Alec Baldwin Does Shakespeare

Image result for Alec Baldwin on stage

Thank you for joining us for another episode of Monsterpiece Theater. Tonight we have invited the legendary Alec Baldwin to the stage. Mr Baldwin will be providing a refreshing new take on Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18. We ask that you refrain from taking photographs during the performance, since this would necessitate a 911 call on your behalf.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? You better fucking believe it, sweetheart.

Thou art more lovely and more temperate and way hotter than that heatwave last summer that melted my balls like nobody’s business.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and they can be a bigger pain in the ass than a piece of shit paparazzi chasing me down on a coffee run.

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date. A shorter date than most of the dates I went on when I first got to Hollywood. Fucking town . . .

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, but heaven has nothing on the set of boobs I bought you. And yeah . . you’re welcome.

And often is his gold complexion dimmed; dimmed . . like a writers meeting on SNL with a bunch of virgin pricks who act like they invented comedy.

And every fair from fair sometime declines, like this Colbert asshole calling me angry. Me! Just wait until his career’s in the toilet and he’s calling me for help with the rent . . .

By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed; like my hedges. What? You thought I was gonna say my balls? Get the fuck outta here!

But thy eternal summer shall not fade, but I’m fucking tell you . . Colbert’s popularity will.

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st, because you’re more fun than being chased by cops on the BQE.

Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade, the way I brag about getting you in the sack.

When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st. And yeah, I got a dick joke but I’m holding onto it. The joke . . not my dick.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, and knees can buckle under the swing of a Louisville Slugger . . .

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. And now I gotta take a piss because this Diet Coke goes right through me.

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening- By Robert De Niro

Whose woods are deese, I think I know.
He’s got another place in the Village, though;
He’ll nevah see me stopping heah,
Cause I’m gonna make him disappeah.

My cab drivah must think it queer . . and by queer I mean strange. So don’t go bustin’ my balls, alright?
My cab drivah must think it queer,
That I tell him to leave the meter running and wait right heah.
Between da woods and some mook’s rancher,

In the fucking dark. Shit . . it’s really dark out heah in the country . . .
He honks his horn and I tell him if he tries that again, I’ll bust his fucking head wide open.
He asks if there is some mistake.
The only other sound is him shitting his pants when I pull out my .45 and tell him to shut the fuck up.

The wind makes me feel like I could piss my pants, and the snow . . the forecast said it was supposed to be cleah . . that piece of shit weatha man!
I gotta admit, the woods are fucking beautaful even if da snow is deep,

But I got promises ta keep.
And a rat to put ta sleep.
And a Red-eye to Tampa to catch so’s I can lay low until this blows ovah.

Flame

Coils prosper in hushed verses.

The filament . . .a constant plead,

of voids, fucking and smoke.

Worlds planted, graves unmarked,

lost to the ether. Found to the sunburst.

The flame dances alone,

because its partner always dies.

 

Dawn

A golden moon sways inside the endless reach of broken china stars whose wishes read like musical notes, risen from the dawn of time.

Darkness grows into a thick bleed of hard purple varnish, with lonely silver pinpricks of the ancient times roaming hopelessly, like lost lovers.

This celestial ballet is a tangle of poets and rock songs whose asymmetry is a revolution of math equations making babies with angry rhymes.

Serendipity pulses and bubbles in this magical pond. The restless calm before the uprising, when the might of darkness will battle with fire.

Cobwebbed stars shout in their best mighty and pray in their best kneel and get tangled up in storms whose crush is lying in ravenous wait.

Vermilion colored pebbles cobble themselves together in serrated regiments, tasked with the merciless plunge.

Stars weeping as if bent spokes on a broken down bicycle whose journey is a wheezing, desperate wreck of memories.

The sky heaves and swirls as if there is any doubt as to the outcome of its rebellion. Its tears turn to flickers and lashes and then finally, to smoke.

Black vespers of those cosmic scrolls float like ash across the moody canvas. Violet dregs to plush magenta to roasted crimson.

Plump slices of orange drip from this frosted ceiling as the moon runs away and the sky opens up to birdsong echoes and velvet cream clouds.

And dreams paint the newborn sky in sunflower drenched amulets that streak the racing heartbeat of that orange pulp with blessings.

The wind tastes of mercury and wine, with wrinkles of mystery and fate collapsing in a tranquil embrace with the ransom of time.

Morning dew gives way to plush, the chill recedes to a warm and faithful glow and miracles dress themselves in different arrangements now.

Daylight sings its cursive song as steeples sing to blackbirds. As a fresh coat of paint comforts an old house. As stained glass speaks of truth.

Dawn has arrived.

 

 

Come Fly With Me

By Ali Clark

Your soul is made of stars… I dream in constellations of you.

Your fingers leave trails of stardust; your kisses – black holes.The cosmos dust your cheeks leaving a spattering of freckles to fill my night sky.

Let me dance in your moonlight and swim in your milky ways. I could drown happily in you.

Our galaxies were made for each other, gravity slowly pulling us closer and closer until impact: a supernova upon first kiss.

I count my lucky stars for the fact that I get the chance to bask in your rays, you light up my life brighter than any solar flare possibly could.

Celestial beings bow down in your wake for you yourself were forged from the moon and stars for me to adore.

Just as the moon transitions, so will you.

I will love you wholly no matter your phase… you may wax and wane as you please, my love.

Drowning in the Shallows

I wished for a simple peace of mind.

It came to me on a street corner in New York City in the middle of the night as I was walking off a bout of insomnia and getting nowhere with it. And isn’t that the way it is? That you find somewhere in the middle of standing still.

It happened suddenly, like a lightning strike on a still night. It was a loose thought that got away from me. This thought that we’re all gonna die and that I might as well gain peace of mind before it’s done. It was taking me on this hopeless fucking trip, as if I’d just shot up Bukowski. You can overdose on bad shit like that, which is where the wish came in.

Wishes are crazy things. There’s a sanctified applique to wishes I never have been able to understand. They’re made of air and treated like Sanskrit. Wishing? It’s like popping coins in a soda machine and expecting holy water. And yet, that’s just what I did. I made this wish as if spinning freshly culled wool from a crescent shaped pasture in some odd sounding place. I made this wish with the very same intent . . . to chase away the cold fisted melancholy. To brave the chill with warmth. It seemed poetic.

There was an abundant quality to the wish, to the way it made me feel in that moment. I felt as if I was standing in the middle of a field dripping with orange blossoms. I closed my eyes and I could find those velvet eyes slinking their way into me with their honeyed seduction. Those crooked stems, making it appear as if they were kneeling into a prayer with my name on it. I could even taste the perfume, and it was busy shaking loose a brilliant fever dream. A dream that spun on fiery coils, rousing bonfires in the dying night and willing the sun to feast on the desperate clutches.

The hunger in my darkest thoughts began to wane. The science in its talons wavered as if a crumpled paper airplane falling short of the make believe parapets in a war of toy soldiers. Inside the shallows of kismet and all their spent catastrophes is where I found my simple peace of mind. Borrowed from a wish whose equity was a quiet roam in which I put the moon to sleep.

The morning sun splayed through the stalks of steel and concrete and glass, birthing archipelagos of crimson and sienna across the yawning streets. The skyscrapers, still nestled together in sleep, like shipwrecked boats. Their deaths borne of the mighty reach, like spells upon the wishes thrown.

Wanting too much of that thing forever sells.

The Last Time

By Linds B, 

So, if this is the last time . . .

The last time I ever stare into those beautiful amber colored eyes,

The last time I ever see you smile because of me,

The last time I get to hold you in my arms,

The last time I get to hear that infectious laughter that touches my heart in ways you could never begin to understand, I would look back at it all so fondly. Not with one single regret.

I would do it all again, in the bat of an eye, in a heartbeat.

Loving you was a privilege, a privilege I never thought I’d have the opportunity to experience; but surely enough, there you were, willing to give me the chance to give you happiness.

I held your hands in mine, I told you to place your heart and all of your trust in me.

I have and always will protect it with my life, as you have endless love and kindness to give.

For the moment, you may view me as your end all be all, but darling I promise you, you have much to do in this life, and even more to experience.

So go, live your life, see all the joy you can bring yourself. I promise life is so much more than one human. Show yourself that life is more than existing, teach yourself that every emotion is worth feeling.

Most importantly, grow, learn, love unapologetically.

Just know that in the end, regardless of where we end up, I will always be on the sidelines cheering you on.