Fateful Lightening

Pointed note made by one father to his brood:
“If they come to get one of us they may get us all.”


After what he unflinchingly described as a
“life time of intellectual disappointments,”
this particular man unilaterally appointed
his kidneys as the, “Master Of His Soul.”
  (Some time subsequent, his soul said,
“So big deal – who can tell?”)


Many a casual, informal chat
between reasonable men
has led to naught.


After being struck for the third time
by what some are pleased to call “fateful lightning,”
this one kid advised himself, “If you wait long enough
around impressive looking doors, sooner or later
someone will probably say, ‘The ambassador will see you now.’”


A Real Revolutionist
would not tolerate the gradual smell of decay.




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