jobee
18-10-2008, 02:42 PM
Autumn/fall
The ground awash with dying leaves,
as dismissive, sleepy, wearisome, trees,
cast them off to flutter down,
and die unwanted on winter's ground.
Cold and cheerless the autumn air,
offers nothing to help or care,
huddled together as if for cheer,
but spiteful winds divide and clear.
All the browns and ochre’s too,
nature's carpet open to view,
every single shade of green,
as nature's palette reigns supreme.
Twigs and branches strewn around,
Magpies search and probe the ground,
foxes peek, search and inquire,
approach and stop as if to admire.
Cautiously taking a guarded stance,
ever fearful of man's violence,
The sky above cold and blue,
clouds mixed in a grey and white hue.
And then to man we next enquire,
as extra warmth he does require,
all wrapped up in jumpers new.
fearing colds and chills anew.
Then the autumn day is done,
giving way to nights kingdom,
a chilly cold and watery sky.
watches nature's foliage die.
John Bishop
Copyright © - John Bishop - All rights reserved
Blind faith psychosis.
What is it then that makes them pray,
that makes them creep and crawl all day,
that makes them read some silly script,
their pride and confidence slyly stripped ?
What is it then that transfers their minds,
to heavens and angels and spiritual kinds,
to attend Cathedrals in little groups,
then dress in robes as exemplar troops ?
What is it then that makes them build,
on fertile land where food was tilled,
huge Mosques; and Cathedrals too,
just to sing and confess anew?
Does it help in anyway,
to wile away the hours of day,
dressed in best and on their knees,
praying to anything and making pleas?
Is it selfishness that makes them think,
we all need them to cower and shrink,
on our behalf at their request,
so that our souls be sublimely blessed?
The whiff of selfishness stirs the air,
I think it’s just themselves they care,
the work is easy and less to think,
from competition they wilt and shrink.
This God they advocate with fuss,
when ask for proof, they won’t discuss,
O proof, O proof; what for you need ?
the devils home you’ll go with speed.
My lucid mind begins to stir,
I’m in the hands of a blackmailer,
I only ask; for what your sales?
they came back as hard as nails.
So business then shall prevail,
In Woolworth’s by an honest sale,
the Church an inquisition me thinks,
proof of God surely brinks.
jobee
__________________
http://com4.runboard.com/bcoventryalternativeforums.f6
The ground awash with dying leaves,
as dismissive, sleepy, wearisome, trees,
cast them off to flutter down,
and die unwanted on winter's ground.
Cold and cheerless the autumn air,
offers nothing to help or care,
huddled together as if for cheer,
but spiteful winds divide and clear.
All the browns and ochre’s too,
nature's carpet open to view,
every single shade of green,
as nature's palette reigns supreme.
Twigs and branches strewn around,
Magpies search and probe the ground,
foxes peek, search and inquire,
approach and stop as if to admire.
Cautiously taking a guarded stance,
ever fearful of man's violence,
The sky above cold and blue,
clouds mixed in a grey and white hue.
And then to man we next enquire,
as extra warmth he does require,
all wrapped up in jumpers new.
fearing colds and chills anew.
Then the autumn day is done,
giving way to nights kingdom,
a chilly cold and watery sky.
watches nature's foliage die.
John Bishop
Copyright © - John Bishop - All rights reserved
Blind faith psychosis.
What is it then that makes them pray,
that makes them creep and crawl all day,
that makes them read some silly script,
their pride and confidence slyly stripped ?
What is it then that transfers their minds,
to heavens and angels and spiritual kinds,
to attend Cathedrals in little groups,
then dress in robes as exemplar troops ?
What is it then that makes them build,
on fertile land where food was tilled,
huge Mosques; and Cathedrals too,
just to sing and confess anew?
Does it help in anyway,
to wile away the hours of day,
dressed in best and on their knees,
praying to anything and making pleas?
Is it selfishness that makes them think,
we all need them to cower and shrink,
on our behalf at their request,
so that our souls be sublimely blessed?
The whiff of selfishness stirs the air,
I think it’s just themselves they care,
the work is easy and less to think,
from competition they wilt and shrink.
This God they advocate with fuss,
when ask for proof, they won’t discuss,
O proof, O proof; what for you need ?
the devils home you’ll go with speed.
My lucid mind begins to stir,
I’m in the hands of a blackmailer,
I only ask; for what your sales?
they came back as hard as nails.
So business then shall prevail,
In Woolworth’s by an honest sale,
the Church an inquisition me thinks,
proof of God surely brinks.
jobee
__________________
http://com4.runboard.com/bcoventryalternativeforums.f6