(04 October 1943 / Germany)

Thoughts On Wednesday

I offer purple lemonade
to Ted and also to our Trade,
for praising what some see as crime
my postings, most of which in rhyme.
It never ceases to amaze
that some have just veneer and glaze,
they stand and say they will debate
they call you names (and sometimes Mate)
but when it comes then to the crunch
they may have gone to grab some lunch.
Malont of course must do his chores
like doing dishes, mopping floors,
if Momma rings her little bell
he runs (avoiding Holy Hell)
so you can see, that he declines
all contact with those verbal mines,
and then, there is that little matter
that he will see things on a platter
of quality and intellect
and rightfully he may suspect
conspiracy and sheer intrigue,
which lives outside his little league.
Deep down, he knows about IQ
about the taming of the shrew
and that is why a little man
will brag as often as he can.
As if assertion were a tool
to make a poet of a fool

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