Colin F. Jones

BIRTH AND DEATH

~ 1 ~

What are you death, what is your power?
You threaten life, every minute, every hour,
We bleed if punctured like a leaking sump,
And bruise like trees with every bump.
What are we then robots clothed in skin,
Attacked by rust and deterioration deep within,
A strange creation complex and devout,
Made not to last for we must all wear out?
Death our master ignores our every prayer,
Destroys us all and causes great despair.
For most do suffer long before they die,
And all do ask then why, Oh why Oh why?
But relentless death heeds no gracious plea,
That bye and bye will be coming to get me.

~ 2 ~

Is death our sentence for the sin of birth?
It ends all life, resident on the Earth,
It breaks our hearts; leaves good folk to mourn
Disputes all reason why all things are born.
Our bodies rot our what-we-are decays,
Our brains and hearts devoured in many ways,
By many creatures who’ll suffer our same fate,
For death leaves nothing to which we might relate.
So where are we? Were we not our minds;
The storage place for thoughts of different kinds,
Our consciousness our knowledge of ourselves,
Our systems centre where all emotion dwells?
So where are we when all these things are dead,
When all our thoughts have rotted in our heads?

~ 3 ~

I have lived with me more than sixty years now,
Quite unaware of who I am somehow
Am I a soul with a Spirit concealed within,
If so such knowledge is extremely thin,
For I feel no presence that isn’t in my head,
And even those thoughts will wither when I’m dead.
I was nothing before my consciousness told me ‘I’m alive’!!
Until my brain was filed with things like a truthfulness and lie,
I was formed inside my Mother by a twain of sperm,
But I knew not of myself for I had this yet to learn.
So my beginning was a mystery as is my tragic end,
And to think this is a cycle is now a growing trend.
That the Spirit is in the semen the sperm that survives,
Resurrecting a new image with the body it revives.

~ 4 ~

The day has passed and a million more are dead
And a million more were born and bred,
While half the world doth grieve their dearth,
The other half rejoice new birth,
As round and round the great Earth turns,
While the great red sun just burns and burns.
And those who know one day they’ll die,
Look up at “heaven” and wonder why,
And pray to a God they hope is real,
That when they die their sins will heal,
That in some way they would not rot,
When their bodies are buried in their plots,
Or burnt to leave but nothing there,
Except their ashes grey and spare.

~ 5 ~

From whence we come we do not know,
And we do not know to where we go,
The beginning a mystery we can’t comprehend,
And mysterious death greets life’s end.
What could be left our image is gone,
Our shape our form all the deeds we’ve done
Were we not created in the image of God,
An image which withered in the sod,
From where ‘tis said the first man’s birth,
Came from the dust of this living Earth,
Shaped and moulded like the beast,
That lived and died as it increased,
For all that blooms must pass away,
for the Earth to survive another day.

~ 6 ~

And we who function just the same,
As a bird and fish as wild game,
Who eat, digest and pass on waste,
And savour smell and savour taste.
Who share the ingredients of our sperms,
As do the reptiles and the worms,
Creating new images of our selves,
With our same features and same smells?
As all the creatures that live on Earth
Do leave by death and arrive by birth.
And though we reason more than most,
Invent belief in a sacred Ghost,
One thing we all uniquely share,
And that is hope and love and care.

~ 7 ~

So I conclude it must be said,
That birth is life and dead is dead,
That beyond them both the truth doth lie,
Yet kept a secret until we die ;
But even then we may never know,
For after death, where do we go?
A question confused by belief and hope,
To justify the will to cope,
To give us courage, strength and pride,
That we can for ourselves decide,
What we are; where we came from,
That when our lives are truly done,
We’ll know that we have loved and grown,
That now it’s time to go on home.

~ 8 ~

Some folk do die when they are young,
Some die ill and some are hung,
Some in fact do die at birth,
And never live life on this great Earth.
What is a child who is not a man,
Who has died before his life began,
With little yet inside his brain,
Who would at sixty be not the same?
What is the fulcrum of our brain,
Which forms our character before we claim
That we do live in a conscious way,
And understand the time of day?
Is the soul, the character with which we’re born
Or just another thought that we form?

~ 9 ~

A soul!!? Or just our families traits,
From genes to which our birth relates,
Our Fathers eyes our Mothers ears,
Both their defects and their fears.
By what do we then measure souls,
That we do claim do make us whole,
When nothing prior to thought is there,
Except the instincts that we share,
With every other living form,
Between the time of dusk and dawn.
Yet the Loch Ness monster! Does it live?
Its mystery makes it sensitive,
Yet we all know it is a sham,
That should have ended when its life began.

~ 10 ~

All mystery describes the great unknown,
An absent image in abstraction sown,
By folk who would seek to profit by,
The false belief it paints on the eye.
For yet the brain which fears demise,
Reacts quite readily to such good lies,
Which offer something that is not true,
That might in some way favour you.
What greater fear lives in our hearts,
That nothing is left when man departs,
That life is just a spontaneous phase,
From an accidental explosion and a blaze;
For the Earth was formed before man came
To form opinions and make their claims.

~ 11 ~

All creatures have a fertile brain,
Which serves their purpose to remain,
Upon the Earth as what they are,
Surviving here, and near and far.
Yet only man can reason true,
To improve the things he wants to do,
Yet some did live yes quite content,
And built no house nor built a tent,
For the environment needed no greater brain,
To survive the harsh and wild terrain,
Than that which provided them with skills,
To hunt the plains and hunt the hills,
Yet even they from mystery claimed,
A spirit whose power was long sustained.

~ 12 ~

“Let him be sung”, meant him would die,
The “pointed bone” would close his eye,
For they believed so true and deep
That soon they died in deaths last sleep.
For belief is just a state of mind,
Be it primitive thought or thoughts refined,
Described to children as they grow,
Lest they as men do fail to know,
Therefore would live instead of die,
To reveal their belief was just a lie.
Yes from great mystery comes great power,
From the scholars pen and ivory tower,
They declare that humans have a soul,
Thus must believe to make them whole.

~ 13 ~

So what do our good Christians think,
Who claim their own beliefs distinct,
From those who also thought they knew,
What they were taught was just as true.
For the power wielded was just the same,
Designed to control and to sustain,
A belief in an absent mysterious Lord,
With life and death his two edged sword,
Who is processed to live inside the brain,
But only in those the Priests could train,
For all belief is a state of mind,
Be it the truth or a lie refined…
And I end with this, for I love you,
That to your God, you’ll ere be true.

~ 14 ~

But let us suppose there is no God,
That a great big bang produced the sod,
And all the animals and the trees,
Cascading falls and hills that freeze,
Were somehow formed from flame and flood,
That formed the complex neighbourhood,
Of nerves and gristle, skin and bone,
And all the micro microscopic clones,
And formed the eye in every head,
To see the world and tear-drops shed,
And made our legs on which to walk,
Developed tongues so we could talk,
And graciously by chance defined,
A way to produce our same kind.

~ 15 ~

So complex yet each body formed,
A unique function to perform,
And every species grows a shape,
According to its food landscape
For all the creatures of the land,
Must eat and drink you understand,
For all are cyclic living things,
That run and walk and fly with wings
All need sweet water to survive,
Though briny for the fish that thrive,
On that same air all creatures breathe,
In order to sweet life receive,
And finely balanced are the scales,
To serve the ants and serve the whales.

~ 16 ~

The world is perfect in this form,
The flowers thrive the insects swarm,
It rains to make the plants all grow,
And on the mountain tops there’s snow,
And even there the birds and bees,
Make merry in the rocks and trees.
Producing more of their own kind,
That stalking predators might yet find,
The vital food it needs to eat,
Its famished hunger to defeat.
To give it strong and nimble feet,
And speed to run when in retreat;
For each requires the others skill,
To live its life that it may kill.

~ 17 ~

The system works the rivers flow,
the Oceans rolling to and fro,
The herds across the meadows graze,
And with the grass the wild wind plays.
Each creature lives until it dies,
Without there ever being whys.
For the great wheel turns as it evolves,
No mystery anywhere to solve,
For everything is living free,
Across the land and in the sea,
That until death will all survive,
For death ensures that all alive,
Will be the best of every breed,
That they transplant the strongest seed.

~ 18 ~

The bird adapts to winging free,
The fishes swim in river and sea,
The buffalo feeds on vast lush plains,
And drink from pools left by the rains.
But then comes man with greater brain,
Who counts the Buffalo on the plain,
To measure what his tribe may eat,
That they do not the herd deplete,
Beyond its means to survive,
For the meat must keep the tribe alive,
But must also keep the Buffalo strong,
That they do graze where they belong.
For they both depend, one on the cull;
The other to keep their bellies full.

~ 19 ~

More tribes have gathered in the hills,
And have learned a lot of survival skills,
And also how to fight and ride,
And develop in their minds a pride.
But they do wonder from where they’ve come,
Each day brings night when day is done,
They see on high the suns red glow,
It gives them life for they all know,
that they would die if it went out,
So to the sun they pray and dance about.
Then they thank the rivers for their fish,
And the vast green plains for their dinner dish,
And soon they erect a totem pole,
To symbolize the spirit of the whole.

~ 20 ~

They see their warriors and children die,
And soon are asking why, oh why,
The mystery clouds the natural brain,
But with the greater thinkers thoughts remain,
For those who worship now the sun,
Have a true religion that has begun.
That superstition becomes belief,
And a weapon for the leading chief,
To impose a law based all on fear,
That brings him power and brings him cheer.
From tribe to tribe the religion spreads,
Each with different patterns in their heads,
That suit the purpose of their law,
And what lies at their tribal core.

~ 21 ~

The world is changed by this new belief,
That claims the existence of a spiritual chief,
Who rules the Earth he shaped and formed,
With woods and valleys so adorned,
With stately mountains as their walls,
From which the cascading waterfalls,
Who lives in mystery in the sky,
Who receives the souls of those who die.
They worship him the one unseen,
The one who lives in their leader’s dream
That makes him dance and makes him scream!
Though all is not what it may seem!
Yes the world has changed for man has come,
With sword and arrow and soon the gun.

~ 22 ~

For in the distance flashing white,
Are ranks of faces in the light,
Who march ashore from masted ships,
With guns and bayonets at their hips,
And soon the forest trees are felled,
The great land plundered drilled and welled,
The Buffalo killed, the rivers damned,
The great green meadows with cattle crammed,
And while their Priests preached of their God,
They turned to mire the sacred sod,
That clothed the tribes and fed their needs,
Wiped clean the wilderness of their seeds.
And the tribes rose up to defend their lands;
To die brave men in the white man’s hands.

~ 23 ~

They came with rifle gun and shell,
And with them came the new word “HELL”,
For he who stood to hold his ground,
Was soon cut down where he was found.
Those who were left were frail and old,
Who watched the white man steal his gold,
And raise from Earth the rich black oil,
From what used to be their sacred soil.
And to their camps the preachers came,
With their God of love to proclaim,
Who was the Saviour of all mankind,
Though of the blood and gore he was quite blind.
For the slaughter went on year after year,
This white God indeed was a God to fear.

~ 24 ~

The ships kept coming across the seas,
With cargoes of food and cats and fleas,
And holds crammed full of Negro slaves,
To work the fields and fill more graves.
More trees were felled more buildings built,
Expanding laws being the main result,
And all was plucked or picked that grew,
And lies replaced things that were true,
For History recorded only those,
Whose biased stories were not the foes,
That praised the Gentlemen who were white,
And their beliefs in what was right,
And woe befell those who did not,
For they were flogged or they were shot.

~ 25 ~

The scales had changed the balance wrong,
Saw swirling smoke and sewage pong,
And mounting mounds of putrid waste,
Across the Earths great beauteous face.
Whales at Sea were killed and maimed,
New boundaries from the poor were claimed,
And all were forced to worship God,
As the one who created them from sod,
Who had given the white man the right to kill,
Enslave the black man and break his will,
To destroy all that stood along his way,
For all was his the Lord did say,
Who they claimed to love and to believe,
But chose to ignore and to deceive.

~ 26 ~

So where did this God so great come from,
Who was worshiped by those who had come,
From far off lands across the seas,
Where men built stone roads and trimmed their trees.,
And horses manes and moustaches too,
Lest they did stain from sipping through.,
Their milk and sugared Indian tea,
Which made them green for all to see.
Where did they find their God indeed,
Who forgave them for their constant greed,
That all they had to do was pray,
That “I am sorry for what I did today”
To be forgiven of their Ghastly sins,
That the same process again begins.

~ 27 ~

So all those folk who were not white,
Well as near to pink, or as bright at night,
Were simple folk who had no soul,
That only God could make them whole,
So long as they admitted sin,
And sought his love and worshiped him,
And let the white man take command,
And work him until he could not stand,
And spare his life that he might live,
To serve and serve, and give and give.
So yes where did this God appear,
That all must love and all must fear,
Perhaps it’s time to seek some proof,
That we can unveil what is the truth.

~ 28 ~

Of all the myths, religion's sects,
From all the books that one collects,
And from the realism of one’s life,
Ones loves one’s pains, one’s other strife,
I’ve found no proof to prove them wrong,
Though some to falsehoods do belong,
And thus cannot be proven right,
To shed true light on a fruitless night,
For if there could be some true proof shown,
The mystery would be soon outgrown,
For without the mystery there is no power,
The brains of multitudes to devour,
And without belief in a pleasant hope,
How the Hell could we with death then cope?

~ 29 ~

So we are born and bred and blessed,
That we can pass the righteous test,
And admit that we do sin from birth,
And that we do plunder Gods fine Earth.
For we are vain and cruel and proud,
We lie and cheat and shout out loud.
But yet we are so kind as well,
And love so much we die in Hell,
To take a step towards our birth,
Where from comes all our real worth,
For if we die for what is good,
Perhaps it will be understood,
And we’ll be born all lacking sin,
Because we all believed in him.

~ 30 ~

The race was on for the biggest bomb,
Now the white folk ruled everyone,
Drought increased and dumps rose high,
Polluted rivers left to die,
Stone buildings higher than the hills,
Blocked out the sun and timber mills,
Accepted all the forest trees,
Releasing virus and decease.
And temples rose across the land,
With open mind and open hand,
The preachers all becoming rich,
And women called a dog’s name bitch,
Ignoring the Churches who said just to pray,
Decided it was time they had their say.

~ 31 ~

We ain’t gonna be yo slaves no more,
Said the black folk who were sick and poor,
And all the oppressed down trodden groups,
Stood up to fight the Government troops,
Which ironically their better men,
Were from those tribes they still condemn,
Whose pride lived in the will to fight,
For what their leaders said was right.
And the Aborigines did not die out,
Birth favoured them and they began to shout,
You stole our lands and babies too,
But we are strong though we are few,
So to your God you had better pray,
Because soon we folks gonna have our day.

~ 32 ~

Joy and misery walk hand in hand,
For birth and death contour the land,
Where all things grow and all things die,
Beneath an ever changing sky.
And nature seeks to balance scale,
For death will win if she doth fail,
And men who challenge nature’s way,
Retard all life that will decay,
Until nothing lives upon the Earth,
The last seed of death denied rebirth,
Until by time the scales are still,
And a tiny insect climbs the hill.
And life doth slowly begin again,
And rhythmic patterns shape terrain.

~ 33 ~

Yet where from will the humans come,
To do again what they have done,
From the great vast Oceans green and blue,
Or from old ‘Eden’s’ human zoo,
And will their God this time declare,
That the tree of fruit is for all to share,
That they need not in fear of him,
Be born to sin that death will win,
That love be not blackmails reward,
For worshiping him the absent Lord,
Who desires that all must beg to him,
To wipe clean the concept of all sin;
That freedom dines with perpetual peace;
That love and trust doth ere increase.

~ 34 ~

An old Warrior tends his flower beds,
Of green and yellow but mostly reds,
A Hero from a distant war,
Who fought for life and death he saw,
But now finds peace in flower plots,
Where there are no bombs and rifle shots,
Just faded memories of a time,
When his own life was on the line.
He hears the children in the street,
The sound of young and nimble feet,
And from the Church the bells do ring,
Another marriage ; the quire doth sing,
As round the shire sweet life goes on,
As birth and death has always done.

~ 35 ~

A long, long road a narrow road,
Winds through the forest where a toad,
Sits on a rock an Eagles meal,
That from her talons a fox doth steal,
And hunted by the Dingo pack,
The Fox flees in fear of their attack,
As round and round the great wheel turns,
And in the sky the red sun burns,
As from a light far out in space,
Appears a gracious sacred face,
That smiles upon the grieving Earth,
That by his will was given birth…
And all the evil slipped away,
For the Lord had come had come to stay.