by Shawn E Hamilton

Created on: April 12, 2011   Last Updated: September 13, 2011

After reading Mark Twain's "Is Shakespeare Dead?"

Dig the Dust Encloased Here  

To think we deified You,
Poacher of deer,
Poacher of Mysteries,
Barely educated businessman,
Exalted upon the faulty alter of
Public opinion.

Twain called you a fraud
Those who worship you,
“Blatherskites”
And “Stratfordolaters.”

The Greatest Writer in the World,

You never left a scrap of Your holy writ,
Not a play or manuscript in the entire
Inventory of Will.
You signed legal papers though,
Willing your wanton wife your
“Second-best” bed.

Scholars created your Lordship,
Twain told us,
From nearly airy nothingness, erecting
A magnificent Brontosaurus
From a slight shard of bone.

But Shakespeare signifies the Common Man,
Not secret son of a virgin queen and cultured earl,
Whose love labors were lost upon
A nescient knavery.
We want to believe Him.
We want to believe that he,
Our country cousin,
Could stroll courts with lords,
Speak divinely with gods,
Having never graduated
From a reputable school.


Honorificabilitudinitatibus,
Shakespeare.
You’re a mask, a disguise,
A bought bard,
Paid well to welter forth
Teachings of an Invisible College.

We bear you no malice
That you sold your name,
But you should have asked your patrons
(You were in a good position)
To write for you
A decent epitaph.

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