Mens Minds

Mens minds are but,
A thinking machine.
The smat ones come,
In purplish-green.

The dumb-ones show,
They are inner-pink.
And it's hard at times,
To even think.

Now the common kind,
Is a lightish grey.
They shift in gears,
And seldom stray.

To ponder long,
In a shaft of thought.
Is a real, sure sign,
Your chains are caught.

Now... to be a genius,
Be-speaks a few.
T'is how they were born,
And the way they grew.


E.P. 1908 - 1989