I'm not sleeping at night at present. Consequently I've put in the hours on this. It may be taken as a draft. I've been considering rhymes for Nietzsche.
Obituary
His birth was shrouded in a mist
And childhood anecdotes are scant.
His Dad was permanently pissed.
His Mum was probably a plant.
Some say He wasn’t born at all,
Who was and is and will be. If
Such longhaired stuff is on the ball
Then God could never be a stiff.
Hard evidence that He is dead
Is thin, and folks who shoot the breeze
Are either mad or bad or Red
Or freaks or geeks or all of these.
God in His life is many things,
A spirit, beggar, man of parts,
A burning bush, a King of Kings
And generous patron of the Arts.
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