I'LL WAKE-UP MR. SHAKESPEARE AND TELL HIM MY STORY

Wake-up, Mr. Shakespeare, come alive!... There were more inspired people who wish to read your poems-- So blooming, dramatic and extraordinary.
Can I dig you up and tell you my story?I guess you wanted to listen and includemy life story in your writings-- So others will be more inspired about me.
What the heck, I have never met you before! Should you can write my story,What kind of story will it be?... Am I happy, worried, feared or successful?
Wake-up, Mr. Shakespeare, come alive! Tell us more about your thoughts that were buried on earth and not been saved to computers-- Wake-up, Mr. Shakespeare, come alive! ... and come alive with me--

Love Was Made Of

I use to creep all the time to see my adorable Jenny I use to court her but she likes Mark more than me Mark is one of our neighbors and a known drug addict He’s always involved with some fights and rumbles But certainly, he’s a very good-looking man And no wonder why Jenny likes him He belongs to the “Rich and Famous Family.”
One time, I saw them two together It seems to me that they are having an argument And that Mark slapped her once While she’s trying to say something Then again, a job on her stomach In which caused her pains And blood on her nose.
I feel hurt seeing her in pain But I couldn’t help her I just keep myself hide So they couldn’t see me creep.
Then I’ve lost them on my sight for a moment But I still keep on looking and observing Until I’ve seen them again Already lying on bed, making love And Jenny was the one on top.
I look down and close my window As I feel jealous.
Suddenly, I’ve heard a gun shot So, I’ve opened my window again and look But I have seen nothing Their windows are closed Covered with curtains.
But as I’m bothered with the gun shot I’ve tried calling Jenny’s phone number And nobody have answered Then I started to worry about her.
I tried calling her number again for few more times But still nobody’s answering the phone.
I’m so worried and don’t know what I really feel Until such time my phone rungs And I’ve answered this immediately.
It was Jenny, --crying, and feared As she have killed Mark And she doesn’t know what to do.
I was also feared knowing this But I was also concern about her And so I came and helped her.
I helped her make everything clean and clear.
We have putted Mark’s body inside the wooden box We have found it in their old garage Then wiped Mark’s left blood on the floor Using my own bare hands Then inserted him inside the compartment Of their car and drive, and both speechless.
Until we’ve reached the place In where, no people were around And found a deep hole With our voice echoing while we talk And there we chute Mark’s body And leave without looking back.
Week have past, Mark’s parents begun looking for him Nobody knows where he is… and so do Jenny and me They have reported it with the Police And did some investigations and searches And been also to the forest where we’ve thrown him But still couldn’t find anything The deep hole were now covered with wild plants and grasses And became the place for bats.
It has been a year Jenny and I have just kept it to our selves Our nightmares And we are now living together in a roof With our new born son, Marcus.

The Day When My Grandmother Died

...the day when my grandmother died she said to me, "I like your song. Could you sing this for me when I die? I've seen you the things I've wished I could be when I was young. Could you sing this once again?" Then she held my hands and added "Congratulations!" and she've given me the perfect smile that I couldn't forget. Then I saw my mother. Standing in the corner of the room with flaming tears in her eyes, and bleeding wounds in her heart as she've lost her mother. "Mother, I love you" I said to her and she cried more. Her tears formed as crystals before they fell down and broke like salt on the ground. "I'm so proud of you, son" she said to me. "Could you, please, sing me this song also when I die? I've seen you the things I wished I could be when I was young. Could you, please, sing me the song once again? Before I finally say goodbye to my mother?" she added. I cried, and cried, and cried, while singing to her my song. "Father, why are you crying?" asked my son. "Nothing, son" I responded. "It's just a song of our hearts. Soon, I might request you to sing me this song, and you will know what it is"...