Juliet and her Romeo in the New Millennium

A modern day honeymoon, of short duration, in bawdy, Shakespearean rhyme.

Juliet	Oh Romeo, wouldst thou leave me with my pony on the go? For if thou did I’d be obliged to slap it. And t’would never be exactly comme il faut, Indeed, I’d be constrained to handicap it.
Romeo	Racy girl, full dressage would lead to insufficient woe, A prematurely consummated plot because I lingered. Pray, cool down till I remount incognito, And be content with fervid equus fingered.
Juliet	Flaccid pilgrim, thou wouldst leave me here in vaginated toil, All wanting and askew, a panting ingenue, To work myself into an artless broil, Akin to hand-stretched, frothied Montagues!
Romeo	Ah Juliet, it ne’er occurred to me in fondest reverie, That even spirited mares not beg for intermission. Aye, countless swindled maids must be’n recorded history, Encumbered and unsated by so minuscule a seat of acquisition.
Juliet	Cockered boy, do not peter out on me in phallic bonhomie, For as you rise to empathize the nightingale doth sing, Which yet leaves time for lusty-thrusted spirited activity, By thine uplifted night bird fully...cocked...in wanton caroling.
Romeo	Hollow night bird, tis not the nightingale you hear, But the prudent owl who know’st when to rest, Too wise to let us our own plot besmear, By labile minored pleas effused from being penisless.
Juliet	Aye, pleas as soundless as thy hoots for venerated plots, Whilst nightingales give way to cranky larks, Who spend long sterile days tied up in knots, Unsparked by dickering, stage-struck patriarchs.
Romeo	Poor stunted ears mistake the nagging screech of larks, For the gloried matinals of noble roosters, Whose fertile-throated calls ne’er fail to mark, The bawdy barnyard mien of great producers.
Juliet	Alack, the pitied gait of limpest boosters, Fixed on long-winded plots but weakly proffered, By err-brained Montagues who would be roosters, Yet end stage-roasted capons, fully Stoppard.
Romeo	Oh shamèd stable girl, thou wouldst malign, The noble-spirited clan of Montagues, Who even in high hubris would incline, To tender vulvaed Capulets sweet-tongued coos.
Juliet	Hence bid to drink vile potions by a hasty-witted friar, Then enter stage-struck Romeo fully blindered, Who doth belie stilled Juliet consumed in wishful ire, For his scene-stealing heart at full tilt daggered!
Romeo	Oh sacrilege! Thou wouldst impale my loving heart, For crimson lips and cheeks so fair in everlasting rest, Embraced in dateless bargain, never to depart Our own dim nightèd palace ever blest.
Juliet	So quick forgotten thy dispatch of Paris, Whilst on thy whiny pilgrimage to me, Hence mewling over Tybalt in frozen animus, And none of it for me but all for thee!
Romeo	Oh woe is me! Thou speak’st not as Juliet, Now lost most lovèd night bird, No greater beauty nature could’st beget, No sound more lovely in a single word.
Juliet	Nay Romeo, thy self-love played to me as purest love, Doth come from fawning boys too blind to see, That plots which play as wars can not be love, That horses as would plots run loving free.
(Romeo makes a silent plea)
Juliet	Long winded boy, alight. Save thy hackneyed story line, For trophied concubines best served supine, Akin to hollow-brainèd Rosaline.. Andre Moore, Director Marriage Couples Counseling and Life Coaching in New York City