Colin F. Jones


If I do choose to offer no concern,
And feed the notion that my mind is glad,
When others in the world do waste and burn,
Or kneel submissive feeling very sad.
Then I shall make a statement with a gun,
Pointed calmly at my hateful brow,
Lest I in fear choose to turn and run,
And escape with such defective thoughts somehow.
Never could I, I think, hate men at all,
No matter how far they shrink from better self,
None could, I think, such ingredients install,
That might in shame reduce my mental health.
Thus how can such as I know why they hate,
Those foul obstructions blocking freedom’s gate.