Colin F. Jones
Unto myself; I can think of Jesus Christ.
Make Him serve my mind with better thought
That he becomes a victim of my vice
And not the Lord and master of my court.
God is the tool of many men I meet
Who use his power as power of their own.
They have the wit and tongues that are so fleet
That claims the needy with vocative tone.
How do the young and innocent make a choice
In desperate hours on the battle field?
If what they hear is truth in clever voice
That in every word, false hope is thus concealed.
Tis not the collar that makes the truth acute
For a judge can be as false as his peruke,
©Copyright May 15, 2001 by Colin F. Jones