It’s like Shakespeare...only in English.

“I’m so titillated, I could lactate.” ~ B.S.

The Incomplete Worlds Of Billy Shakespeare | It's like Shakespeare...only in English.

Bard Poetry

rhymes with shakespeare

William Shakespeare is best remembered for his love sonnets. And yet his beautiful prose appears to have come at quite a cost. As I labored over the restoration of The Incomplete Works Of Billy Shakespeare, I was amazed to discover an enormous amount of very, very, mediocre poetry. At some points, the Immortal Bard appears as untalented as the winner of a Poetry Slam.

And so, while Shakespeare may have matured into an adept wordsmith with the romantic heart of a young lover, he laid waste to a small forest with what I can only describe as “bad high school poetry.” Even more amazing was that he seems to have had access to a box of “Magnetic Poetry.” Who knew?



The following poems will no doubt be cause for great debate among Shakespearean scholars. “Wait a minute,” I can almost hear them saying now. “You expect us to believe that William Shakespeare utilized a modern-day novelty like Magnetic Poetry to write his great sonnets? What are you, an idiot?”

At that point I will smile and give them a knowing wink, for on this issue there can be no debate. ( know what I mean!)

Clearly William Shakespeare was a dedicated craftsman, able to spend hours in front of his refrigerator (as all great writers often do). If you don’t believe me, just click below to see...



One of the most enduring mysteries of William Shakespeare (apart from: “What’s up with that collar?”) is the possible existence of a “mystery woman” in his life. In the following examples of some of his lesser work, he goes so far as to name the woman to whom he devoted his affections.

This “soul mate,” known in his sonnets only as “Karen,” is clearly the one to whom he has devoted his poetry, and himself, completely. She stands head and shoulders above all others, although historians assert her physical stature was “no more than five-foot one-and-three-quarter inches, no matter what she says.”

Dear Karen

Gentle dove, my only love Look what they’ve done to you now With broken wings and other things They’ve done to keep you down.

As you lie beneath the sky Remember how it was to soar Above the ground without a sound After all, what wings are for.

Beneath the sun, my only one Is where they’ve grounded you Thankfully you’re here with me And I have wings to carry you.

What Would Sinatra Have To Say About That?

If I sang like Frank Sinatra Would you love me even better Or if I wrote like Shakespeare Sending sonnets in every letter

If I were slightly taller And filled a movie screen Would I be in your fantasies And every waking dream

If I were with you now Would I still stay on your mind Would I be there right beside you Or following close behind

If I sang like Frank Sinatra Would it matter at all to you Would the time we have and moments shared Always be too few

I only ask because I hear Such music when we part It seems to keep in perfect rhythm With the beating of your heart



Shakespeare has long been regarded as a gifted humorist and in possession of a great wit. The following poems should put an end to that.

Monkey Business

Silent monkey All that falls from moving mouth Is banana

The Stages Of A Man’s Life

I’ll be happy for you If you’ll be gay for me It’s so easy to love one another Homosexually

The woman inside you Brings out the man in me Let me be the woman tonight And put your man inside of me

You’ll bend over for me While I bend over for you Then we’ll be straight for our families It’s the loving thing to do

We’ll keep to ourselves As we lie next to our wives We’ll lie together forever Just for the rest of their lives

You Two Can, Too

If a toucan can can-can in a tu-tu, you two can can-can in a tu-tu like a toucan in a tu-tu can, too.

The Wireless Relationship

Hello? Hello? Are you there? Can you hear me? How about now? Is this better? How about now? I can’t hear you. There’s too much static. Can you hear me? Because I can’t hear you. I think we’re breaking up. Can you hear me? Because I’m shouting now. Everyone else can hear me, but not you. I think we’re breaking up.



William Shakespeare was an acute observer of the human condition, no detail of which seems to have fallen outside the vast scope of his unblinking stare. This makes it all the more difficult to comprehend these clumsy, ham-handed attempts to peel back the delicate layers of human behavior.

Forget About It

I drink when I start to remember Then I drink some more to forget The more I forget and remember The more I’ll drink, I bet

I’ll start my drinking early today Continue tomorrow and then I’ll forget what I just now remembered And forget all over again


While sitting on my cloud I think I thought I see Someone in a plane Fast approaching me.

I shriek a mighty scream That pass into the night I open slowly eyes To see no one in sight.

I’m sorry if I fright I quickly try explain Come you back, I plead the man Come back in tiny plane.

Comes not a sound from out the night I guess I should have known When making too much noise One is left alone.

Eternal Maternal Lament

My life, it has no meaning Apart from cooking, cleaning And tidying after tiny tots Preparing pap from pans and pots. Eternally maternal And nurturing almost naturally. Practically paternal In supporting them financially. And when they finally flee the nest Raising them as I could best I wonder what will my life have meant. The eternal maternal lament.



It has been suggested by scientists that there is a thin line between genius and insanity. I would suggest that no matter how dense that border may be between those states, Billy Shakespeare clearly had his passport stamped in both.

Sex Ducts

Six sick dick-sucking ducks suck six sick duck dicks.

The Moon In Joon

If the sun can remember where it was the day before And the moon recall it’s place at night If the stars can find their way back home Then, goddammit woman, you better remember where you were yesterday or find your own way home tonight!

A-Choo Haiku

I just blew my nose I know that something came out I cannot find it

Days & Nights

There’s days I know there is no God And nights I pray there ain’t ’Cus I’d rather be a fucking sinner Than back home fucking a saint



Finally, it would appear that Shakespeare often took quill in hand to quell deep depressions. Read his prose now and see if it doesn’t make you want to you kill yourself. Or at the very least, him.


Somebody like me Can’t accept you’d accept Somebody like me


It’s hard for me to admit But my life bores me a bit I wish there was a way for me To change it all dramatically.

To be a superstar Drive fancy cars To go out fighting crime In danger all the time To find some magic cure Be wholesome, handsome, pure People looking up at me Then I know you’d see why you should love me...

It’s hard for me to admit But my life bores me a bit.

The Poet

Wasting time Writing rhyme While others cry & others die Still I try To speak like William Blake.

My love she sighs Through lullabies & songs I sing Through tears that sting But never bring My lover sighing beside me.

Now again I dip my pen & try to choose The words I’ll use & implore my muse To speak like William Blake.