~ From 'The Two Gentlemen of Verona,' William Shakespeare
Why won’t you talk to me … I feel like I’m drowning,
You never talk to me … you know I can’t breathe now,
What are you thinking … we’re going nowhere,
What are you feeling … we’re going nowhere.
Why won’t you talk to me?
You never talk to me,
What are you thinking?
Where do we go from here?
("Keep Talking," Pink Floyd)
Communication is the key to romance, and many cases of love gone bad can perhaps be attributed to bad blood, bad karma, or … a failure to communicate.
What if Elizabeth Barrett Browning had penned, "How do I love -- er, loathe thee, let me count the ways?"
Romeo and Juliet could have saved themselves a lot of heartache if only they'd had a plan, and talked about it. Cleopatra could have staved off a wicked nasty snake bite. Ophelia might have learned to swim, Desdemona could have practiced holding her breath longer, and Lady Macbeth would have known to wear gloves.
YWhat do you call two birds in love?
YWhat did one oar say to the other?
"Can I interest you in a little row-mance?"
Words Gone Wild are suddenly lovestruck. All I can do with them is give them their heads and let them make Twisted Valentines.
This would be the raw material:
Thank you for spairing your time; as you have spoaired mine.
They are running a pole today
wrecked my brain
i think she's patetic and discusting
My Darling Valentine,
I got my atorney to nagahied
Those who called you patetic and discusting,
I would recline with you any time on the Naugahyde,
‘Cuz for you my heart is lusting.
For My Valentine,
Thank you for spairing your time
As you have spoaired mine,
On our aranged marriag my heart pantomimes,
A falsetto anetham – oh, you so fine!
Love and kisses,
Dear Hot Tamale Valentine of mine,
They are running a pole today,
And I want to see you on it,
Put on your stilettos and dance, ba-bay,
And gimme a big ol’ love hit.
My Dear Precious Darling Valentine,
I kmnow peopel can be cruel weasils,
And it has wrecked my brain like measles,
But you are defferent quality, hot even when
Stationary. Wreck me, sweetheart, let’s make some sin.
At the Faux Shakespeare open mic today:
A contract of eternal boredom, n'er mind love, confirm'd by mutual slapping of hands.
~Shakesnare, Twelfth Nite After Honeymoon
What's Your True Love's Name?
|Your True Love's Name Is|
Randy? Randy?! Is there a Randy out there? O