Colin F. Jones


Things are objects lacking life,
Like a gun a bayonet or a knife,
Like a toy that brings a child joy,
Like a rock thrown by an irate boy
Things are things with flaming tails,
Or float on water rigged with sails,
Things are things that lure our greed,
For things we do not really need.
Things are trinkets in our hair,
Objects possessed that cause despair,
Things kill and maim and burn and fall,
Exploit the vanity in us all.
Things are objects of great pride
For which good men so bravely die