Colin F. Jones

~ God and War ~

~ 1 ~

Lest contumacious thought devours my brain,
From religious debate I oft refrain,
But such concealment finds no repose,
As would my nature so disclose.
Thus the tendency would be to save,
Today’s retreat for tomorrows brave.
Tis oft ones discourse to object
To what another’s diatribe will reject,
Who stands supporting as a clone,
That which he could not do alone.
Herein lays the substance for his jest,
Which he would not or could not test,
That urges me to seek some proof,
That what he says is really truth.

~ 2 ~

Oft some convolve uncertain thought,
A stronger argument to support,
To which they are but tethered to,
By unknown reasons for their view.
They look to see if they applaud,
Who like to wield their chosen sword,
To provide the strength in what they say,
And drives their nervousness away.
Thus hollow boulders and the like,
Discover the power of the mike,
For he who stands up there to preach,
Is hard for those below to reach,
That consequently what he says,
Their private thought soon betrays.

~ 3 ~

Into the ark with the trumpets blowing,
One leads the other to where they’re going,
Inculcation with mystic pressure,
That offers their selfishness false treasure.
For they all victims of incertitude,
Seek their power of purpose in the crude,
Where their robotic followers all conclude,
As a pile of wasted tricksters food.
Tis not regret that then transpires,
But defence of all those self made liars,
Who now believe that faith is proof,
Based on their counterfeit bogus truth.
For where the old church stood you see,
There stands a Lordly money tree.

~ 4 ~

Soon by their friendship they are biased,
Each trying to show they jump the highest,
Favouring only those who join the club,
Over all those others who are just as good,
But yet do not with their views agree,
Who worship not what they can’t see.
Heavy-some ritual once paganised,
Hides mortal men from adoring eyes,
Their lachrymals do temporarily fade,
Until contradictory are all remade,
To serve a purpose they do not express,
For fear of their betters harsh redress,
For then their malevolence once confessed,
Provides the power of the priesthoods quest.

~ 5 ~

The young like thirsting sheep do flock,
Where the sweetest water cools the hock,
But never enough to reach the height,
Which fulfils their starving appetite.
So the flocks they keep on coming back,
To retain what they will always lack,
While the Shepherds in their gilded Palace,
Divide the spoils from their Holy chalice,
Kept full by the exploited faithful young,
Who seek the taste of the carrot hung,
Just beyond their reach a Holy Ghost,
The Lord of Lords the mighty host,
Who while he notes the Shepherd’s greed,
He loves the flocks who waste their seed.

~ 6 ~

The diorism of the city church,
Remains upon its lofty perch,
And round its altars the new priests pray,
And plan what the old Priests gave away.
Perturbed not by the critics tongue,
They claim it right to do their wrong,
By openly discarding pagan robes,
To dress themselves in modern clothes,
And claim that Gods church must be rich,
To preach the Gospel to the kitsch,
And quietly, quietly sits the Lord,
Brandishing his enlarging judgement sword,
While all those folk so young, oppressed,
He notes are not yet properly dressed.

~ 7 ~

What of the young when called to serve,
Be it in a war or in reserve,
Whose Priests now dressed in military green,
Are compulsory Padres to be seen,
But lack the power to challenge law,
Which provides for the killing in a war,
They can’t prevent so they find a way,
To allow their God with great dismay,
To approve of soldiers duty bound,
To protect their faith with cannon sound,
And what then when the crosses meet,
Such righteous armies can’t retreat,
So for God and country they do fight,
Each side believing they are right

~ 8 ~

Is God like me somewhat bemused,
Or does he sit his throne amused,
Like a Roman Emperor without a frown,
Upon the slaughter looking down.
Most of them pray and worship him,
Whose lines by death are growing thin,
And all those soldiers who are maimed,
Are simple people wearing chains,
With links of honour love and pride;
And for their comrades who have died,
They’ll grieve forever in their time,
Still praying to the one divine,
Who raised no hand to quell their sin,
Though they each day worshipped him.

~ 9 ~

Have faith! Have faith! Believe, believe!
And all good things you will receive
Seem such hollow words that seek to steal,
The facts of life from what is real.
They lie there dead with staring eyes,
With shattered bodies; buzzing flies,
And we who thought we had been spared,
Will suffer yet because we cared.
And while I lie here wrapped in pain,
I wish not to here Gods name again,
For he walked not with my friends who died,
And brings no comfort those who cried,
Nor to my ever growing sorrow,
That needs comfort now… and not tomorrow.

~ 10 ~

What promise in the next life will transpire,
To offer a wonderment that we’ll desire,
Kept just beyond our heavenly reach,
Subserving what our prophets preach?
Will we in heaven have found our God,
Or will it be another road to plod,
Designed by monarch higher still,
Who needs to impart on us his will.
But what of those we leave behind,
With robotic hearts and biotic minds,
Who whirl around in heavens space,
Where we have vanished without a trace,
Or yet we still belong to Earth,
From whence transpired our marvellous birth.

~ 11 ~

No loving God would make disease,
Nor watch his servants fall to their knees,
With wretched pain that they do cry,
And wish, oh wish that they could die.
What God is this who serves up pain,
To force the worship of his name,
Who lets good folk in agony lie,
For years and years until they die?
How could I pray to your harsh Lord
Who fits not the picture of your word,
Who gave Earth war and man to sin,
So that we all might worship him?

~ 12 ~

God condemns his children; those born gay,
Who have not the power to choose their way,
But were formed tis said by his great hand,
Yet some must from his love be banned.
Do not these words prove thoughts of men:
Who wrote the scripts with biased pen,
Indeed to falsely retain a King,
Who in his lifetime wrote not a thing?
Why would the creator of the Earth,
Not understand a person’s worth,
with defects he himself designed,
Perhaps by error, or to be unkind.
They contradict! These prejudice scripts,
What a loving God would not depict.

~ 13 ~

It is false to say an animal is dumb,
And even perhaps an apple or plumb,
For a dog will howl in tender grief,
When her pups die smothered underneath,
Her as she lies below a floor,
Lest the rain doth come and it doth pour.
Why would a God all life give man,
To destroy or use or cage or ban
Then level his tower to the ground,
Because he used the power he found,
Obeying his God as was his way,
To ruin and maim and slay and slay.
What truth is this of a tender Lord,
Who would such violence so applaud?

~ 14 ~

Why do I write of God and War,
Of pain and woe and blood and gore?
Why not of fairies and unicorns,
And little elves who don’t have horns,
Pretty Princesses dressed in milky white,
Delighted by the Silver Knight,
Who rides the rainbows of the sky,
Upon his steed called custard pie?
I guess because I’m dull and old,
Or yet a smile I cannot hold,
And yet… inspired I have a grin,
When reading Dani’s poem again…
How lucky is that gal called mouse…
The builder of a joyous house.

~ 15 ~

Where are the Ladies in this scheme,
Of whom the boldest warriors dream,
Made by a God to take their place,
Below the man lest they disgrace.
Well the son of God, he could not write,
Though he spoke a lot on what was right,
And gentle though he proved to be,
More gentle was the woman than he.
The woman though, possessed no brain,
That could equal what a man would claim,
For all it contained was love and care,
And endurance quite beyond compare,
Plus all the skills to nurture life,
Through all the man made bitter strife.

~ 16 ~

But yet she could not raise her voice,
For only man was given choice,
In a world by men derived and scribed,
In a Holy book by males contrived
In marriage they took her name away,
In History left her to decay,
And his dear sons all rose to fame,
While her dear daughters knew no gain.
What a biased discriminatory book they wrote,
In which was recorded the dividing moat,
By biased manhood with a quest,
To establish power over all the rest,
With an absent God poised at the helm,
All other cultures to overwhelm.

~ 17 ~

God wrote this holy book they say,
Instructed men to scribe the sacred way,
They wrote a History of the Jewish race,
Used God to justify murder and disgrace.
It followed that he killed all life on Earth,
The tiny babies, women men and turf,
And in regret sent his son to die,
That we all would be saved you and I,
But who for this is this quaint book to blame,
Surprise, surprise! We need not spell a name,
So we who had no part in our design,
(God made these bodies, yours and mine),
Are punished for the defects we call sin,
Made by the Lord, oh yes! All made by him.

‘~ 18 ~

It was God who made us and not us ourselves,
With all our defects where our weakness dwells,
He formed our bodies in replica of his own,
In his sacred image we his mortal clones.
But what he made he did not like at all;
These little clones thought they were ten feet tall.
He’d punish them for the errors that he made,
So he set them free from Eden’s false charade,
Blaming them for his cleverly designed sin
That would demand that they must worship him
Lest they do die and evermore be dead,
Where none survive where all they are is shed;
But yes there’s heaven where I can call you to
But only if you praise me your whole life through.

~ 19 ~

The son of God of course was white,
Though born a Jew and despite,
The desert sun of Galilee,
Where the only white man there was he!
The Romans took him as their own,
And tried their military Popes to clone,
Which took them quite a little while,
By using cunning and a lot of guile,
But in the end they had their Lord,
Appointed by a bloodstained sword,
That all the world would know their Pope,
As God’s chosen one to offer hope,
Be it at quite a lofty price,
Until Luther revealed their greedy vice.

~ 20 ~

So from the Romans the British King,
(Of Italian words he knew not a thing)
Decided that a book he couldn’t read,
Required re-writing at full speed,
So at last the Lord was now pure white,
And joined the realms of British might,
And led them to plunder half the world,
Changed their cultures and stole their gold.
Impressed upon them one and all,
That the wrath of death would befall,
Who worshipped not the Christian God,
Who would condemn them all into the sod.
So those who died not in distress,
This Christian God sort to impress.

~ 21 ~

Now with this white Lord in his Place,
It was soon designed a gentle face,
To fit the image they were looking for,
Not a rough made carpenter with a saw,
With swarthy skin and calloused hands,
And windblown cheeks from desert sands
But with a Halo above his noble head,
And a pure white robe with a sash of red,
Bright blue eyes filled with delight,
Teeth like pearls bathed in cool moonlight.
This was the Lord, the Lord Jesus Christ,
The whitest Jew among men and mice,
If this image is as true as the book they wrote,
Then God really did elect the Pope.

~ 22 ~

So who scribed the words of the Bible then?
Nameless writers with a biased pen,
Thrice translated from a foreign Tongue,
How could these words not be wrong?
How could one quote what Jesus said
Long after his life on Earth was dead,
Word for word as he spoke to the few
Who worshipped him and loved him too?
A connate link of homogeneous thought
Devouring time with an unblemished report?
Where scribed is the signature from the writers pen?
Where scribed is the date which tells us when,
The Authors wrote the words we say,
Were the words of God in every way?

~ 23 ~

How does one know with whom to fight,
Determine those who are doing it right,
When those in the battle are given no choice,
Cannot refuse nor raise their voice.
“Yes Sir! yes sir!!, sir we surely will,
Lest we serve our time on defaulters’ hill”
So we kill the foe whom we do not hate,
Because the powers that be say “You do it mate!”
And oft we fight on the side of sin
Because they also claim to worship him,
To whom we give our aid that our soldiers die,
Whose comrades know not the reason why,
Who live confused shell shocked yet know,
That they fought for same things as their gallant foe.

~ 24 ~

I see the church as an emotional prison,
Which defines ones thoughts and thus decision,
Cloning minds that doubt they smother,
With collective observance of one another.
There is no variety in their consumption,
And a lack of knowledge in their presumption,
That all who walk a different way,
Are Gods black sheep who’ve gone astray.
From inside this quaint religious bubble,
Their doctrines cause in others trouble,
Who are condemned by the God they claim,
Serves only those who express their shame.
Yet though they think the Lord God serves them,
Tis they who serve; though they are vain.

~ 25 ~

What you were must be forgotten,
You will never be yourself again.
You’ll think your life was simply rotten,
When we inflict you with this mental pain,
That will make you feel a nothing person,
A complete retarded utter fool:
For this will be your first damn lesson,
To make you just another tool.
All you blokes who are religious,
Will understand the way we work,
We’ll concentrate on the prestigious,
Until he feels he’s just a jerk,
Then we’ll revive them with an offer,
Of becoming one we can’t besmirch.

~ 26 ~

Recruits remember the ‘putty’ method,
Tis the same one used by the church,
To form you into what is wanted;
To knock the obstinate off their perch.
For if you think you are a sinner,
You’ll soon desire to be saved,
So you’ll do your best to be a winner,
And then unnoticed become enslaved.
There are of course those who want to,
Be told by others how to live their lives,
And oft they become career soldiers,
The wardens of the buzzing hives.
But it all proves vital in the wrath of battle,
And ensures that some at least survive.

~ 27 ~

So reasoning and method are so vital,
Though they may be in conflict with the cycle,
To determine what is best at any hour,
For the retainment of crucial power.
Thus Governments must manipulate the people,
Religious leaders resurrect their steeple.
That when threat disturbs their shore.
They are prepared to go to war.
With all the people there united,
With their government decisions all delighted
Which can only be debated,
If a situation has been created,
With the Lord God at the helm,
The great the saviour of the realm.