07-10-2014, 05:05 AM
The Trojan Horse
fim 5/21/11
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
clouds 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 underhanded 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 camp
supported by his domination of the test.
The son’s logic had been valid but fractured,
his assertions lacked cohesiveness.
The father recognized some pieces of an argument
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 construct 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
now 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 had seemed only a smidgen short of a retreat.
The father confident his intellect had dominated
had unleashed a prolonged and vociferous victory claim.
His son might have brought his best to the fight
but it was a best that seemed 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 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 magnificent argument he stared.
It never occurred to the father until that moment
his victory claim was without merit or truth.
He couldn't claim he enabled his son to "Bring it"
if he hadn’t … a most devious ruse.
So the father caroused like a sailor on shore leave
oblivious to the spear lodged in his chest
sunk in defeat most ingloriously
but 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 crushed 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.
fim 5/21/11
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
clouds 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 underhanded 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 camp
supported by his domination of the test.
The son’s logic had been valid but fractured,
his assertions lacked cohesiveness.
The father recognized some pieces of an argument
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 construct 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
now 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 had seemed only a smidgen short of a retreat.
The father confident his intellect had dominated
had unleashed a prolonged and vociferous victory claim.
His son might have brought his best to the fight
but it was a best that seemed 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 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 magnificent argument he stared.
It never occurred to the father until that moment
his victory claim was without merit or truth.
He couldn't claim he enabled his son to "Bring it"
if he hadn’t … a most devious ruse.
So the father caroused like a sailor on shore leave
oblivious to the spear lodged in his chest
sunk in defeat most ingloriously
but 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 crushed 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.