Rise Above The Dung Heap

Brothers, heed my call!

As our sphere becomes a cesspit,

Where intolerant effluent flows,

Blooming like opinion’s night soil,

Let us keep our sacred hall

A place of rest from petty shit

Free from vile intemperant glow

Supplanting our harmony with moil.

So brothers, please, I beg you all,

For this time we rest and sit

Let’s keep our chamber pots below

Lest our tempers seethe and boil.

Brothers, please, let’s keep this space

A harmonious place of restful grace.

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