Colin F. Jones




They don’t commit to the Decalogue, the sacred guidelines,
Yet still they claim to be all faithful souls,
They practice not the morals the creeds define,
And often fan the flames of the Devils coals.
They covet through prayer for mostly selfish reasons,
Though their good friends might be enshrined in that,
According to the vogues for different seasons,
And malevolence is often part of their chat.
Hypocrisy is relevant to their religious statements
That claim belief for fear that it be true
Yet they stand across the road on different pavements,
And claim to share the same monotheism view.
Yet all in all they are just ordinary people,
If ordinary can be referred to me and you.


While Heterodoxy circumvents my mind with facts,
It does not reveal a thing that I don’t know,
That still I’ll search until my mind reacts,
With all the concepts that only truth can show.
Tis man who makes the statements; it is not God,
And what on this earth is a more deceitful beast.
Man makes his way by spilling lots of blood,
Then commemorates the dead with hype and joyous feast
Ask me not why I speak this way unless,
You enquire as to why I write as a believer too,
For then by your fair bias you have confessed,
That you have a prejudiced point of view.
For I, no doubt, your doubts am bound to raise
When you defend what you in doubt do praise.


Never did truth due to its obvious fact,
Require defending for it cannot in fact be wrong,
To do so is a responding doubter’s act,
Whose views to some religious sect are strong.
One cannot question truth for truth is real,
Tis factual in every aspect of its form,
Thus when it’s spoken it should not make you feel,
Somewhat exposed from your normal calm.
But where a view disturbs that of your own,
Should it be challenged because of that dispute?
Perhaps tis better to leave response alone,
For only with proven truth can one refute.
It may be heaven for those who believe a myth,
But the truth provides heaven as a precious gift.


On earth that which is sacred is the woman,
The mother of who gives birth to all we are,
Her loveliness is built into her instincts,
Which will outlive her beauty by quite far.
She thinks not to harm another with her passion,
Unless tis passion raised by threat or fear,
Tis always hers to blossom with new fashion,
And she looks at life with positive good cheer.
Wars are not raised by them and none would kill,
Where they could see no sense in such a prize,
They would not waste their lives to take the hill,
When to go around would better save their lives.
For unlike men the primitive urge to be the best,
Provokes no violence in their own mild contest


When we do make the laws and act as King,
Then we assume that we’ll over others rule,
Thus prejudging, to control the biased wing,
Lest by some act of truth we look the fool.
Why do we determine that an umpire must be set?
Who is no more able than the folk he governs,
Who acts upon inflexible rules and yet,
Has often baked his pies in many ovens.
What judge or Priest is without a hidden flaw?
What policeman has never committed sin?
When has a King been less polluted than the poor?
Who has not scowled behind a friendly grin?
Consider your judgments as you do judge yourself,
Lest what you declare is lost in its own stealth.


Often the Christian rejects another’s views,
For trying to force them upon another’s thought,
Of those things practiced by themselves accuse,
But seldom see their own selves in there caught.
Those who do not believe in the Christian way,
Each day must tolerate the preconceived displays
That are rampant throughout any given day,
Offering no respect for those who have different ways.
Tis even their way to dictate how one should marry,
That they can only love in the eyes of God,
When such is but a falsehood they do carry,
In order to wield an authoritarian rod.
For what the priests do practice every hour,
Is a well established mind controlling power.


In all the myths and faiths perhaps there’s one,
That does not have a Godhead to be praised,
That we can meet when all our life is done,
And we can choose to go our different ways.
Why is there always someone we must bow too,
Someone who is a step up from the rest,
Someone in authority we must kowtow too,
To genuflect while in deviousness they invest.
To refrain from being what a man is born and made for,
Becoming a celibate and masturbating fool,
In some strange illusion to prove themselves more pure,
In order to establish religious communion rule.
Tis little wonder that paedophilia becomes their problem,
As they languish in the stagnation of their pool.


Look how marriage vows are no longer vows at all,
Since the woman has challenged the prejudice word obey,
It is mostly now a balanced pledge of love,
With equal sharing if good intentions stray.
No longer do couples share misery between them;
Attempting to conform to religious, oppressive laws
That would their wiser choice to part condemn,
To live their lives forever clashing claws.
And who gives them the right to speak ill of those Gay,
Who are themselves the people they were born,
Who can now without the oppression have some say,
Regarding how they resurrect their clouded dawn.
None divide us more than this the Christian way,
Who hold the real truth of life at bay.


Yet look there are no morals and ethics finer,
Than those taught by the good man Jesus Christ,
Compare them to the Taliban and to China,
Tis obvious no better wisdom has been devised.
Yet such goodness needs not a God to implement,
It needs only teacher’s who can teach the child,
Teachers with the will and skills to circumvent,
The obstacles that are purposely compiled.
For in all the world, the values of our children,
Depend upon the loving nature of their school,
And on the teachers who with wisdom teach them,
And guide them on their way to deny the fool.
There is no better world than that where hope,
Is the image viewed in every prospective scope.


The puissance of his influence as an investor,
Is quantified by the results of his demand,
Though his temperance often magnets the jester,
When he appears reluctant to make a solid stand.
Some will see him as a fringe dweller, without commitment
Others might misunderstand the reasons he’s involved,
For few will ever investigate his equipment,
That would raise more questions than the answers solved.
Somewhat caitiff when unobserved and directly challenged,
Tis hard to undermine the image that he displays,
With a rectitude apparent and quite well managed,
In the public eye where he spends most of his days.
But after all he is a religious potentate and figurehead,
Thus is forgiven for all the sins of his splendid ways.



Where are you my saviour where are you sweet lord,
Will you be at the hill climb will you be at the ford,
Will you steer me the right way that I overcome wrong,
Will you teach me the words of your everlasting song.
I do what I can lord with the heavy burden I carry,
Will you help me to manage, take my hand when I tarry.
Can you lift those who may suffer from my torrid hand,
Can you give them the knowledge that they understand.
And those whom I love lord please transfer their pain,
That I may endure that which is their torturous bane.
Let me suffer the sins of the brainwashed and cruel,
Let me be punished on earth for every foul living fool.
Then forgive them my Lord and you will have forgiven me,
And the world will rejoice for we will all be set free.


I did not choose to be born in England,
Nor to be taught to believe in the Christian God,
I would rather have been born a Golden Eagle,
Or an animal living where no man had trod.
I would rather have died on the battle field,
Than to have been brainwashed with religious myth,
In which the truth lies deeply concealed,
In this false world of suffering and death.
I would rather be myself untrained and wild,
Guided by the natural world of beauty and wilt.
Raising with love and honesty each human child,
To ensure that the future on truth was built.
What I do is my own doing, tis not a sin to pass off,
To an absent ghost to camouflage my guilt.



My infidelity is not a burden; though I know;
Without the staff of God to lean on ; I go,
Through crowds of hypocrites and false priests,
That clog with their ignorance the bewildered streets.
Where reality wavers in the wind streams,
Blood mixed with germ and nostalgic dreams,
The natural acts of creatures changes never,
The links that bind us all as one together,
For what we are defies belief and hope,
For we all must with our own failures cope,
And recognize the insignificance of each end,
That most do not in reality comprehend,
That like a snapping twig is promptly done,
And what we were is plainly simply gone.


What comes into my head I usually write,
There is nothing and no one whom I wish to spite,
Some have hang-ups and think I am referring to them,
But if they were I would use their name with my pen.
Though I collect from your comments, things that you say,
Peoples comments are the ingredients of my moulding clay,
There is never an intention to use them for ill,
Tis simply my method for what I wish to fulfil.
I used to write nothing for others to read,
Now it is my will against this trend to proceed,
But had I not pasted the words on your screen,
You would not be upset by what you have not seen.
So please read my words as they were meant to be read,
For I write only that which comes into my head.