07-03-2013, 07:53 PM
The Trojan Horse
The Trojan horse came in the form of an email
That evoked euphoria … for the father had won!
He had decisively dominated in dramatic fashion
In a battle of wits with his son.
It seemed the son had all but conceded
While apparently attempting to prevail
His assertion noticeably weak and wandering
A sailing ship that hadn't raised her sails
A star whose light couldn't penetrate
A cloud-cover that spread far and wide
A gun slinger who carried only a single shot
Fired first and missed by a mile
The challenge was to demonstrate a superior ability
To "Bring it!" (argue assertively),
While defending the position that his Mom and Dad,
Hadn't enabled him too genetically.
You see, it is a revered part of his Italian culture
The inclination to argue with zest and verve
He proved to be quite a natural
Quick and logical … never perturbed
The challenge itself was a father’s clever ploy
For were the son to win … well, he might very well lose
The father needed an edge or advantage
His son was clever and hard to playfully abuse
The son accepted the challenge then provided his argument
So unimaginative it seemed half-hearted at best
Victory was claimed in the father's household
Substantiated by his domination of the test
The son’s logic had been valid but fractured
His assertions lacked cohesiveness
The father recognized a semblance of an argument in the pieces
But the son’s “play” was disjointed at best
Though old and weary the father’s spirit danced
As if it had scaled the Matterhorn
It soared to lofty heights as if with wings
Delighting in every moment airborne
Then time and contemplation brought shadows
Darkening his spirit like a moonless night
Could the wandering fairy his son sent to do battle
Have surreptitiously claimed his spirit's life?
Could his son's seemingly inane argument
Have concealed an assassin’s blade?
Had he, with intention, uplifted his dad
To best display the fool being made?
Did he intentionally guide his kind and loving father
To joy one senses on a mountain top
Only to gloat as his father's spirit plunged
In defeat's abysmal drop?
Did he realize his father’s propensity for reflection
Would have him examining the “pieces” his son left
Until he inadvertently assembled the magnificent argument
That walked his father to the edge of the cliff
Did the son deliberately have his father assemble the argument?
So that the father couldn’t lay valid claim
To the assertion he had enabled his son to “bring it”
Via the traits he had passed along in his genes?
The strategy was exceedingly clever
How could the father assert he provided the gift
When through the entirety of the contest
He failed to recognize or acknowledge it.
Deep in the bowels of desperation
The anguished father in a moment's pause
Envisioned his son gleefully celebrating
With justifiable cause
He had clandestinely bested his father's assertion.
His son had prevailed in the guise of defeat.
With his subtle and fractured argument
That seemed only a smidgen short of a retreat
The father confident his intellect had dominated
Unleashed a prolonged and vociferous victory claim
His son might have "brought" his best to the fight
But it was a best that was quickly shamed
Then somewhere in the middle of the victory celebration
Amidst jubilation and laughter's peal
It occurred to the hapless father
That his son had, in fact, sealed the deal
The argument his father mistook for shoddy
Was a spear that traveled true to his heart
The son had won by exploiting his adversary
By cleverly scattering his argument about in parts
Counting on his father to reflectively examine
The “pieces” his son had shared
Knowing his dad would manipulate the components
Until at the son’s magnificent argument he stared
It never occurred to the father until that moment
That his victory claim was without merit or truth
He couldn't say his genes enabled his son's ability to "Bring it"
If his son didn't … a most devious ruse
So the father who had caroused like a sailor on shore leave
Oblivious to the spear lodged in his chest
Sunk in defeat most ingloriously
Only after boasting he was best
Now experiencing the misery known by but few
After the euphoria of apparent triumph and delight
Shattered by the impact with despair's rocky bottom
A never-ending lonely and hopeless blight
Woe to the son who crushes his dad
A devoted and loving gent
Who thought “the horse” was a tribute of love
For the life of sacrifice he spent
Caring for and teaching his Daddy's Boy
In every manner and moment he had
Entrusting his heart to the little fellow
Offering anything and everything to the lad
He had never worn a chest plate in the boy's presence
He would only tease to beget a grin
Never suspecting or considering in a jovial contest
His son would send a Trojan horse in.
But in the dank and dark hollows of defeat
An anguished father reaches to don
A well-worn armor chest plate
To protect his heart from his ruthless son
With jaw resolute he acknowledges defeat
Of the battle he barely survived
The warrior fairy should have taken his head
And not left him humiliated … but alive
You see the father knows a battle can be an inconsequential part
Of lengthy campaigns that constitute a war
And his father will never again mistakenly welcome
A Trojan horse his son leaves at his door
The Trojan horse came in the form of an email
That evoked euphoria … for the father had won!
He had decisively dominated in dramatic fashion
In a battle of wits with his son.
It seemed the son had all but conceded
While apparently attempting to prevail
His assertion noticeably weak and wandering
A sailing ship that hadn't raised her sails
A star whose light couldn't penetrate
A cloud-cover that spread far and wide
A gun slinger who carried only a single shot
Fired first and missed by a mile
The challenge was to demonstrate a superior ability
To "Bring it!" (argue assertively),
While defending the position that his Mom and Dad,
Hadn't enabled him too genetically.
You see, it is a revered part of his Italian culture
The inclination to argue with zest and verve
He proved to be quite a natural
Quick and logical … never perturbed
The challenge itself was a father’s clever ploy
For were the son to win … well, he might very well lose
The father needed an edge or advantage
His son was clever and hard to playfully abuse
The son accepted the challenge then provided his argument
So unimaginative it seemed half-hearted at best
Victory was claimed in the father's household
Substantiated by his domination of the test
The son’s logic had been valid but fractured
His assertions lacked cohesiveness
The father recognized a semblance of an argument in the pieces
But the son’s “play” was disjointed at best
Though old and weary the father’s spirit danced
As if it had scaled the Matterhorn
It soared to lofty heights as if with wings
Delighting in every moment airborne
Then time and contemplation brought shadows
Darkening his spirit like a moonless night
Could the wandering fairy his son sent to do battle
Have surreptitiously claimed his spirit's life?
Could his son's seemingly inane argument
Have concealed an assassin’s blade?
Had he, with intention, uplifted his dad
To best display the fool being made?
Did he intentionally guide his kind and loving father
To joy one senses on a mountain top
Only to gloat as his father's spirit plunged
In defeat's abysmal drop?
Did he realize his father’s propensity for reflection
Would have him examining the “pieces” his son left
Until he inadvertently assembled the magnificent argument
That walked his father to the edge of the cliff
Did the son deliberately have his father assemble the argument?
So that the father couldn’t lay valid claim
To the assertion he had enabled his son to “bring it”
Via the traits he had passed along in his genes?
The strategy was exceedingly clever
How could the father assert he provided the gift
When through the entirety of the contest
He failed to recognize or acknowledge it.
Deep in the bowels of desperation
The anguished father in a moment's pause
Envisioned his son gleefully celebrating
With justifiable cause
He had clandestinely bested his father's assertion.
His son had prevailed in the guise of defeat.
With his subtle and fractured argument
That seemed only a smidgen short of a retreat
The father confident his intellect had dominated
Unleashed a prolonged and vociferous victory claim
His son might have "brought" his best to the fight
But it was a best that was quickly shamed
Then somewhere in the middle of the victory celebration
Amidst jubilation and laughter's peal
It occurred to the hapless father
That his son had, in fact, sealed the deal
The argument his father mistook for shoddy
Was a spear that traveled true to his heart
The son had won by exploiting his adversary
By cleverly scattering his argument about in parts
Counting on his father to reflectively examine
The “pieces” his son had shared
Knowing his dad would manipulate the components
Until at the son’s magnificent argument he stared
It never occurred to the father until that moment
That his victory claim was without merit or truth
He couldn't say his genes enabled his son's ability to "Bring it"
If his son didn't … a most devious ruse
So the father who had caroused like a sailor on shore leave
Oblivious to the spear lodged in his chest
Sunk in defeat most ingloriously
Only after boasting he was best
Now experiencing the misery known by but few
After the euphoria of apparent triumph and delight
Shattered by the impact with despair's rocky bottom
A never-ending lonely and hopeless blight
Woe to the son who crushes his dad
A devoted and loving gent
Who thought “the horse” was a tribute of love
For the life of sacrifice he spent
Caring for and teaching his Daddy's Boy
In every manner and moment he had
Entrusting his heart to the little fellow
Offering anything and everything to the lad
He had never worn a chest plate in the boy's presence
He would only tease to beget a grin
Never suspecting or considering in a jovial contest
His son would send a Trojan horse in.
But in the dank and dark hollows of defeat
An anguished father reaches to don
A well-worn armor chest plate
To protect his heart from his ruthless son
With jaw resolute he acknowledges defeat
Of the battle he barely survived
The warrior fairy should have taken his head
And not left him humiliated … but alive
You see the father knows a battle can be an inconsequential part
Of lengthy campaigns that constitute a war
And his father will never again mistakenly welcome
A Trojan horse his son leaves at his door
