Shakespeare on Caffeine

Shakespeare & Coffee

Coffee and A Midsummer Night's Dream

Solipsism on Caffeine

Bill and the bean

Blurring the lines 'tween

dream, theme, meme and scene

investigating ever-opening passages

of the meta

nesting microcosms

beautiful babushka poinsetta

the rosetta

stone of modern english

the comedic existential

tragicomic rice and bean dish

a mezcla most rare

shiny foil liter-rare-

y mental trading card

the bard bringing it

hard back basics

the OG no fakes it

Billy Shakes

wakes and stirs the all the souls theatrical

immersing the audience by waxing lyrical

empirically engaging changeling boy trading

cupid-flower waving

lover-exchanging

Fairy-folk eschewing reality

while I view this causality

through a mind's eye

amped on a strong cup of joe

so thoughts flow

and they grow

ever-expanding

ever-exploring

ever-pervading

never ignoring

the smallest details presented in text

by the wordsmith of Stratford

cunningly constantly coarsely

punning 'bout beauty, life, love,

but mostly sex.

All Melange Français and no lait

makes Jack's brain play with

notions of genre recursion

bean potion's granting full immersion

in Will's world of wordplay in his plays within plays

and the insane poetic vein in the amazing maze of allegory

in a story with such purpose told without stage directions

instead predilections of director and actor deciding

presiding over what is to be or not

casting their signature spotlight

on what does and does not fit right

in their quote un-quote new view

of a masterpiece that moves through

time and place changing face

leaving traces of its cultural impact

craters of genius in the intellectual landscape

fact: the man brought at least fifteen-hundred new words to this language

fact: the reason his plays are cliches is 'cause they originated it

quandary: can any art be interpreted through a lens un-tinted by his work?

ponder with me without him

whether the terrain of literature would wear its signature sly grin

whether Gogo and Didi would've waited

whether Behemoth would've bated Stalin with Woland

whether Willy Loman would've been insured

whether Woolf would've incurred fear in George, Martha, Nick, & Honey

whether the Eckleberg eyes would see

or J. Gats would be

while I agree it is of course a matter of flutterbys and wind and their effect

I conject a direct connect between the cinder-blocks placed by his works

the mortar spread with each verse 

and the present holistic existence of the written word.