Colin F. Jones


~ 1 ~

I avoid stepping on an ant if I can
I dodge all the puddles in the street
I don’t do what others might sham
And I try to smile at those who I meet.
I never intentionally argue
Nor ever deliberately lie
Not because I am little in stature
Not because I am frightened to die
But because I believe I am honest
That there is truth in all that I say
That my role is not to abolish
The warmth from everyone’s day.

~ 2 ~

Now if you would rather I be just a devil
An angel of Satan himself
Hell bent on spreading my evil
And stacking up ill gotten wealth
Then I will change my method of thinking
And lie till my teeth turn green
Get drunk every time I’m out drinking
Leave destruction where ever I’ve been
But it’s really not up to me is it?
Or down to me as some others would say
It’s up to the tossers who spin it
Or down to their falser display.

~ 3 ~

It’s those who roll out the wicket
The ones who pin up the score
The ones with the power to stick it
All over the lavatory door
Yeah I could be one of the team
Smile when I just want to roar
Pretend I am not what I seem
Glue a name plate on to my door
But you see I like little ants
I hate getting my little feet wet
And though I am not really an angel
I’m as good as any I’ve met.

~ 4 ~

No! I’ll never be anything really
Just a bloke who lived till he died
Trying but never so nearly
Forever on earth to survive
What is it they want these achievers
What is it they reach out to claim
Forever the constant receivers
Of letters after their name
Perhaps its their natural greatness
Perhaps its their unspoken pride
‘Tis sure there are better men living
Than those who live out a lie.

~ 5 ~

There are better than me in this land
And better than you lot as well
Some folk are born to be grand
Some to experience hell.
So I openly honour my betters
Respect their positions in life
Politely reply to their letters
And meekly submit to my wife.
Yet sometimes I lose my affection
For a world that offers us pain
While I try to stand to attention
And restrain the urge to complain.

~ 6 ~

But I’m just not as perfect as others
Those who seek to be seen
Like daughters who never had mothers
Or kings who want to be queens
I am not as perfect as judges
Nor as those who pretend to be green
As those who cover their smudges
So you cannot see where they’ve been.
I’m just a cranky ex soldier
Still living a long ago war
Every day just growing much older
Than I was on the evening before

~ 7 ~

I still dream out violent battles
Still hear the choppers go round
The phantoms when they open their throttles,
The rockets hitting the ground
I jump at the sound of a clatter
And I cry sometimes on my own
But I guess none of it matters
There’s a friend on the end of the phone
In all I’m just about normal
As a TPI is expected to be
A bit “funny” and often informal
Rebuked because I seldom agree.

~ 8 ~

Well I see that the sun is sinking
And the evening is fast growing dark
The stars are up there and winking
To the mugger the dealer and shark
I can’t find my glasses to see with
To find the pills for my pain
I stumble groping and grizzling
And the dog is yowling again.
But now it’s quiet and peaceful
As I lie back in this hole in the earth
What is it about? I am thinking…
This life of anger and mirth.

This poem prompted the response, “Ordinary?” – ©Copyright November 26, 2005 by Robin Amy Bass