These poems were all written by Colin Jones in September 2006.

Imagine what he does in a year.

September Soliloquy

September

Tis now my own death I must contemplate,

Not knowing what will be my eventual fate,

My mother and my father, both have gone,

None know of what they did or might have done.

Their purpose was like mine to live then die,

And few will know of me and I ask why,

We live at all, for there seems to be no aim

For nature is a wheel that seeks no gain,

Fed by decay from all those that have died,

Regardless of their dreams and prayers and pride.

Thus to decay surely I will recede,

Perhaps to where my spirit will be freed.

Billions have died, most unknown to me,

Have they gone forever or are they now all free?

02 Sep 06

A VETERANS PRAYER

Let friends meet beyond the mystic veil,

Let love follow those who duly die,

Let those left behind know we did not fail,

As now on freedoms wings we fly.

Let them sing our praises ere we weep,

Tears defined by thoughts of past regret

That dreams disturb our celestial sleep,

With duties left undone, and goals unmet.

Let the great creator soften every soul,

That death does not make glad their hearts,

That we are now in passing through made whole,

As the mysterious spirit from our soul departs.

For we have fought the fight and done our best,

Now we ask for peace and tranquil rest.

02 Sep 06

ONE CAN BUT TRY

How do we bring together those good folk,

Of different views that often provoke,

Debate and argument leading to despair,

With random insults flying everywhere.

Is there an island a sanctuary to behold,

Where from the restraints of censorship love unfolds,

To please the passion of ambitious thought,

By closing the mouths of braggarts by retort,

That offers not the democracy of clear choice,

But rules by dictatorial persuasions of the voice.

Perhaps in seeking a pedestal of ones own,

The minor King who dreams of such a throne,

Ought yet to learn that there is no such place.

For men will state their views and debate their case.

04 Sep 06

THE LIGHT IS ALWAYS PERFECT

The light is always perfect where Angels are made,

And their halos last forever and never will they fade.

Some are taken from the forest still not yet a full-grown tree,

A sapling from a golden glade ever young to be.

When I saw you laughing at the complex mortal world,

You were a beautiful flower with petals still unfurled,

Oh, I knew you would be selected to serve an Angels role,

For I could tell by your smile that you had the right kind of soul.

So now you are in heaven where you can still look down on me,

My cherished little sapling still not yet a full-grown tree.

And you’ll live here inside me from whence your body came,

And until we meet again in deep sadness I’ll remain,

For we who are still mortal; we who must suffer so,

Must await our own calling that through the veil we may go.

05 Sep 06

YOU CANNOT GROW AN APPLE ON AN ORANGE TREE

1

Oh what fool is this, who would censor words,

Who plays the judge to extinguish absurds,

To set himself on a pinnacle high,

Ever reaching for peace; yet the truth denies!

There are fields of nettles and fields of flowers,

And desert plains and places of showers,

And where the flames of the uncouth burn,

There are lessons in destruction for all to learn.

Call it what you will, I call it shame,

That any citizen deride his leader’s name,

Where one has the freedom to vote and elect,

Or make another choice; choose to reject,

Without the censorship of dictatorial hale,

That causes democracy to stumble and fail.

2

The Fox you’ll never turn into a lamb,

Regardless of any such righteous plan,

For neither one cares for the mind of the other,

And differences, censorship never can smother.

The apple will not grow on the orange tree,

And a bigot another’s point never will see,

And shooting the foxes but lemmings the lamb,

Leaving you with your finger stuck in the dam.

Oh where is the common sense in intelligent man!

Why does he not know the truth from a sham!

Why is he so arrogant that he’ll not lower his sword,

Though his valiant charges bring little reward?

For he’ll never allow another the last word …

What is intelligent in that ? It’s actually absurd!

3

Let the primroses grow where primroses grow,

Let the cactus bloom where the desert winds blow,

Let the great seas rage upon the proud shore,

 Never shut your window never shut your door,

For the snowman melts in the Summer Sun,

And the brown leaves fall when the summer is done,

And the brown wolf responds to the vultures call,

while the clever  cat waits for the night to fall.

Around dim lights the schemers will scheme,

While braggart heroes on the podium are seen.

The immigrant goes to where his own kind live,

And those with nothing are the ones who give,

So let life be as life ever will be,

Because you cant grow an apple on an orange tree.

05 Sep 06

INVITE NOT DOGS

Invite not dogs to the chicken coop

If you intend to raise good eggs,

Because all you’ll get is a brownish soup,

Of mashed up arms and legs.

It makes no sense to graze a goat,

Where lots of tigers are,

Nor to go to sea without a boat,

A thousand miles from shore.

You know some folk are always right,

And some are always wrong,

Because they live in pure white light,

Or in darkness they belong.

That’s why the birds are given flight,

And the fishes a billabong

05 Sep 06

THE MAN WITHOUT A SOUL

I remember his heaven an empty hole,

A nothing place without a soul,

Where he may now be lost for good,

No spirit rising from his bone and blood.

Where is he now who vented spite,

On those he deemed were never right.

Who valued life in dollars and cents,

Obesity the consequence.

Is he with the God he did not accept,

Reassessing the level of his intellect,

Cringing with fear lest he be thrown,

Into the nothingness he now bemoans,

That once was where he bragged he’d go,

Because he thought he knew what he did not know?

2

We are such fools we who guess and dream,

Needing something to believe in it would seem,

Even if its belief in none belief, we mean,

To suppress our grief and fear of the unseen,

With something! even egotistical self,

That leads to disregard of our mortal health.

Yes we are foolish we who desire,

To be seen above others searching ever higher,

Stubborn and stupid disregarding the real,

For a day in the sun for the emotion we feel,

When we consider ourselves so righteously pure,

That we seek to dictate our own chosen law,

As though we are exempt from the rain and the snow,

That only, we know, what we really don’t know.

3

So if we do not believe then why do we rave,

Forever pushing the point from birth to the grave,

Trying to convince everybody that we must be  right,

Ridiculing and accusing and being impolite.

And why do believers do exactly the same,

Shouting from the hilltops their creators name,

Fearful of  thoughts that they might be terribly wrong,

Doubts creeping in to rattle their gong.

Does anyone see the reasons why people do this,

Note the insecure passions reaching for bliss

Or the strong forceful denial that illogical faith,

Is the myth of the vain who worship a wraith.

So self centered we are the wider landscape is dim,

As we roll with the boat on an ocean of whim.

07 Sep 06

THE FIRE LIGHTERS

Like Jackals they sit in wait, waiting for the fool,

Who speaks of anything, over which they might drool

For they are the subtle fire lighters sitting in the shade,

The deceitful snide provokers for animosity is their trade.

They are not like one so open that they speak their mind,

For they prowl in the shadows not that easy to find.

They are only seen in the firelight when they need to howl,

When they sense a victory because  no one heard them growl.

They are weak deceptive people, who flatter as they crawl,

To those who hold the power but have no real power at all..

They are educated morons with egos extraordinarily wide,

Who believe in nothing except their own concave pride

Horrid obese people who feed off another’s thoughts,

The germs that always settle in well intended resorts.

THE CENTRE OF THE BOARD

He  will build his fires in our back yards,

Over which he will boil our blood,

And  we shall read the words of bards,

Whom we now know understood.

Tis a  fool who invites his foe to live,

Inside the walls of his own domain,

Lest they speak the tongue and wholly give,

Christian elegance to their name.

The world as it as always been,

Is divided into a religious twain,

The battle for supremacy is an evergreen,

That burns with a perpetual flame.

In the centre of the board rules the great regime,

For ‘tis from there that the creator came.

10 Sep 2006

9/11

Listen to the silence,

Now the smoke is gone,

Listen to the spirits,

Of heroes every one.

Feel their gentle fingers,

Caress and touch your face,

That their memory ever lingers,

When you visit this foul place.

Watch them rebuild the towers,

Brick by burning brick,

Like seeds producing flowers,

Where the nettles grow so thick …

But listen to the silence…

While you choose which flower to pick.

10 Sep 06

A TRIBUTE

1

I cant so far remote know of the pain,

That memory delivers to the grieving heart,

Of turmoil and distress both cruel the same,

That will over a lifetime fade but not depart.

I can but know what my sad eyes do view,

Upon the screen that shows the tragic scene,

Absent yet involved for my mind being true,

Was there in that same place where I’ve not been.

Tis true the devils struck without remorse,

Giving up their lives for reasons based on hate,

For what other reason could man seek this course,

Mind patterned to a fundamental fate …

And where they struck innocent folk lay dead,

And still the cry of pain lives in my head.

2

This was not war this foul religious deed,

Performed my men with minds processed to hate,

This was a crime against our basic seed,

Against the moral values of a peaceful state.

It killed and maimed and shattered hearts and souls,

It turned to rubble two great landmark towers,

Yet as the spirits rose from those red coals,

There formed a stronger faith that bloomed like flowers,

Across the vastness of the United States,

In every heart and soul and limb and brain,

In every man and woman who with love relates,

That they stood tall and strong despite the pain.

God bless America long shall she be free,

To serve the world for as long as a world may be.

13 Sep 06

IF YOU LOOK WITH LOVE

All that is suffered is to test you,

Raise resilience and make you strong,

For the bird that flies into the wind,

To its maker will always belong.

We may well bend under our burdens,

We may suffer great anguish and pain,

But these trials will manifest hope,

That with faith we will always retain.

One must accept the results of ones trauma,

In order to face the problems to solve,

And not fight the demons within us,

For if we do they will never dissolve.

If you look with love at the mirror,

A miracle in you will evolve.

13 Sep 06

LOVE IS EVERYWHERE

Why is there a guard at your gate,

If you are sincere in your belief,

Is it to block all spite and hate,

Or because you fear the thief?

There is no need to guard the truth,

For truth dissolves the lie,

Without a need to provide the proof,

To condone the reason why.

I’ve always thought that good and right,

That surrounds us all like air,

Can change angry voices to polite,

Draw joy out of despair …

For light glows in the darkest night,

And love is everywhere.

13 Sep 06

LET OTHERS WITH LOVE REPLY

All wrongs we have done are paid for,

If you live long enough to know,

And regret is the passion of emptiness,

From which many traumas flow.

Self sorrow is a debilitating sickness,

Requiring positive thinking to cure,

And courage is needed and God,

For without the creator you’re insecure.

But it is you who must make the effort,

For there is help for those who try,

For there is no such thing as failure,

And by trying you’ll soon know why.

Let your thoughts be concerned with others,

And let others with love reply.

13 Sep 06

YOU KNOW

You know, you can never be prepared for war,

For the fear the destruction and the gore,

For the desperation the shock and the trauma,

From a reality you have not experienced before.

It overwhelms you as fear drains away,

To be replaced by a cold chemistry of  calm,

That you feel  you could any person slay,

That no foe  can render you harm.

But when you reach the misty peaks cold  crown,

You must plunge back down over its cliffs to earth,

Each decent  being a misery quite  profound,

That lingers in the recesses of your worth.

In random dream to revisit time after time,

For 'tis in the inner sanctuary where the demons dine.

14 Sep 06

BUT THEN

The creator is always there inside you,

But he does not influence your thought,

Unless you recognize his presence,

And practice what you were taught.

Then he becomes your prop and mentor,

And guides you every day,

And gives you strength and courage,

To help you on your way,

Through turmoil and through hardship,

Through poverty and pain,

And casts away the manacles,

And both the lock and chain ….

But then man comes before us ….

And puts them back again.

14 Sep 06

IF

If I enter then the conflict

 a stranger to the foe,

Perhaps my neutral flag

will a friendship show,

Though I wear not the armor,

that you wear in the field,

Nevertheless I carry weapons

 and a strong invisible shield .

Yet tis true my better nature

is one of tranquil peace,

So perhaps by my membership

your tranquility will increase.

And possibly the sniping

 will permanently cease.

15 Sep 06

WHY THE POET IS SAD

I was asked, “Do you believe what you write”

I replied “Only when I write what I believe”

And they smiled much to my delight,

I laughed saying “and I give all I receive ”.

“So you suffer the retributions,

The anger and the scorn,

From writing things you don’t believe,

Things that may do you harm?”

“yes” I said 'tis the poets lot,

If he seeks to discover truth,

He must look from where his eyes are not,

And seem indifferent and aloof”

“Is that then why the poet is sad ?”

I answered “yes. That is the truth”.

15 Sep 06

THE SOUTHERLY

Close all the deadlights matey,

Make flush every hatch,

Set the highfield lever firm, my boy,

We have a southerly wind to catch.

We’ll be hobby horsing in a head sea,

After boxing the compass hey?,

So we’ll be clinging to the bulwark,

For a good part of the day.

Close reefed will be the sails mate,

The hand log will be retrieved,

And with the anchor in the anchor well,

We’ll be by spray and salt received.

As we ride out the southerly buster,

The bow slapping into heavy seas.

No we are not a ketch,

a cutter or a sloop,

Nor a schooner, nor a brig,

 Barquentine or canoe,

We are not a Brigantine

nor a Wishbone Ketch,

with its stay sail and Jib,

doing  a fair northern stretch.

We are nor a BB,

Nor a CVN

A DE or SS,

A CV nor a DM ,

We are just a small ship,

But not any of them.

The clew couplings are stripped

 the cleats are all lose,

The insert pins have been lost

 from the clevis pins,

The coach bolts are rattling

 the rudder gudgeons are  gone,

Tis but a matter of time

before this southerly wins.

But the pulpit still holds,

And to the wind we’re oblique ,

So if the bulwarks are strong,

We’ll reach the destiny we seek

In our battened down yawl,

That some people think weak .

15 Sep 06

IN THE HANDS OF GOD

There is no joy in being sad

No glee in loss and pain,

Yet perhaps you might be glad,

Without feeling any shame.

For God knows why they had to die,

He stood by them when they fell,

He snatched their spirits from the fire,

And heaven replaced their hell.

So if you feel an inner joy,

Where your spirit connects with God,

Fear not for this none can destroy,

For they have risen from the sod.

A knowledge that can cure your pain,

For all is in the hands of God.

15 Sep 06

AS GRACIOUS AS THE ROSE

What am I if not a wayward seed,

I fell among the nettles there to bleed,

But I came not from a nettle bed at all!

For from a bed of flowers I did fall.

What does a tulip do as a nettle dressed,

Except to hide his face from all the rest,

And hide in the lonely recesses of the world

A daffodil in a self made dungeon curled.

Yet what does the humble rose learn from the weeds,

Tis a host of lovely flowers that they breed,

That bloom as fair and righteous as the tulips are

All in their place unseen for they are poor ….

And I in humble thought write in my prose ..

That the flowers of weeds are as gracious as the rose

15 Sep 06

WAS HE ABLE

What of the people; the unborn,

Who met young Able all forlorn,

Were they the results of apple seeds,

Where came he with his sexual needs.

And all of them would one day drown,

In a 40 day  flood of great renown.

Then did the world all come from Noah,

The reaper and the humble sower,

Black and white and multicolor,

All greeding for the paper dollar.

The great blond Viking the Negro tall,

The Chinaman and the Jap so small,

There seems no answers for this tale,

I’ll leave it for the blokes at Yale.

All living things decay,

When their living things are dead,

They just rot away,

Their legs their brains and head.

Everything is consumed,

All but the bodies boney frame,

Not only this day do I remember you,

But on all the days of my lifetime

Three years of not forgetting you,

Watching your bright star ashine.

16 Sep 06

A MAYBE

I die not to cause you pain dear one,

But to alleviate my own,

So please don’t cry when I am gone,

For I will not be alone.

I’ll visit you throughout your life,

Just to see how you are,

So I’ll be there mid any strife,

That pushes you too far.

Yes I regret my leaving you,

For I was your  only love,

And all the pain I put you through,

I now realize from above,

Was because I did not trust in God,

And accept his perfect love.

16 Sep 06

THE OZ BOMBARDIER

It’s black elytra

has four yellow spots,

but its not just a beetle

 with a quad of spots,

it’s a bombardier beetle

 and as its name implies,

 it lets loose an explosion

 to cloud your eyes.

It’s a  vapor of hydrogen peroxide

 part of its gas,

Twenty eight percent

 of its explosive mass

truly that’s all I wanted to ask,

do you know of a beetle with so much ass?

16 Sep 06

SMALL EAGLE

Wisdom is the wasted seeds we sow,

that is lost to  childhood as we grow,

who then and now will always know,

why the streams and rivers flow.

yet some lose not this gift of birth,

as one I knew who sculptured worth,

upon the wastelands of the Earth,

and shared with wilderness her mirth.

and from the shadows and the shades,

from winding rivers and cascades,

she reaped great wisdom of decades,

and left it where it never fades ….

among the children of her soul,

to let them know that they were whole.

Australia only has one Bombardier Beatle,

(subfamily Pseudomorphinae) but there are

500 of them known. They live  under tree bark.

The poor are as greedy as the rich

For ‘tis the rich they want to be,

Wealth does not good health restore,

Though the poor may not agree.

Few Christian priests are poor,

Few give of what they make,

Tis not their gifts they share,

Nor the money they do take.

Everyone can talk,

But it matters only what you do,

Be it just to walk,

Along a pathway that is true,

18 Sep 06

LONG PAST THE HOUR

There was the man who waited for the Lord,

But he died and the Lord had not come,

And another and another waited in accord,

But they died as the other had done.

And for centuries people waited;

But the Lords promise was not fulfilled,

That finally they debated ..

And many men fought and were killed.

The temples and churches grew rich,

The priests grew fat in their bower ,

While the people began to think for themselves

That soon they were challenging the power,

Of the Lords promise that truth now repels.

 For it is now long past the hour …..

And no one believes the story he tells.

18 Sep 06

GOD MADE THE GUN

 God made a gun, and said

“if you use this you will kill

Something or somebody dead,

For revenge or for thrill”

They went about their killing,

Until the world was at war,

Fought at first by the willing,

Until the devastation they saw.

But though they all cried for peace,

they would not sacrifice the gun,

thus the wars they increase,

and will never be done …

for the Lord made the gun ..

that wars might be won.

19 SEP 06

SIMPLY YOUR FRIEND

Tis an Ant Lion you are but your motives seem good,

And you appear to be honestly made,

Yet you are a man, filled with water and blood,

Thus part of your structure stands in the shade.

You are kaleidoscopic and aloof , quite deceptively so,

The patterns of your hues are grand,

But I wonder how straight is the row that you hoe,

And how many blisters you have on your hand.

Let me not seem to rebuke the words that you write,

Nor to doubt all the good will that you send,

For the knots I untie are not loosened with spite,

And are left tied as they were in the end.

My regards unto you for I may seem impolite,

But more  seriously, I am simply your friend.

19 Sep 06

POOR AND RICH

the poor are as greedy as the rich,

for 'tis the rich they want to be,

their condemnations are more often kitsch,

for they long for the money tree.

those endowed with the silver spoon,

having not toiled to justify gain,

are oft elegantly chaste and in tune,

but are more likely to suffer from shame.

for money buys schooling and place,

although intelligence may not be there,

that leads to eventual disgrace,

that the poor rich are unable to repair.

ill equipped to manage their place,

they suicide in desperate despair.

There are no bells left in the bell tower,

And the bell ringer’s ropes are gone,

Though they used to ring every hour,

There’s no bells in the belfry, not one!

The weathercock that pointed direction,

From the apex of the steeple on high,

Is now absent thus avoiding detection,

For reasons that I cannot say why.

20 Sep 08

DO YOU NOT JUDGE

Do you not judge me by the words that I write,

According to the thoughts in your brain,

You might gather but sadness or laugh with delight,

But each is a judgment that you  ascertain.

When you quote from the bible a much altered verse,

Is it not a judgment you’ve made,

A spontaneous quote, or perhaps one you rehearse,

But one chosen to uplift or degrade.

If the verse was not known that you looked in the book,

In order to quote it where I could see,

Then your action offends the quote that you took,

For it was premeditated judgment of me.

The God that I love forgives the unwise,

I think with some thought you will agree.

21 Sep 06

JUDGMENT

It is foolish to think that it is not your place to judge,

Another mans actions that may affect you,

For the choices you make are all judgments you know,

That affect everything in life that you do.

How can you teach if no judgment is made?

How can you decide what is right and wrong?

How can you coax and how can you persuade?

How can you praise God to whom you belong?

Quoting wise verses from Gods holy book,

That are words written a long time ago,

 Defines not the actions that you undertook,

To make certain processes flow.

It is in action that judgments are truly made,

Not in words subject to emotion and  tirade.

21 Sep 06

CHASING TAILS

I am not to judge you; yet in judging not I judge!

Fair is your signature but yet mine I smudge.

My evaluation is as your own principled thoughts will be,

For you will dislike or you will be aloof of me!

Should I like walking through your nettled grove ,

Or better yet soft tread where your flowers strove,

To turn their stings into something to behold,

Should I not notice that your heart is cold.

Having faith in that which never eventuates is fine ,

It serves to dismantle doubts throughout your time,

And if there’s nothing then it matters not,

He who we thought was held for ransom; he was shot.

As for us old folk we chase our elusive tails,

For we know that sort of chase always fails.

22 Sep 06

WHAT GOD HAS REFUSED

What God has refused makes him more conspicuous,

Than what he has been attributed to having done,

Some claims border on the ridiculous,

Many expectations are thoughtless in some.

One cannot elude the real of reality,

By tossing their problems into the arms of God,

This is a foolish but human frailty,

For the Lord has passed from the side of the sod.

What you have is faith in your creator,

That there is a place beyond this world of the man,

That when God raises you up, sometime later,

Your spirit might be returned to where you began.

Meanwhile we do our best through the hardships,

Imposed by God to implement his plan.

22 Sep 06

BLOOD RED FLOWED THE STREAM

Your God is but a thought inside your head,

Use your thoughts lest your God be dead.

For on the Earth you are quite alone,

A complex soul clothed in skin and bone.

For your brother in dire desperate need,

Will protect his own and sacrifice your seed.

For each of us set to survive or die,

Will for survival all living things deny,

We stand alone and together stand a force,

One with the other shares armour for his horse,

And dies for some one else’s lifelong dream …

He thought was his ‘til blood red flowed the stream.

And God the thought saved not a single one,

For darkness comes to all when day is done.

23 Sep 06

OH THAT!

What is the truth?, Oh that! Well I don’t know,

For it is lost in the perpetual lies we tell,

Pretending that our friends won’t let us down,

That when we feel obnoxious we feel well.

Corruption rules the world yet we respond,

For a better life we win if we service greed,

Tolerating people whom we know do not belong,

Pretending that we are the righteous seed.

Behind our false fronts we stand in all our pride,

Strutting our way through life brandishing guns

Yet we are mostly hollow boulders deep inside,

Clinging to every teardrop that from us runs...

Lest by the truth we cause the great divide,

And discover our God cares not for those who died.

23 Sep 06

MOURN THE BILLIONS THEN

Mourn the billions then!

 From your sadness they’ll not awake!

The bitter teardrops from your pen,

Will not their souls remake!

Mourn then by your self,

That where you walk this day,

You do so in good health,

The dead hear not the words you say.

Make noises loud and clear,

That will filter through the screens

To never reach the ears...

Of those who manufacture dreams,

That we can all pretend,

That some day it will end.

23 Sep 06

TELL ME NOT

Tell me not what you don’t know,

For then to me you lie,

What you believe may make you glow,

For me life ends when you die.

So many words and complex lines,

All avoiding what is clear,

Repeated a million times,

Based on our very natural fear.

Yet nothing is really said,

No trust is ever shown,

Just a faith in mystery fed,

Because the truth remains unknown ..

All this we must deny,

For we do not want to die.

23 Sep 06

DOES ANYBODY KNOW

What is the war about

Can someone tell me true,

And not rant and shout!

Without a biased view.

What is the reason for,

The conflict in Iraq,

The continuing war,

In this country we attacked

What is the purpose now,

Why are our troops still there,

What row do we plow,

Will it lead to our despair.

Does anybody know…

Does anybody know!

23 Sep 06

IF

If you make a lot of noise,

you’re apt to be heard,

For the amplified voice,

 delivers assimilated word.

But in little quiet rooms,

Where whispers fill few ears,

The livery master grooms,

Us for the future years.

Despite emotional voices,

And statements some reject,

From the complexity of choices,

Sounds are delivered without effect.

For it is action that is needed,

And to that we all object.

23 Sep 06

ARE WE AS WE SEE OURSELVES

Are we as we see ourselves? or do we not see,

The image we present to them standing by our knee?

What thoughts we have!? How please I you?

Or do I not please you at all?

All things that are simple things, upon us befall.

What I think they think, they may not think;

is so accurate and true.

For ones thoughts remain a secret lest given out to view.

Thus plagued by speculation , reciting postulations galore,

We turn from the peace we advocate to determine our own war.

And all it is, is sound waves with tremors flats and vibes,

Ending in division organized in biased tribes.

Spitting at their shadows .. the nonsense of their forms,

Who go to bed at night and rise again when morning dawns.

If I kneel down ‘tis not to receive your axe,

But to express the comfort you may well tax,

With quarrelsome words with ill effect,

That I of cause will soon reject,

If what my meaning is, is not sustained,

By the gifts you have so far proclaimed,

As being a quality that becomes a man,

With the ability to qualify if you can,

Fair reasoning, understanding, and restraint,

Which lies in mystery under the paint,

Where rust is apt to bubble and grind,

Seeking the weaker part in kind...

There to express its powerful spite,

Thus wasting ones chance of new delight!

23 Sep 06

FOLK

Black folk are for black folk,

 white folk are for white,

The problem is the black folk,

 think the white folk are right.

And the white folk think the same,

as the black folk do,

So every one is happy,

 unless you’re coloured blue.

Then as the common enemy,

 sweet unity is assured,

And the problem of the races,

 is miraculously cured,

for we can then pull faces,

at the blue folk when we’re bored

don’t ever disagree with Gary,

for he is always right,

or at least he thinks he is,

as would the foolish might.

Everything he utters,

must be worshipped as correct,

so if you close the shutters ,

try to do it with respect.

Like SLAM! them shut with force!!,

To shut out the rhetoric you’ll hear,

That you can then of course,

Sip peacefully of your beer.

Hoping that by some miracle,

He will up and disappear.

24 Sep 06

THOSE WHO ALSO DIED

For those who also died we bow,

Our heads for a minute’s peace,

For their lives were also short in time,

‘Twas but a measured lease.

There are no gravestones at their feet,

No trumpets blow for them,

They were the silent and discreet,

They were the braver men.

They lie on battlefields unknown,

In places without name,

Where rotting flesh and scattered bone,

Denies them greater fame.

But though they may not ere come home,

We’ll remember them just the same.

24 Feb 06

I AM BUT A LITTLE FLEA

1

Oh I am but a little flea

 upon an Elephants back,

Of no account as you can see,

for great powers I do lack.

2

So really when another flea,

Seeks to see me as a mite,

I simply have to disagree,

And do my best to fight.

3

for even though  I’m not a king

with a great expansive realm,

I am the master of my thing,

And stand firmly at the helm.

4

Where I’ll be until I die,

From where no backward step I’ll take,

Just me, myself and mostly I,

and none will I forsake.

24 Sep 06

TO WHOM IT MAY EFFECT

1

Pettiness seems to fit you well ,

By your fools reactions I can tell,

You are such a hollow hypocrite,

Though by your measure full of it!

You miss the point every time,

And cut out words from each line,

To suit the phrases you like most,

About which then you rant and boast.

And try to get those folk on side,

Who’ll overlook your diatribe,

With pleasant little tempting lies,

(There is a word that here applies)

But it will never wash with me,

For through you my friend I can see.

2

Now from the closets crawl the lice,

None looking to say something nice,

For they think at last the chance has come,

To stake a claim to having won,

Some sort of high step on the style,

But find they must yet wait awhile,

For always when one turns to spite,

The assumptions made are never right,

Though they lack the decency to say,

This aint really been their victory day,

They know that they were wrong at heart,

As they slink away like a smelly fart,

To await another chance to make …

Another pathetic ill mistake.

3

I wonder at the minds of men,

Who scheme with words and poison pen,

Who must stand King atop the hill,

Yet lack the ability to fulfill,

In reality the ambitions of their thought,

And in trying are in much error caught.

Who acknowledge none who make the claim,

That they think different; are not the same,

Who will to any distance go,

To undermine whom he thinks his foe,

Based on his politics or his fame,

The two events to him the same,

Enough to sway his kinder light,

To delve in the darker shades of spite.

24 Sep 06

THREE ANGELS

Two angels in his mind stand made,

One bathed in light the other in shade,

Each with a role for each good eye,

Through which to peer and qualify.

Yet one sees black and one sees white,

One approves of day the other of night.

What of the eye not in the head,

The eye of the Angel who is dead?

For rampant on request each one,

The opposite the other will have done.

That never can there be true peace,

Lest one or the other sets to cease,

For the third Angel absent from the head,

Should have been made in place of the two instead

24 Sep 06

A GIFT

Expect people to lie then your lack of trust,

But motivates what you expect,

Though some disappoint to do what they must,

Choosing dishonesty as a thing to reject.

Most folk seem to lie for truth is by  fear,

Of punishment made much aloof,

Also by pride; when doubts do appear,

In a faith that offers no proof.

Yet I in my way could not ever deceive,

This is a very strong principle in me,

 I know by some host when lies I receive,

For through falseness I am able to see.

It is a gift that I have that few will perceive,

But then liars I grant disagree.

I must express what I feel in words correct,

That I have no visions of myself being good,

In the sense that I’m gifted in any respect,

More than  someone who is misunderstood.

I understand not why some cannot write words,

As I write them into my rhymes,

I see them as nonsense and filled with absurd’s,

Yet I’m delighted that others do find,

Something of interest, perhaps an elegant line,

A phrase that causes you to think,

For then I can say I’ve not wasted my time,

And I’m inspired to dip nip into ink

For believe me it’s been hard wearing different attire,

And some people still from me shrink.

If you were a person like me capable no doubt,

Of the things that I am capable of,

You would know I speak softly and never do shout,

And I never envy another or scoff.

You would note that I’m angry and strangely remote,

That I don’t respond very well to love,

That I’m ever changing my shirt, my jumper and coat,

And I play the Eagle as well as the Dove.

That you can’t pin me down for I am your friend and your foe,

But always a man of the truth,

And I’ll take you wherever you ask me to go,

24 Sep 06.

I STAND HERE

1

I stand here in this pool of blood,

As any wounded soldier would,

And gaze out there with vacant eye,

Where fallen comrades helpless lie.

And as they carry me away,

In my heart I deeply pray,

That some of them just like me,

Will yet another fine day see.

Tis all my thoughts as I write this,

Belonging to the nurses kiss,

And those with strong and gentle hands,

Who carried men from bloodied sands,

And from the jungle to the doors,

Of the choppers with the gentle claws.

2

I know my comrades felt like this,

I shared a ward in my own crisis,

And there were terrible things I saw,

Men shattered and torn and some burnt raw.

And most got back because some guy,

Cared enough to fear deny,

To reach the wounded in the field,

Where enemy soldiers lay concealed.

I hated the whirr of chopper blades,

But they inspire in me great accolades,

For the men who risked their lives for those,

Who were saved from lying in the body-bag rows,

And whisked away ill death to cheat,

That they now walk the city street.

24 Sep 06

WHEN

Why did those soldiers go to war,

To defend thoughtless souls like me,

They were the bravest men I ever saw,

But the world is still not free.

It was the same in my father’s day,

It brought no peace at all,

Tis just a break from the violent fray,

Then back to the trumpet call.

 And we, who went to fight our war,

Who did we fight it for?

And now our sons on a foreign shore

Do what we’ve all done before.

When do we measure all the cost,

And say to the world, NO MORE!!

24 Sep 06

PEACE AND WAR

There has never been true peace on Earth,

So long as the moon has rolled around its girth,

War staves not off deaths final fate,

And brief peace will always war inflate.

For when life lemmings into crowds,

Then the scales produce the required shrouds,

And all the harsh viruses and toxic seeds,

To the same peaceful space extend their needs.

Tis war that cleans the contaminations out,

And peace that threatens the round-a-bout,

And all the suffering and distress,

Seems not to change this long process…

For we seem so highly tuned for war…

That it stems directly from our core.

So may be yes we must live with war,

Since we have never been without it before,

But we can try like hell to curb its wrath,

Suffer less the consequences of its aftermath

Maybe re-direct it down a different track,

But it has a bad habit of coming right back.

We could exterminate them who cause it all,

But then there would be no one left at all.

All the religious freaks and unsociable reds,

Whom I’ve heard , its true! Hide under your beds,

And all those folk who don’t think the same,

As we gracious folk who are never to blame.

No I think we are really stuck with war,

But still my friends, I’ve been wrong before.

24 Sep 06

LET US FORGE OUR STEEL

Let us forge our steel

as we await the next event,

Lest we be brought to heel

 by secret forces sent.

For peace is a time

 set aside for the soldiers skill,

To be sharpened and honed

 that instantly he will kill.

The shepherd falls asleep

 in the heat of a Summers day,

But a soldier sleeps not

that intruders he’s able to slay.

and by his accurate shot,

His children are able to play.

Mark well who stokes your camp fire, sir

For though his uniform looks the same,

Make sure his face and card concur

That both are lit in the brightest flame.

Never become unwary sir

For strangers are among us, Sir,

And whom you know not well,

Must not evade your searching stare,

For they may well bring you hell.

Stand not in light lest hands are clear,

Silhouettes must not be neared,

Trust not the word of strangers ,

Lest it be last you ever here,

Regardless of how friendly,

They seem to appear

If I am all the things that suit your anger,

And whatever satisfies your rage,

I guess I’ll ring for mister perfect,

When it is you I wish to page.

25 Sep 06

THE MOMENT

I have done it, it is done, it is gone.

The moment; the event; has past,

It matters not who lost or who won,

The net as I threw is was cast.

It ended the moment it began,

It began at the point of its end,

No resurrection, no purpose to ban,

No substance left to defend.

Cast salt in the brine if you will,

Piss into the wind if you must,

It stays dead what ever you kill,

Regardless of the God that you trust.

Though with tactless or elegant skill,

It was done; it is gone; unto dust.

25 Sep 06

FAYE – REVISITED

Take just a moment, ere it doth pass,

To fill with joy that image in your glass,

That may have lost a touch of its fine glow,

That sadness through its loveliness doth show.

And know that one who cares as much as you,

Will always live in minds that think things true,

As perpetual thoughts dissolving all things wrong,

For in that realm of fine thoughts you belong.

I cannot add much more for you were made,

Far better than my efforts might persuade ,

Thy maker to improve upon my view,

Thus finding those descriptive words of you,

Leave my efforts sadly quite inept,

For the finer words your creator designed  he  kept.

Lang Vei! not Semper Fi,

Lang Vei  where men left to die

Were Indigenous soldiers …

Lang Vei! not Semper Fi!

they wore funny green hats,

the shadow soldiers …

who went to their aid …To die!

Lang Vei! Not Semper Fi!

who can count shadows ...?

that were left there to die

because they were not Semper Fi

25 Sep 06

REMEMBER THEM

there is weeping around the camp fires,

the flames are burning low,

shadow warriors tend the ironwood  biers,

of forgotten victims of the foe.

who lost their homeland long ago,

but did not lose their soul ,

and none beyond the camp fires know,

that remembering makes them whole.

think beyond the hype and fair,

let truth make sad the heart,

remember those who are not there,

that with dignity they depart.

They were the finest of us all,

Who plied the warriors art.

25 Sep 06

THE PARK

Why must I tread so carefully through the park,

Tis here quite safe though maybe not when dark,

But where I see the pathway clear and straight,

What need of caution must I demonstrate?

Perhaps your gate might squeak your dog might yelp,

That I am ‘spooked’ and need to find some help,

But that would be a foolish thing to do,

For you might think that I’m afraid of you.

Yet fearing this ; for I  fear such fear more,

 I think not that through the park I’ll walk.

For always there is someone one will meet,

Who thinks the park was made just for his feet,

And I am bound to step upon his toes …

What might result?? Goodness only knows!

26 Sep 06

Chiquita

I don’t remember birthdays

Nor days when folk depart,

But  I remember those I love,

Forever in my heart.

I  know no words in Spanish,

Yet one word comes to mind,

Chiquita…meaning little one,

It kinda sounds refined.

No matter, I keep your memory,

Where memories should be kept,

Right here, deep inside me,

Where a few years back it crept,

To snuggle up forever,

Where since you’ve always slept.

27 Sep 06

SO MANY QUESTIONS

Why must I have ambition, that I would seek out fame,

That is but a vein condition based on a temporary gain.

Why must I want of anything when I want naught at all,

Why do you think that I’m like you and to every trickster fall

I may well have been a gentleman when I was taught in school,

But who ever thought a man like me could live by such a rule.

I did not choose my nature my character nor my name,

And I am by all accounts a fire and not a single flame.

I care not for love nor lecture my needs are not like yours,

I suffer not from selfish thought nor other people’s flaws

I care for wife and family oh, yes I have them too you know,

What more could I be wanting? Where else is there to go?

I have nothing in my agenda to prove to any one,

I’ll live my life until it ends and then I’ll be gone.

Why do you find it pleasing,

 to feed on one side of the fence,

The grass grows through the wires

 on both sides very dense.

What causes your division

that you must be left or right,

You have two eyes to see with

why close one against the light?

You lack true understanding

 for ‘tis one subject that you preach,

When there are many things of value

 one can benefit  from each .

There is no real value in knowledge

 That has no tolerance to teach.

27 Sep 06

WHO AM I

Am I not the subject of my whereabouts?

Of my church and school,

Of the politics of my household,

Thus just a bloody fool.

For I will never know who I am,

Unless I do something I’m not taught,

Find out why my tutors ban,

Certain kinds of thought.

How do I know that I am right?

Why do I think that you are wrong?

Because someone trained my inner sight,

To make me think that I belong,

To a certain group of singers,

Who sing a certain song.

27 Sep 06

WHAT IS MY IMPORTANCE

What is my importance; while I’m useful it is there,

But now that no one needs me I’ve nothing left to share.

But I try not to be like others trying to push my point of view,

Just because I’ve had my time and I’ve nothing else to do.

No one cares who I was except maybe family and friends,

And my rantings and ravings will not change any trends.

Folk will be living out their lives long after I have gone,

And hell, in all those billions I was only one.

The words I spoke yesterday have already been forgotten,

And billions of bits of paper lie on rubbish dumps going rotten.

Its just talk and silly feelings fear of death and selfish pride ,

Myths and mother nature from whom the truth we cannot hide,

All of it has no real purpose its just a wheel inside a sphere,

With repetitive tides of time made of lust and pain and fear.

If an Angel needed wings to fly with,

Then he would be nesting in a tree like a bird,

Instead of hiding behind clouds in heaven,

Or standing guard over a celestial herd.

© September 2006 by Colin F Jones

Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork

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