Colin F. Jones
KALEIDOSCOPIC BALLOON ~ PART 8
What does the mouse do that the cat does not?
Is the stem sap in a flower the same as blood?
Does a horse die when through the brain it is shot?
Is it not natural for a great river to flood?
Who lies between the two parts of my sandwich,
What is the meat that lies reluctantly there,
Could it be a human prolongation an appendage?
Snipped from someone’s dead face somewhere?
How much do we think we know about things?
Do we not take them for granted each day?
Do we not drink strange water and eat killed things?
Do we not rot in the soil and the clay?
It’s funny how we rely on what Santa Clause brings,
And believe all that the so called experts say.
The elitist view, ripe once in England,
Has now been adopted by the dawning light,
By the once trodden on rising up to prominence,
Protected by the words called “human rights.”
The labourer now oft owns the factory,
But has not the nous to run its soul
Like a slave who suddenly becomes the master,
Tis not his ingrained established role.
Though an improved system is emerging,
These incompetent people are prone to fail,
For they have not yet learned to lack compassion,
And don’t understand the fine detail.
Yet pompous they will strut and struggle,
Until their hopes and dreams prevail.
When you argue you reject free thinking,
When you judge you reject free speech,
When you criticize you are just seeking,
To control something out of your reach.
Why do you respond to the opinion of someone?
With an opposing opinion of your own,
When no question was asked of any one,
And would pass quietly if left alone.
Is it not to impose your own volition?
Over the other mans thoughts and mind,
Lest it bothers your uncontrolled condition,
That which is so egotistically designed.
Some cannot abide another’s rapport
But me… well I don’t really mind.
But few can ignore the adventures of others;
Few can resist looking over the fence
Women compare themselves to sisters and Mothers,
Men strut about in oblivious pretence.
We are jealous of those who make more money,
Our car must be the biggest and best,
We can’t resist dipping our fingers in honey;
We like to think we are ahead of the rest.
To forgive is to accuse another of wrong doing,
For you do not forgive them acknowledging a right,
It is your own freedom that you are pursuing,
And self elevation to an applaudable Height.
If you forgive only because you think you should,
Then in your reason you will not find delight.
Ode to a Politician
The black man casts off his cultural mask,
All that he believed in is a forgotten past,
All those who died for the values of race,
Are no longer etched in his elegant face.
His religion has changed to that of his peers
Who enslaved them for so many terrible years.
He sings their hymns much better than them,
Writes more fluently with their immaculate pen,
As he conforms to the rules he once despised,
When they caused his peoples subjective demise;
For he is now a man of different values and pride,
Now that he is the leader of the other man’s side,
The supreme master of the masters of slaves,
Claiming victory over their valiant sacrificial graves.
He cannot lean backwards he has a forward stoop,
He is now the influence over the postulating group,
He is the urgency, the calmness, the image of hope,
For all of the people that all of them can cope,
With the harsh realities of life that will visit us all,
Be we black folk or white or midgets or tall.
Tis an historical leader who now takes up the reins:
Who’ll need courage and determination as well as brains.
To set a good example for others to follow,
Lest his rhetoric be gibberish and his promises hollow.
Only time and history can prove him to be,
Just another politician or the saviour of the gullible free.
Was it a germ from outer space that floated down,
Into the water where before it could drown,
It struggled over a wet rock into the sun,
That the life of an animal was truly begun.
Was this the first sprout; Mother Nature’s first child,
The stem of the first flower yet to be reviled,
Yet to be battered and torn by changes of clime,
That would alter its beauty to whither with time.
As it competed with rest of the struggling fleshes,
In the perpetual writhe of real life and its fishes,
And insects and grasses and reptiles and weeds,
Eating each other while producing more seeds,
To germinate the perpetual trail of fresh food,
For the serial sequence of Mother Nature’s brood.
What humanity overlooks, nature takes care of.
As we grow rapidly in numbers viruses grow.
The flocks must be culled though the selfish may scoff,
As famine and disease bend the ignorant bow.
The multiplying numbers and depleting environment,
Promises only destruction by life driven need;
The Earth will not sustain the old religious requirement
To populate congregations by sowing more seed.
Be warned all you people; climate change is a symptom;
Global warming is like rain telling us it is wet.
We must curb overpopulation find a workable solution,
Or suffer the consequences of death and regret.
Sickness and famine and warfare will destroy us,
According to the indicator on life’s clock that is set.
Take the flower from your garden and throw it,
Replace it with a carrot and cauliflower and pea,
Fill your flower bed with potatoes and cabbage,
Learn what it is like to be convincingly free.
Put in a rain tank for the storage of water,
Lessen your intake of sugar and meat,
Or push on and create your own slaughter,
For future existence depends on the food you will eat.
Why are you buying all this chemicalised veg,
When you can grow it from seed you can sow,
Without the poisons that lead to the edge,
Of distinction where we don’t want to go.
You are what you eat and sweet nature
Will provide it at the end of your hoe.
Take the flower from your garden and throw it away,
Replace it with a carrot or a cabbage or pea,
Fill your flower bed with potatoes compost and hay,
Then know what it is like to be convincingly free.
Put in a rain tank for the storage of water,
Lessen your intake of sugar and meat,
Or continue along and create your own slaughter,
For future existence depends on what you will eat.
You might like your cities of concrete and glass,
Your homes lined up all numbered and clean,
Each built in a district according to class,
Where stand a lot of closed structures where you’ve never been,
Where the character of a person is measured in dollars,
And people live out a temporary dream.
Can you hear them screaming those caught in the fire fight,
Women and children scorched by the flames of war,
Who are of no concern for they are out of sight,
For most of our loving Christians cannot see that far.
The cross is crimson soaked in the blood of soldiers,
Who waste their lives fighting for God and state,
For nature survives by controlling the hollow boulders
Who do her bidding procuring an inevitable fate.
We are not in control we who are praying,
We are mere puppets in nature’s scheme of things,
We never listen to what the winds are saying;
We concern ourselves with only what Santa brings.
And we shall die long before actually dying,
While those seeking truth will keep on trying.
When a government wants to promote negativity
Scare mongering becomes useful and common,
for they are not seeking to promote productivity,
they want the general outlook to remain solemn.
Without negativity we can’t be raised from depression,
For the incoming messiah the platform must be paved,
For without it he can’t establish the impression,
That without him the nation cannot be saved.
Politics is a cold and calculated process,
One has to be quite ruthless to reach for the top,
Getting things done is the way to impress,
Which is easier done when you own the shop.
For few look behind the door as they enter,
And most don’t question when ordered to stop.
Spirit travels through matter panoptic and infinite,
From one darkness to another in myriad forms,
Where the breath of Creator blows life into matter,
Where our spirits pass through to be divinely adorned,
For we are parts of our Creator, diverse and energetic,
Thus we need to understand and think for ourselves,
Without the oppression of authority that is often pathetic,
That enforces its doctrine as it intrusively delves.
The power is within us but our ego must be banished,
We must share understanding and tolerate mistake,
Being free to make choices means oppression has vanished
Remaining calm when we’re angry is a virtue to partake.
Calm must suppress anger as we think with less emotion
that we avoid conflict, thus causing less avenue for mistake.
if we need reminding to remember tis better we forget,
For wars that are remembered our children will repeat,
Freedom born of death brings only perpetual regret,
There is no such thing as freedom based on victory and defeat.
The natural world requires death and destruction to sustain it,
Part of that is warfare that we human beings wage.
We follow these instincts for we remain ever primitive,
For we have not yet matured and reached a wiser age.
The system of the earth is dependent on Mother Nature,
The more we try to change it the more problematic it becomes,
Only the status quo can guarantee any sort of future,
The more we remember sacrifice the more necessary it becomes.
Perhaps if we read history without our practice of emotion,
We will accept and understand why we cannot live without guns.
The old who’ve lost their stamina have nothing left but wisdom
That they declare to the young who are as they used to be,
But it took them a lifetime to acquire and to proclaim it,
Yet they seem not to understand why the young folk fail to see.
It is the wise who manipulate and control the young warriors;
It is for the old the young die for fighting wars the old couldn’t win.
The young in their turn will grow old with all the wisdom,
Having replicated history that their sons can once again begin.
So the wheel keeps on turning and the war graves keep expanding,
Each generation lives and dies according to Mother Nature’s rules,
While the human race ever vain ever predictable and demanding,
Is recycled through the valley; through the valley of fools.
For still we believe the promises the tired and wearing promises,
That germinate in Natures garden as her most manipulative tool.
The ultimate sacrifice; neatly written journalistic words,
referring to soldiers who were slaughtered in war,
an inaccurate political corruption of despicable absurd’s,
beautifying the ugly tragedy of spilt blood and gore.
They did not give their lives freely, their lives were lost,
they sacrificed nothing; theirs was a reluctant demise,
they were expendable for such is the wasteful cost,
Still evident in their families tear filled eyes.
Let us recall the truth if those sacrificed are to be remembered,
they were the lucky ones for they suffer no pain,
Though some were shot cleanly others were dismembered,
But none can be exploited by their Governments again.
The Ultimate Sacrifice; is such a farcical propaganda,
for they were deliberately sacrificed for political gain.
Fear drives the thoughts of the young who avoid involvement,
The world is a threatening place for them to perceive,
They withdraw into themselves or become angry and illicit,
Their tenuous ego’s no advice will receive.
Yet vulnerable to suggestion and perfect for recruitment,
They can be fashioned by fear to do as they are told,
That in the face of adversity their natural energy to inducement,
Ts often emotional and reckless, and extraordinarily bold.
With a wilful egocentricity that is a characteristic of youth,
They respond to suggestion that makes them feel good,
That they go into battle without questioning truth,
To lose what they are in the cordite and blood.
Most have no experience and maturity comes harshly,
But the realities experienced are not understood.
Soldiers are not free to reject advice from others;
They live in a world that is closely controlled.
Their instructors become their fathers and mothers
Thus with careful manipulation their lives unfold.
They are humiliated at first their minds reassembled,
With repetition and insistent order and threat,
Deprived of a privilege that when finally given,
They more eagerly perform as their desires are met.
It is an age old system requiring attention to duty,
Based on fear of punishment for breaking the law,
Disobeying an order no matter how foolish,
Is an intolerant action especially in the theatre of war.
For obedience is essential and the reliance on others,
That for each other they fight for there is little more.
Aging is a time of anxiety, apathy and discontent,
Of depression, alienation boredom and confusion,
An awareness of self after life has been spent
Seeing the differences in others is no longer an illusion
Ameliorated by humanistic ism, often denying religion,
While clinging to God for they feel insecure,
Still desiring the adventurers role but a homing pigeon,
Tottering on the edge knowing death has no cure.
Oversensitive to criticism some are often vindictive,
Spiteful and unjust narrow minded and vain.
All due to conceit with retaliation predictive,
For beneath the gentlemanly mask resentment is lain.
Although love is enhanced without emotions seductive,
it accompanies self denial, guilt and self blame.
Emotions are strong, though; in the aging and old,
Though they are more objective about the conduct of friends,
Their own advice they don’t follow but being more controlled,
They consider themselves all-knowing on moralistic trends.
Moving closer to death fear restores their beliefs,
Or enhances what they already think is the truth,
They suffer disillusionment with the material world,
And come to accept divinity without a declaration of proof.
But those less effected by religion and mind wash,
See less reason for life and can establish no point,
They accept that death is the end of all life,
That their quite positive opinions no messiah appoint.
This leads us to the only worthwhile debate,
Is there really a God, or just a crutch for a joint.
It is hard for us old folk to love, those who are like us,
We are so much aware of our insecurity and flaws.
We seek tranquil protection from the stresses around us,
So we close all our windows and lock all our doors.
We find none of these things in either prestige or power,
And wealth brings little relief for the enlightened mind,
For our brains are unencumbered thus more logics devour,
Free from the harassments of others that are often unkind.
But frailty assails us and past events come to haunt us,
All the demons we imprisoned seem now to be free,
We can’t escape from our past our deeds and our failings,
As we relive all the sorrow our old eyes clearly see.
So we pray and hope God is finally listening,
Although it is not really inspiring to people like me.
Freed from the shackles of youth and its madness,
I am happy with the calm freedom I enjoy,
Wallowing in the wisdom and pain of old age,
With lots of young folk around to annoy.
Old with old speak much of their problems,
To the young they like giving advice,
Oft believing the past they were part of,
To be the future the young would find nice.
But I don’t sit on the park bench with the others,
Basking in a fast fading sun,
I don’t walk along the road with my brothers,
Reliving again the things I have done.
I just sleep longer beneath the warm covers
Grateful there’s another day to be won.
What to me seems good or bad may not be so,
My perception is influenced by what I can see,
I cannot judge others by the seeds that I sow,
I don’t expect others to be thinking like me.
Each has his or her own perceptions,
Their biases and influences and beliefs,
Their own side to support in elections,
To appoint their most popular chiefs.
They will all think they are right not wrong,
And most often they probably are,
It doesn’t matter so long as their song,
Puts a twinkle in their particular star.
For from darkness we come and too soon,
Return before we have gone very far.
Most old blokes with whom I am acquainted,
Are members of clubs and other such groups,
Into corners themselves they have painted,
Still faithful and good paying troops.
They cling to the events of their past,
As if there is nothing much else left in life,
Though the world is complex and vast,
And they are loved by a more adventurous wife.
Their lifestyles are boring and repetitive,
They think they have seen all that there is to see,
But most have only waded into the ocean,
The water rising only to the height of their knee.
And they often have simply stopped living,
Treading water at the low tide of the sea.
Are we not fools, we who oppose one another?
We who have nothing better to do than talk.
We who are Earthlings! Sisters and brothers,
Who learnt to run before we could walk.
We have lived life and now we grow old,
Vulnerable to dilapidating virus and disease,
Clinging to youths pride; imitating the bold,
Talking much nonsense as we fail to appease.
Oh, I am so much less than I think I might be,
I grow weak from the desire to compete,
But it is short now, the distance I can see,
And my roar is no more than a bleat!
And regrets; oh how they mount up in me!
For I cannot abide suffering a defeat!
©Copyright May 9, 2009 by Colin F. Jones