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A medly of verse

by  Dilapitus

Posted: Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Word Count: 234
Summary: John Dryden said that vice in triumph and virtue in distress makes atheists of me. Were he alive today, he wouldn't write that. He'd shoot himself. Orwell would stick his head down a live cannon. And so it goes. My favourite poet (Adam L shot himself. Even poets


Cynics say there is no God,
Neitzsche said he was dead.
I've had to take a stand on this,
despite an empty head.

If it's evidence you seek,
Let history be your aide.
Would you yourself feel godlike,
if that's what you had made?

Job stood taller than did Jove,
in that quaint old bit of rot,
Isaac showed he was above,
the two who him wouldst swat.

It takes an empty head to see,
That reason has absconded.
God indeed is only real,
When self and Self have bonded.

I'm with Job.



In Washington town, there was a clown,
who couldn't put ten words together.
His house was white, his soul was black,
And he wasn't all that clever.

When some said jump, he did just that,
It really was spectacular.
They got their way for eight long years,
to create for us a Vale of Tears.

But all good fun must end one day,
and that's what happened to his.
A slumbering people got out of bed,
and chucked him out on his bottom.



The most despised of species
is often seen on faeces.
What on earth's he thinking of?

The fly can't wonder why
with him we are so sly.
Indeed wonders he at all?

How often have we thought
the reason flies fall short
Is because they're so like us?