Colin F. Jones
I cannot say that God is there in everything I do
For seldom do I think of God, no matter what I view.
That everything I say that’s right is due to his advice
Though much of what my thoughts relate is mostly pretty nice.
I’ve learnt by observation that the rain is never snow
I can tell the sound of laughter from the weeping from a blow
And the rivers in the mountains are not like salted sea
And I know I am a humble man the way I want to be
I cannot say I pray a lot and if I ever do
Tis seldom that I pray for me though I may pray for you.
You see, I don’t think God on Earth is asking me to pray
(Or maybe I misread the words the Bible has to say)
I think this life’s for me to live and not for the Lord
Who promises a judgement day that all good men applaud.
Yes, I came from where my teachers told me a lot of God.
And I guess my basic learning on the Lord was moulded on.
But I did not look to Jesus to steer me through my life
Though I used my basic training to avoid the gun and knife.
I have always loved my Mother and I love my Father too
And I love the smell of flowers and I know my heart is true;
I lived through days of hunger and prejudice and strife
But it did not change my thinking of the wonderments of life.
Through years of isolation when great bitterness grew in me
I did not turn to heaven in order to be free.
Instead I wrote my stanzas and cried with lonely pain
That gave me strength and courage to become what I became.
Now here I am, a person something like a withered tree
And I still love life’s wonderment, because I am still free.
So now, when looking backwards at the way life used to be,
I recall all that religion was a failure to me.
For my prayers were not answered; if they were I did not know
And anyway, in my dim world, the results failed to show.
So I left the church and Jesus behind their padlocked doors
And struggled on by myself through loneliness and war.
The battle in my mind, then, was what by tutors I’d been taught
As opposed to what life showed me as a different resort.
Thus, I soon discovered conflict between the real truth
And what the preachers taught me beneath their sacred roof.
So on this day of writing I do not pretend that I
Believe there is a Saviour looking on me from the sky,
For I think the book they read from has distorted common view
For the purpose of giving power to the very greedy few.
It seems always that the injured, the foolish and the hurt
Are the folks that find sweet Jesus like a flower in the dirt.
For those who do not find self-strength, use Jesus as their crutch
Because they cannot cope with life as others very much.
But not all folk need to pass on the things they have to face
And some indeed would consider it a terrible disgrace
Some face their troubles boldly until they’re overcome
And never once decide to pray for a brighter sun.
But those who have not ventured beyond the temple door
Can seldom see the value in what they must deplore.
For their minds are trained like robots to think a certain way;
To rely on certain sentences that certain people say.
So I leave it to the readers to choose their own device
That no matter what you think about, you think about it nice.
If you are a veteran soldier and you suffer mental pain
Then you know that while you think, it then it will so remain.
So we have to train our memories to think of something good
When we fall back in the shadows and flounder in the mud.
We need to think of others when we see the Devil there
And look around and watch our kids – delightful everywhere.
Tis but a drug addicting us to think unpleasant thought
So we must fight with all our strength, this monster to deport.
This invasion of our inner thoughts must, by us, be denied
By love that through forgiveness that is carefully applied.
We need to rise above it by loving what we are;
Knowing we are better than the thing that’s tearing us apart.
And most of all we must forgive the fool who went to Hell
Or we might even follow him and join him there as well.
So let me say in closing, that we are not all the same
Yet we are all what we are ‘cause that’s the way we came.
It’s not for me to think me less than any other man;
In fact I’ll try to be much better if I bloody can.
Some are born to murder as some are born to peace
For Tigers they are Tigers and Ganders, they are geese.
There are fishes in the water and flowers on the plain,
Snow upon the mountain peaks and people on the train;
So be yourselves my brothers and you our sisters too
Be proud of your uniqueness; be proud of what you do
And God, He will await you when you are due to call
And gather you to heaven when you stumble and you fall.
And I will, by your laughter and by your loving ways,
Nurture all the sadness that such joy in me displays.
©Copyright May 20, 2001 by Colin F. Jones