These two poems were typewritten on a single sheet, in a folder full of high-school era papers.

I'm impatient with Baptist-type wheezes
About the great prophet named Jesus
How he thaumaturged, lo!
And how Darwin ain't so;
As for me, I've evolved from the rhesus.
	                 —the Stubborn Intellectual 

Hell-Fire Blues

Oh, I'm going down to the lake of fire,
Gonna burn forever on Satan's pyre;
Gonna sing and dance out the sides of my shoes
When we do them Hell-Fire Blues.

I'll have sulphur for breakfast and brimstone for lunch
On rocky stalagmites I'll gleefully munch.
I'll work for the newspaper, the New Hades Journal;
I'll write a great column about things infernal.

Don't give me a seat on a heavenly cloud
'Cause I'm my own man, of myself I am proud.
I'll do artwork galore, and study a lot,
Though I must admit, it'll be kinda hot.

I'll bebop and swing with my sweet little belle,
Movin' and groovin' through the caverns of hell.
Gonna sing and dance out the sides of my shoes
When we do them Hell-Fire Blues.
                            —Walter Rhoads