Once upon a Sunday dreary, while I languished, bored and bleary

Contemplating nothing watching football on TV

While I nodded, nearly napping, something in my brain came tapping

Subtle as a rapper’s rapping, beat box booming raucously

“Who the hell is that,” I muttered, “beat box booming raucously?

“Ruining my tranquility.”

 

Jolted as if by espresso, watching Dallas stomp Chicago

With just six minutes left to go, waiting on the final score.

Much as I enjoyed the Bears’ shame, I could not focus on the game

Much like a moth is drawn to flame, the vortex of my mind became

I could not help but to recall a motion filed weeks ago

Something that I missed before.

 

Pondered I the affidavit filed by an addled dimwit

Seeking legal retribution from some guy who stalked his wife.

Knowing only what I read on the fore-mentioned dimwits’s motion

“Something stinks about this like a moldering alewife.

“Something’s wrong about this and on that I’d bet my life.”

Well, maybe 10 bucks, not my life.

 

As my thoughts grew hot and rabid, quickly I logged in to Scribd

Searching for the affidavit Aaron Walker filed weeks before

In his florid words intense I saw a thing that made no sense

I wondered how I’d missed it as I’ve read the thing before

Questioned I my comprehension that I could miss this before.

I stared until my eyes were sore.

 

The motion told a tale of horror, Aaron Walker’s livid terror

When there on the occasion of a courthouse expedition,

For company, he took his wife, and inconsiderate of her life

Leaving her exposed to face the human corporal form of sin

To the wily whims and mercy of the man called Kimberlin

The evil that is Kimberlin.

 

She was safe there in the courthouse, tucked in like a comfy churchmouse

With her manly husband there with cops and sheriff’s guards and more.

Walker saw the man approaching there into the court encroaching

The evil known as Kimberlin drew near the courthouse door

His wife safe there beside him Aaron feared what lie in store

He sacrificed his paramour.

 

“Here comes Kimberlin,” he said, “You know him as the cause of dread

“And though you would be safe with me and all these guards and guns you see

“I order you to hit the bricks and wait for me out in the car.”

Used to doing as she’s told, she didn’t whine she didn’t scold.

She left the safety of the courthouse since Aaron Walker told her to.

Who knew what Kimberlin would do?

 

No matter whose account you take to be the truth, for goodness sake

What kind filthy, crawling louse would send his wife from the courthouse

To face the man he fears to face without a gun or can of mace

To render her more vulnerable to the man that Walker fears?

What kind of husband is he that would force his wife to face HIS fears?

And thus provoke her frightened tears.

 

A craven coward does such things, controls his wife with puppet strings

And task her with the daily charge to check the car for bombs?

And when will Mary draw the line and show the vestage of a spine

To tell her craven husband off and point him to the door?

To show him that she will not be his doormat any more?

Quoth the Craven, “Nevermore.”

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Retired from his position as a writer/editor at the National Institutes of Health, Bill Schmalfeldt saw the willingness of a cadre of right wing idiots to destroy the life of an ex-con who had re-entered public life having served his time. He spoke out against this pack of hyenas and paid for it with false attacks on his own reputation and filthy, foul and profane mockery surrounding the death of his wife in 2015. Unbroken, Bill continues to write for Breitbart Unmasked and his private blog, http://theclintoniconoclast.com.