The Three Whiches of What, How and Why

They clubbed together, on the roll of an ice.

They buddied together, in a discourse so nice.

They deliberated their plot,

As good as plainly not.

They decided as one

That all three were done

With the man of this


How and


And so the tree of these

Whiches decided –

Right then!

That one side would be

Their bloodied hurting pride:

A man who they knew

Knew all too much.

And so as the tree

They clearly were,

They clearly saw

Need for righteous war:

Terrible, muddied, and dim.

Against the beautiful him.

The terrifying calculation of

Terrified minimisation.

As – in fact – was secret done.

And as only true and cruel


Can do.


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