Colin F. Jones

REPETITIVE FLAMES

~ 1 ~

What our fathers do wrong, we then prolong
We are the flames; the sons of their fires,
Linked culturally in need desire and greed
Heirs of a past that our present requires.
Generations keep hoping with courage keep coping,
With famine and warfare and flood.
Though we never acquire the peace we desire,
For our fathers who tried, never could.
We continually search higher yet sink in the mire,
But the reasons are not understood,
And whatever transpires we become more vigilant liars,
And celebrate to cover our mud.
Thus we carry our biers to the unquenchable fires,
Still convincing ourselves we are good.

~ 2 ~

We hold up our flag, A fading old rag,
For which our grandfathers and fathers died,
And we follow their way, lest tradition decay,
And our desires and beliefs are denied.
And we sacrifice lives for political drives,
To elect generals and presidents to fame
Make much of our losses, defined by white crosses,
Hiding our guilt, lest we discover our shame.
Distinguishing brothers, from the weeping of Mothers
And the politicians are the men whom we blame.
We thrive on the hype because it buries the gripe
That fades with the passing of time,
For we have no respect for the foe we reject,
For their belief in justifiable crime.

~ 3 ~

On a personal note tis others words that we quote,
For our own words we find hard to define
Which is often the way when we have something to say,
And our prowess is apt to decline.
For to quote someone’s phrase intellectually portrays
Us as people with superior brains.
Though we know it’s a lie, we let it go by
Because it is beneficial in what it explains.
But some poets, they write from their own inner sight,
Using phrases that are all their own.
Then the words that they state are theirs to relate,
Becoming words that are never outgrown:
Though some cannot hoe such a well-defined row,
As many verses of poets have shown.

~ 4 ~

If you write with a pen given by other good men
Who want us to think as they have defined,
Then you echo the choice of another ones voice
Leaving nothing of yourself behind.
But do your own thing, make the bells ring,
Gather the flocks unto your will;
Pretend that you know, where others will go,
If your ambitions it serves to fulfil.
But you will be guessing and mostly transgressing,
Fear being the agent you serve,
For the hope in your eye is that on the day that you die,
You’ll get what you do not deserve.
And I find that as funny as a bee in a dunny
Ejecting what one need not conserve.

~ 5 ~

Well Humpty might fall from the top of the wall,
But another humpty will take up his place,
And when death makes his call we simply install
Someone else, where of you there’s no trace.
For importance perceived for the absent and grieved,
Is soon smothered by those stepping up,
For who the hell cares for the bloke who declares,
That his shop is about to be shut.
If you have heaven to sell based on the advent of Hell,
Then no doubt you will be eagerly read,
But you only survive while you are truly alive,
For you cannot write verse when you’re dead.
Thus what we achieve is quite hard to perceive,
In words that someone else said.

~ 6 ~

We do not cry for others, not even our brothers;
We cry when we cry for ourselves
For all the pain and hurt hides under our shirt
Where inside our agony dwells.
We know not of their pain, their agony, and shame
Or if the dead suffer at all.
And if to heaven they go (though none of us know)
Our pain ought to be expressed as a joy.
But you see we all doubt, though our claims are devout,
When lost friends our feelings annoy.
And we suffer distress that we all must confess,
Love is a feeling we cannot destroy;
For the pain that we feel is unimagined and real,
Not a whim that we choose to employ.

~ 7 ~

I’ll be judged by them all because they think they are tall,
And I am just a little old man,
But it doesn’t matter you see for they’ll always be,
Quite ignorant about who I am.
They will wallow in self, pursuing great wealth
And recognition for all that they do;
For their thoughts are so vain, they will always complain
When faced with a different view.
I was named out of love and my symbol the dove
Shall ever fly in the face of hate
That love might increase for my mission is peace,
Though I was born a little too late.
Yet I shall ever seek truth and reveal it with proof,
And face proudly my ultimate fate.

~ 8 ~

Remember, young people, there’s no indestructible steeple,
That one day we all must die,
But most of us grow old before leaving the fold,
As cruel time passes us by.
Our minds become slow because we are dying you know,
And we suffer considerable pain.
But we know what to do after all we raised you,
And one day you’ll end up the same
Please be patient with me for I get angry you see,
And frustrated when my mind will not think.
Do not rush me and talk while I am trying to walk,
Do not force me to drink and to eat;
For my will is still mine though my words will not rhyme,
And my mission in life is complete.

~ 9 ~

What lives in your head are simply words said
By those who taught you to muse.
You believe as you do because you were born, it is true,
In a country that you never did choose.
So what do you know, since wherever you go,
You judge folk by your own fettered brain
Without the sense to translate that the religious debate
Is part of nature’s perpetual gain.
You will squabble and roar and march off to war,
Repeating your father’s mistakes
That were built into his brain as in his fathers the same,
Never changing the infallible stakes.
Yes these things you’ll receive, whatever you believe,
So long as Earth rumbles and quakes.

~ 10 ~

And what of your god who will resurrect you from sod,
At least that is what you do claim,
If he designed all this mess then I have to confess
There is nothing from humans to gain.
We break all the laws with our paws and our claws,
but our pagan spirits persist.
For only some know, for in the good land they sow,
Their souls where the spirits exists.
No sermons no schemes just reality and dreams,
Just wisdom born on the breeze,
Where most never go but are still claiming to know,
Why glades exist among trees.
Thus some follow the trails through sandstorm and gales
Knowing summer will follow the freeze.

~ 11 ~

When I see an eagle in air I never despair,
Though it may be hunting a dove;
For I know it must be that the pigeon must flee.
That reality is what we must love.
Though we want to be God the deer is not shod,
And the river must continue to run,
Though when it doth rain to the earth once again,
Dark clouds encumber the sun.
I know why it rains why a broken leg pains,
Why a plant doth wither and die,
Why hardship is truth with an undeniable proof,
Why honour glows in a man’s eye.
I know what is viable for the family’s survival,
And I know that in sorrow I cry.

~ 12 ~

I know not where I’m from nor from where others do come,
But I know death is the same as before birth,
I know I am alive and that I must try to survive
For as long as I can on this earth.
I must trust in myself and look after my health,
For I am the only one living in me,
Rely on my own thoughts and not on others retorts,
And care not if they disagree.
For I know the wind blows and that everything grows,
According to natures spiritual rule,
And that religion for sure was designed to cause war,
And to brainwash young children at school.
For I see no other measure in reality to treasure,
Lest it be that god is a fool.

~ 13 ~

Through convenience we laze with our pockets ablaze,
And blame our leaders for everything wrong,
Are we too stupid to see that it is the way it must be,
That to reality we must all belong.
Like a wolf in the wild we are still nature’s child,
We are part of the way it is run,
Be it president or priest or predator at least,
Claiming peace while firing the gun.
I have no desire that another man might admire,
Anything that I may have done,
I do not seek fame nor do I bellow and claim
What others might think I have won.
For I simply don’t care for what I have I will share,
And what is done will always be done.

~ 14 ~

Some just imitate the dove and some genuinely love,
Some are as crass as the coal coloured crow;
Some use flowery words and a lot of absurds,
Some just criticize others and go.
But generally speaking most folk they are seeking,
An ear when they question and talk,
Though some can’t help reaching for others and preaching,
Always popping their infallible cork.
If the status quo is rejected by thoughts that are selected,
By someone who does not conform,
Then the hounds are released and the baying is increased,
As the masses respond to the horn;
For to be different is dangerous; to the religious outrageous,
Who fear to doubt what they must adorn.

~ 15 ~

The righteous so fearful of being naturally cheerful,
Criticizing everyone else when they laugh,
Bound by their riches in brown coloured britches,
To follow a self centred path.
Wield a false sword while claiming their lord,
Upon others will pour out his scorn,
And you cannot help thinking ‘what the hell are they drinking’
To be so utterly pathetic and worn.
Well if you cannot fit in you are too stout or too thin,
Or you are just a bloody disgrace,
Just remember your sin is shared also by him,
Who thinks he’s off to some heavenly place;
But may stay quite a spell in the fires in Hell,
With an embarrassed grin on his face.

~ 16 ~

So now nature fights back for so long under attack,
She trembles in the ignorant storm,
She warns us with flame many times then again,
And has been doing so since we were born.
The oceans do rise despite politics and lies,
The ice in the poles is melting,
The heat of the day keeps the rainfall away,
and The Summers are uncomfortably sweltering.
Yet we still go on ignoring the sun,
Polluting, and extending our greed,
Raising the costs when our water is lost,
And we can’t nurture the life giving seed.
And we are so vain or maybe insane,
For we think God is all that we need.

~ 17 ~

For praying to God restores not the sod,
Nor recovers the forests and streams;
And only the vain would make such a claim,
Or the brainwashed living out dreams.
Rivers must flood for flooding is good,
And fires must rage in the bush,
People must fight for what they think right,
Or become servants of dictatorial hush.
For reality is truth that doesn’t need proof,
And what is, will always be real,
So wars will go on as always they’ve done,
Culling the masses to scale,
And the countries that lose will fashion new shoes,
For only the winners do fail.

~ 18 ~

There are some who are strong to their God they belong,
Who go off to heaven when they die
There are others like me who just cannot see,
Heaven in a dead man’s eye.
But the human will is so strong perhaps I am wrong,
And the power of thought can achieve,
What ever the mind that is left rotted behind,
In faith what it strongly believes.
Though I know here on earth for what it is worth,
Nothing changes whenever we pray,
That war will go on and peace won’t be won,
And water will dry in the clay;
That all those unborn will not see the dawn,
And time will blow our cities away.

~ 19 ~

Narrow-minded poets will write, about all in their sight,
Inside the restriction of their garden fence,
Never expanding their rhyme beyond their own time,
Guarding words by taking offense.
Claiming to know only when you reveal and do show
What they never did know at all.
For they fear to be wrong thus will never belong,
And will never as poets walk tall.
They will write of themselves for there their mind dwells,
Understanding nothing that effects another,
Writing for glory with the most popular story,
With words like mother and brother.
For they cannot go where they need to compare,
Thus never the truth will discover.