When Stupid God appears in any guise
And good work of the mind full-voiced decries,
And thoughts of human growth thereby belies,
Too many flock to hear the words thus said,
Letting non-ideas fill each head
Of those there present; they then those things spread,
A metastatic cancer of the mind
That chokes out thinking life that it does find
And discourse in its tendrils seeks to bind.
No chemotherapy has yet been found
That keeps that cancer from going around
The body politic. No longer sound,
It falters, falls at feet of Stupid God,
The which contentedly will, seeing, nod.
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