Yet..... what I write and bring to others, no matter how insignificant it may seem to be ... is important.

Important. That's a 15-syllable word.  Why do I say that? Because my dumbass thoughts are no less important than your dumbass thoughts.

You are me. I am you. You are Stephen Hawking. Stephen Hawking is you. You are worthy of respect and respect is within you.

Do you see where I'm headed? Your mind is your mind. No one can ever direct your life and your beliefs unless you allow it to happen.

I lost you at Stephen Hawking. That's ok. Maybe you never even knew who Steven Hawking was, or is ...

Hawking could have easily penned MacBeth ... the visions he and Billy Shakes shared are similar ....

Oh Home, Oh Home.. Where for art there Home? ....

... dismiss my craziness as reality .... I do.

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