Sometime in 1962, Yevgeny Yevtushenko met Amis in England, and asked him if he were an atheist.  Amis replied, "Well yes, but it's more that I hate him.".
    The first poem, "A.E.H.," affectionately parodies A.E. Housman's style.

            Flame the westward sky adorning
            Leaves no like on holt or hill;
            Sounds of battle joined at morning
            Wane and wander and are still.

            Past the standards rent and muddied,
            Past the careless heaps of slain,
            Stalks a redcoat who, unbloodied,
            Weeps with fury, not from pain.

            Wounded lads, when to renew them
            Death and surgeons cross the shade,
            Still their cries, hug darkness to them;
            All at last in sleep are laid.

            All save one who nightlong curses
            Wounds imagined more than seen,
            Who in level tones rehearses
            What the fact of wounds must mean.
 

    The second poem is from Amis' novel The Anti-Death League.  In the story, it is sent anonymously to an Army chaplain, Major Ayscue.  (The misspellings and bad punctuation are deliberate, put in by the fictional poet to mask his identity.)  But the poem expresses Amis' own feelings exactly.

            TO A BABY BORN WITHOUT LIMBS

            This is just to show you whose boss around here.
            It'll keep you on your toes, so to speak,
            Make you put your best foot forward, so to speak,
            And give you something to turn your hand to, so to speak.
            You can face up to it like a man,
            Or snivvle and blubber like a baby.
            That's up to you.  Nothing to do with Me.
            If you take it in the right spirit,
            You can have a bloody marvelous life,
            With the great rewards courage brings,
            And the beauty of accepting your LOT.
            And think how much good it'll do your Mum and Dad,
            And your Grans and Gramps and the rest of the shower,
            To be stopped being complacent.
            Make sure they baptise you, though,
            In case some murdering bastard
            Decides to put you away quick,
            Which would send you straight to LIMB-O, ha ha ha.
            But just a word in your ear, if you've got one.
            Mind you DO take this in the right spirit,
            And keep a civil tongue in your head about Me.
            Because if you DON'T,
            I've got plenty of other stuff up My sleeve,
            Such as Leukemia and polio,
            (Which incidentally your welcome to any time,
            Whatever spirit you take this in.)
            I've given you one love-pat, right?
            You don't want another.
            So watch it, Jack.
 

    And here's an addendum, quoted from Martin Amis' memoir Experience (p. 237):

         Princess Diana used to claim that her favourite poem was 'Ye Wearie Wayfarer' by Adam Lindsay Gordon, four lines of harmonial Victorian rubbish that go as follows:

          Life is mostly froth and bubble,
          Two things stand like stone.
          Kindness in another's trouble,
          Courage in your own.

        For fun, Kingsley had recently rewritten 'Ye Wearie Wayfarer', imbueing [sic] it with something of the spirit of the times:

          Life is mainly grief and labour,
          Two things get you through.
          Chortling when it hits your neighbor,
          Whingeing when it's you.