WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE DIED 23/04/1616 AGED 52
52 DIVIDED BY TWO = A PAIR OF ALPHABETS

To quote top playwrite Will Shakespeare
 remembered this four hundred years 
from among his much hackneyed sayings
 there's a couple that spring to mind here.
 One's about Cleo's lover,
  wanting to borrow...his country-mens ears.
And "The world is a great big platform 
on which everyone appears."
 
Where infinite streams of  young newbies,
 in the steps of forgotten has beens 
 act their socks off...seeking perfection
 purloining scene after scene  

The rest, according to talent, cast in minor roles
 support the leading actors,
  like paralysed telegraph poles.
Then after the final curtain 
 distraught in belated hindsight
  regret not working hard  enough
on a no second chances, first night
mediocre performers...wincing to catcalls and names
exit their lime-lit once only...fifteen minutes of fame.

Circle and stalls filled to overflow
with restless lost souls...in measured limbo 
each brings a notebook and pencil along
 to see and record...how and why they went wrong.
Curtain rises, "on this real not pretending" 
  epic production of
"LIFE WITHOUT ENDING"

Enter stage right handsome young blade
tall, narcissistic, aloof
falls head over heels for a shapely blonde 
   flowering away in her youth

Two comparitive strangers, Daddies daughter, Mummy's son
 drawn together by natural selection...metamorphosed into one
together at last the two of them, coiled in a lovers embrace
settle down to propogate...continue the human race.

Detached from the merry gathering, Best Man's tacky pun
nature in deadly earnest, for the lovers lots of fun, 
pre maritial caution...set flippantly aside
free's double backed Devil's fingers
for an unprotected ride

Early evacuation/premature ejaculation
 disentangles God almighties, fits all sizes...missionr'y position
 Satisfied groans, clashed with unfulfilled screams
bring to a climax act two's final scenes

Act three scene one, many years on
blessed with five children four girls and a son.
It's now just the two of them...kids married and gone
genetically programed, to follow them on. 
Earthly task over, husband and spouse
sit waiting for death in their echo-less house

There in the shadows of a once vibrant home
 watch again...their condensed transition, 
from young love...to Darby and Joan 
 super eight colour movies,
 bounced off...magnolia walls
revitalise faded moments, far beyond recall
  on this oft travelled...fifty year journey,
from springtime through summer, to fall.
 stories one for each milestone...over and over retold.
  Tears dropped at each anniverary, 
trace progress...from Paper to Gold

Act three death scene 
His pestle is limp her mortar is dry
  the play's almost over, it's time now to die
 tears falling free...from first nighters rouged eyes
blur the last moments of...real life demise.
.......................................................

A MESSAGE FOR THE DYING (That's all of us)

If you've lived your life to God's template,
 on the afore-mentioned theme
  been a regular Church goer, with a record squeaky clean
God'll let you slip away painless, before catching owt obscene.
large incremental advances...will up your status to "special mates"
 so put an extra fiver, on the Sides-men's copper plates
......................................................................
A MESSAGE FOR THE DEAD
 Rumours abound of a new idea, the Holy Ghost is trending
 there's up for grabs a million pound prize
 for those clever enough...to invent or devise
"LIFE WITH A HAPPY ENDING".