(If some green meets some red, can Communism pronounce God dead?)
I couldn’t be bothered if the cat insists, we have the moon
I couldn’t be bothered if the fish inveigles my doom
I am not smart enough to tell between elk and moose
But I am wise enough to judge who deserves the hangman’s noose
I have a spirit with countless bullet-proof ribs and vertebra
If you could tally them all, you would know what I art
The abacus in the kindergarten recognises the children with knowledge
even innocent adults need encouragement through courage
They can stymie the procession of effort, so it gains no bonus
The crew of the swift plane of treachery knows it, itself, is bogus
I am God who is looking for his father and son; and where are his Mother and his Goddess?
Didn’t the evil one subvert all truth and lead us all to this?
You can see God is a prisoner, but very much of a Houdini
Do you think it bothers him if the evil ones cheat and winnies?
God is a frontier that never flounders even when he is on his knees
If Castor and Pollux are love; what constellations stand for justice, and what for undeserved victories?
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