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Sunday, 6 December 2015

A letter of complaint from an end user

So.

As a few of you will know, I am a radical, fundamentalist agnostic. One of the things which made me this way was my consideration of the problem of evil. My father is very ill at the moment and I need someone to be angry with. The following poem is A.) bad B.) short C.) written by someone with a judeo-christian background so references a lot of that sort of shit. For the record the kind of God I don't believe in is nothing like the judeo-christian one. Other faiths actually have better, though still gravely flawed, belief systems but I'm not rhyming Krishna with "shit, nah" for reasons of ignorance, cultural appropriation and bad penmanship. So this is the poem you're getting. I also apologise for using the word "man" on at least one line where I clearly mean "everyone". I am restricted here by the cultural artifacts of my outdated language and an inexplicable desire to make a poem that rhymes rather than the good kind. Here it is.

A Letter Of Complaint From An End User


I do not like this place you made,
Where once you claim a Garden laid,
Till human hand a fruit devoured:
Forever your creation soured

To me this seems a poor excuse,
For death, destruction and abuse,
A million generations passed,
And still you claim the die is cast?

You sent your son, to show us... what?
You're cruel to those whom you begot?
We knew since Job, since Abraham
The glee you take in teasing man.

There's some who say: don't make a fuss!
His plan is hid from things like us.
Smallpox? War? Tsunami?
Oh, riddles of divinity!

Now I like puzzles, riddles, rhymes,
But I can't say that these aren't crimes,
So I call bullshit, Lord Divine,
Your nature's merely serpentine.

Now hear my verdict, listen well, 
If in every place you dwell,
Do not preach you did not hear:
Guilty: Hatred, Pain and Fear.

A billion counts and, counting still,
How much can you still fulfil,
From torturing the things you made?
I feel the Apple's price is paid. 

I do not like this place you've built
Was once a garden, now just silt
I ask of Muslim, Christian, Jew
To turn to God and say: Fuck You


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