Controvery at it's pinnacled heights.
Nothing does pass beyond this miracle.
A woman with a mind of her own and yet;
Nerve endings and desire to be woman.
Controversy shakes the plums in storm.
Spears mere mortals with searing bolts.
Oh but how could such softness contain.
Such boldness within dear little cranium?
And would you blame either start or finish:
On the weak-willed weak-fleshed cheesecake?
How then does it speak for your sex,less fair:
Not to keep such a clucksome fowl in check?
The sons of Heaven looked down and found so:
that the daughters of man were fair, so fair!
Yet they were as unfair as all mortal man are!
The woman did it: Woman is at fault: kill her!
The Son of Man set a better example to follow:
Saying a woman should sit and learn as do men.
Giving them comfort and forgiving them much sin.
Not sin of birth with vagina, but willful acts
The same as Man, with faults and foibles, true!
Different in their subtleties, vagaries, alas!
Yet made altogether the same in baser desire;
As altogether same in honor and sweet glory
All it takes to stir the pot of controversy:
Is for the woman to up and leave the kitchen.
Pick up book and read, understand words of man.
Expound and expand upon them and hold her own.
And if she looks sweet and soft, kissable too?
Oh what utter folly! Such is not allowed, dear!
Only hardened, embittered crones would argue:
A curly-lashed darling has no desire of her own
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