BY DR. AGONSON
I said of the clown: You’re a fool.
Your eyes, closing both as a rule,
to you are as good as a steer
when season for mating draws near.
But trading insults cannot gain
the two of us more than just pain.
Yet rhyming in verse is quite fun,
and I know not when I’ll be done.
You wobble on footwork so strange
yet never have stepped into range:
jumping from one stance to the next,
so pinning you down has me vexed.
You call something wrong but refuse
to clearly think out your own views.
If wrong, then how so? I have asked,
yet thought was too hard of a task.
Here fin’lly it seems you will stand,
and cite genocide out of hand.
Oh well, that’s your choice, a chestnut,
an argument pulled from your gut.
I’d hoped, just perhaps, that you’d see
your joy abandoned still in me.
Maybe a vain wish, who’s to say?
at least there is light for today.
As Paul was a slave to the slave,
so I have endeared to behave:
To you I display your own kind,
in this, I believe, I was kind.
A response to Anybody Want Some Crazy?