Colin F. Jones

DO YOU KNOW WHERE GOD IS?

~ 1 ~

Church Folk who are religious,
Are either brainwashed from the start,
Or have a mental problem,
From which they can’t depart.
To face themselves is difficult,
So behind their God they hide,
Claiming His forgiveness,
For the guilt they feel inside.
But when the guilt is over,
And the cleansing has occurred,
They walk along in clover,
Which is pathetically absurd.
For they still wear the feathers,
Of that timid little bird.

~ 2 ~

In other words their problem,
Remains inside their brains,
Forever to disturb them,
For their guiltiness remains.
For yet they haven’t faced it,
They have hidden it away,
Pretending God forgives them,
That they only need to pray.
But you can’t just pass it over,
For God to make it right,
For it’s yours to come to terms with,
It’s for you to stand and fight.
Or yet you are a failure,
Deserving of your plight.

~ 3 ~

A man who seeks forgiveness,
Must first satisfy the Lord,
That the guilt he feels is real guilt,
And not a suicidal sword,
That as a man he’s faced it,
Declared it loud and clear,
“I am a soul that’s evil,
“I hold the Devil very dear! “
Then perhaps the Lord will help him,
Because his heart is true,
And not because pathetic guilt,
Seeks a sympathetic view.
Stand up and face your problems,
God will do the rest for you.

~ 4 ~

Do you want to know where God is?
Do you still gaze with infant eye,
Upon the clouds in Heaven,
Moving slow across the sky?
Where do you think you’ll find Him,
Underneath a sacred stone,
In the smoke of catholic incense,
In the ear part of your phone?
Will you find Him because you feel him,
In the woodland scrubs and trees,
In the wonderful caresses,
Of the cool refreshing breeze,
Or will you catch Him in your hands,
Every time seeds make you sneeze.

~ 5 ~

Yes you can feel Him in these places,
In nature’s cruel displays,
In the worn and helpless faces,
Where life’s body still decays.
In the eyes of slaughtered soldiers,
That can see where you can’t see,
Beyond the hollow boulders,
Weeping for themselves, not me.
For the dead, they know where God is,
For he lives inside yourselves,
Where most of you will never look,
For you’ll never here the Bells,
That ring inside your spirit,
Where dear God always dwells.