https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/category-1755-apr.-2010 en 2005-2012 shakespearesmonekys@gmail.com 42.65593 -71.33391 Mon, 22 Jun 2026 08:34:38 GMT yacs http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss 70 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12398-the-hero-always-gets-the-girl-6-30 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12398-the-hero-always-gets-the-girl-6-30 Marriage is not about you and I. We were rich before we were poor - before the stigma of a white picket fence, a squalling babe at my breast and a 401K. We were free. You would act the Robin Hood and I the Maid Marian, laughing through Sherwood Forest; the gold slipping between our fingers as we made love carelessly beneath the trees. But you are no hero, and I am no maid. The mornings hold no stories as we rise from our bed to start the coffee, make the breakfast, pack the children off to school and let Nottingham sleep. ... more Jasmine Mann Jasmine's Poetry Mon, 26 Apr 2010 04:01:18 GMT /section-72-jasmine-s-poetry#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12398 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12398 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12398 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12397-blue-is-for-sale-5-30 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12397-blue-is-for-sale-5-30 I am creating art. My eyes paint you as you undress, trying to fit which part goes where. I imagine my hands touching you in tones of cerulean or perhaps viridian. You speak of love, but charity is a fickle mistress and we are both for sale. Abed, we won’t speak as you press your hips to mine; and I will wait for you like stretched canvas. Jasmine Mann Jasmine's Poetry Mon, 26 Apr 2010 04:00:03 GMT /section-72-jasmine-s-poetry#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12397 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12397 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12397 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12396-the-girl-with-poetry-on-her-arms-3-30 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12396-the-girl-with-poetry-on-her-arms-3-30 I knew her. She was the kid who would write poetry on her arms in black sharpie because she liked the way they smelled. Her mother kissed her every morning and made sure each lunch sack had a note with a little heart on it and the words: “love” and “hope” and “faith”. At the lunch table the kids would tease her and draw penises for her arms, scribbled with words like: “poop” and “stupid” and “hate”. At home, she’d stab her arms over the l’s and o’s until they bled and she would always wear a jacket at dinner. It was on a summer day I saw her thirteen year old body being dragged from the house on Elm Street. She had hung herself in her room, wrote a note with a little heart on it in black sharpie on her arms. A few years later, I saw her mother at a store and saw the tattoo on her arm as black as sharpie, with only one word: “despair”. ... more Jasmine Mann Jasmine's Poetry Mon, 26 Apr 2010 03:58:06 GMT /section-72-jasmine-s-poetry#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12396 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12396 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12396 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12395-thorpe-park https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12395-thorpe-park Is it because we are potted plants in Acacia Gardens, a little green lung on the manicured streets, when what churns, core-deep, is molten desire, the lion-loud dark of wildebeest and veldt? Is this what drives the theme at Thorpe Park: the gut-wrenching rides of “SAW”, “Colossus” and “Nemesis Inferno”? That stomach-pit haul and thrust of corkscrew madness, clunk and gust of everything spun into oneness, the serenity of annihilation when now is all or nothing. I've adapted to this roller coaster. Life's little cart, chain-pulled into position then accelerating, through the nursery and spilled down the school-corridor, shunting and jolting through familial swerves, to the apex of love and floating free of cares before plummeting on the down-draft of disillusion, breathless and panting up expectation's thrilling groove only to spill again and again on the turning waves- cresting and burning on the sparks of our rails. All my loves, your faces sublime at momentary peaks, let me caress our balancing instant, pause to touch the sky cradling your cheeks and wind-washed hair before we descend into rushing hours, on-the-turn, bottoming-out of a strained ephemeral intensity, aligning to the drag of chains, contained, shrunk. Gravity is mortgaged bricks and mortar; sleepless nights and nappy-filled bins; a tired bedroom's cold-shoulder - until we rise again, weightless and alive to each other.    ... more u668857 The Personal Space of U668857 Sun, 25 Apr 2010 22:31:57 GMT /section-449-the-personal-space-of-u668857#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12395 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12395 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12395 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12393-the-color-of-air https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12393-the-color-of-air This one needs a better title...any ideas? Laurie Blum POETRY Mon, 19 Apr 2010 22:49:53 GMT /section-798-poetry#comments 1 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12393 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12393 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12393 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12392-celestial-sorrow https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12392-celestial-sorrow   Deep down you cloak your heart disguised in nonchalance and apathy I see you crying for the sun of summer I touch you and deeply inhale the scent of your kiss Laurie Blum POETRY Mon, 19 Apr 2010 13:54:27 GMT /section-798-poetry#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12392 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12392 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12392 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12387-summation https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12387-summation Temptatio Atrum Mercieca, Andrew MosquitoBytes Volume 13: Silenti etc Amor Verus 2009-2010 Sat, 17 Apr 2010 01:31:09 GMT /section-745-mosquitobytes-volume-13-silenti-etc-amor-verus-2009-2010#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12387 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12387 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12387 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12386-memes https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12386-memes Temptatio Atrum Mercieca, Andrew MosquitoBytes Volume 13: Silenti etc Amor Verus 2009-2010 Sat, 17 Apr 2010 01:29:33 GMT /section-745-mosquitobytes-volume-13-silenti-etc-amor-verus-2009-2010#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12386 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12386 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12386 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12385-gravitas-veritas https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12385-gravitas-veritas Temptatio Atrum Mercieca, Andrew MosquitoBytes Volume 13: Silenti etc Amor Verus 2009-2010 Sat, 17 Apr 2010 01:28:00 GMT /section-745-mosquitobytes-volume-13-silenti-etc-amor-verus-2009-2010#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12385 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12385 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12385 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12384-of-ladybugs-and-growing-up-2-30 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12384-of-ladybugs-and-growing-up-2-30 My son held a ladybug in his fingers once and asked me: “What is dead?” I didn’t have an answer. I asked myself the same once, as I sat and watched a ladybug drown in my coffee. She tried to swim and I imagined her mouth - gaping and gasping for air. I didn’t move to help her as she thrashed for the last time; her body slowly dragging in spirals. The ladybug was so small and red I thought it looked a little like blood. I never wept. Back in his room on the floor, my son sat looking at me in all his three year old innocence. On the carpet her body had been pulled apart - legs crumpled, red wings held gingerly in his hands. I looked at him with all my adult wisdom, but he only ever asked the one question: “Mama, is she dead?” And we both wept. ... more Jasmine Mann Jasmine's Poetry Fri, 16 Apr 2010 04:44:28 GMT /section-72-jasmine-s-poetry#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12384 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12384 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12384 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12383-spring-is-not-here-1-30 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12383-spring-is-not-here-1-30 the peonies are early this year pink petals clasped tightly around the morning dew ladies parade about in skirts, twirling loosely, pink fabric splaying circles around bare legs I look down in my lap, see pants - black fabric clasped tight to my skin and think I am no lady I am no flower Jasmine Mann Jasmine's Poetry Fri, 16 Apr 2010 04:42:46 GMT /section-72-jasmine-s-poetry#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12383 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12383 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12383 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12382-interlude https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12382-interlude   Supine on the sofa, a propped slob, glued to the box, snuggled down, cushioned by fluff and passive smoke from the old boy's roll-ups. It gets too hot in the airless room, a slow fug exhaled, ingested. Stained fingers clang the tobacco tin; he gets chatty with coffee and rizlas. I'm a stay-at-home deterrent, a passive watchdog, cloistered, dour and docile, comfortably ensconced - he'll stay dry and housebound while I laze out the evening: 70s sit-coms, "Alias Smith and Jones", kettle whir from the kitchen, fire-raking and shoveling coal; till home-coming laughter outside announces her return, and she's back with fish supper and meat pie, and we're scrambling for plates and salt. Three sweats and that marker is useless; Joker Finley won a line; the snowball's carried over again; what are we watching? She'll sit a while then retire with Mills and Boon. He puts on the OU after midnight- mathematical models, atomic structures. I hear whispered footfalls before sleep, the street shouts in the night, snoring, foxes, late cars, lamppost light ghosting the curtains. I dream I am at home, will wake to a smoker's cough and the clink of milk bottles, while tomorrow starts another yesterday.     ... more u668857 The Personal Space of U668857 Thu, 15 Apr 2010 00:16:50 GMT /section-449-the-personal-space-of-u668857#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12382 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12382 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12382 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12381-the-morning-after https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12381-the-morning-after This knife inside your head is called remorse: O God it won't come out! and reaching up to stem the pain, your nausea's growing worse. You reach and retch again. God make it stop! It ends in bilious drool; you moan and curse, and vow you'll never drink another drop. And then a dawning fuzz of the night before: broken glass and reckless flailing arms in sudden sordid brawls; the boozy blur of fists in heated moments; drunken storms that flare and die in meaningless furor and leave you nursing self-imagined harms. Or worse: a violated aftermath of crumpled sheets and forceful pressing weight, insistent half-imagined hands and breath on disadvantaged stupor, late at night. And now this morning's stab of guilt and growing wrath - O God turn back the clock for time inviolate!   ... more u668857 The Personal Space of U668857 Sat, 10 Apr 2010 21:21:25 GMT /section-449-the-personal-space-of-u668857#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12381 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12381 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12381 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12380-lie-down https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12380-lie-down Temptatio Atrum Mercieca, Andrew MosquitoBytes Volume 13: Silenti etc Amor Verus 2009-2010 Sat, 03 Apr 2010 23:12:09 GMT /section-745-mosquitobytes-volume-13-silenti-etc-amor-verus-2009-2010#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12380 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12380 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12380 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12379-easter https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12379-easter In faithless years the growing doubts dismiss the meaning of my father's father's son- though greater love hath no man than this. I betray heart-felt delusion with a Judas kiss in a comfortless zone of three-score and ten faithless years when growing doubts dismiss. For logic dictates redemption is ridiculous: a sin-obsessed dream from earliest dawn though greater love hath no man than this. It rained this Easter's walk of witness. We stopped to look before moving on through faithless years when growing doubts dismiss. And as they sang beneath a cold cross I was struck by deep waves of being human for greater love hath no man than this. For a moment some paradox of human holiness restored the God of Love in Man in faithless years when growing doubts dismiss that greater love hath no man than this.   ... more u668857 The Personal Space of U668857 Sat, 03 Apr 2010 02:09:15 GMT /section-449-the-personal-space-of-u668857#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12379 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12379 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12379 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12378-decaydence https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-12378-decaydence Temptatio Atrum Mercieca, Andrew MosquitoBytes Volume 13: Silenti etc Amor Verus 2009-2010 Thu, 01 Apr 2010 06:36:24 GMT /section-745-mosquitobytes-volume-13-silenti-etc-amor-verus-2009-2010#comments 0 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/12378 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/12378 https://www.dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A12378