Yet to complain does not, of course, suffice,
And doing so without solution’s ice
With which to freeze the problem, neat and nice,
But whining is, and rightly it’s ignored--
Yet no solution seems fit for the board
And presentation at which it, adored,
May by the masses be greatly extolled.
I thus can only do what I have told
And call out for attention from the bold
Who, needing others’ words to guide each deed,
Perhaps my hymnal may yet come to heed
And act in such a way as leaves us freed
From Stupid God for the space of a breath--
Though no force can lead that one to its death.
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