The Actor must be HUGE upon the stage foursquare not curtained on fore the world must keep on going on! The Play! The Play's The Thing. Fore certain. Bet you thought I got it wrong this is what William Shakespeare wrote. Perhaps CharlaX got it from his head inn hearte was felt a lesson plan? I reasoned out this attribute this statesmeant it just has got to be from him? To be or not to be was this the final question questing certain answers come back againe to hearte aparte frome judgemente smarte? To be or not to be was this an Actor not a poet homeless? OUT OUT brief candle flame floating in the snowe of wintere whims thus tractore beame from GOD to call home a Jesus Soul. One moore poet gone to home, a writer formed, a poet gone. The Play, The play's the thing. The Play. Fore all the world's a stage and every Poet is the Actor speaking in his written wordes. The sorrow borne of acuallity his depression leaking out and biting you who know. THEPLAY'STHETHING. The solitude of self-imposed sanctitude a life awry the useless knowledge leaking leaking gone. Like as to water in the rocks or Stone bleeding down perhaps the loss of too much needed blood has left the home no Garden but Entombe. The Play, The Play's the thing. Shakespeares a secret Christian under Bards robes wore a Catholic Rosary and Cross. The way he bellowed at Authority striving to be taken thus dispatched to heaven pearl gate to be a Hebrew slave among the liveing dead. The play's the thing. What woulld poor William say to us today. He was not a Poet making rhyme but a playwright writting times putting young lads in NUNS outfits on stage for no young women fit to spit his words onstage, the boys falsetto sent the audience to fits and giggles. The play the play the play (then falls) the play the play (the final curtain).
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