Tag Archives: religion

The Serpent

Swimming in sulphurous waters
With the daughters
Of Eve.
Adam doth grieve
But woman does not deceive
For man does freely choose
His innocence to lose.

Man desires
Paradise
While the serpent sires
Vice
Under indifferent skies.

The serpent lies
Apparently slumbering,
While secretly numbering
Every notch
That does blotch
His once perfect bed posts.

Ghosts
Themselves flaunt
And haunt
The dismal caverns of the mind.

No peace can man find
With the vampire
Desire
For she on herself feeds
And seeds
Lust
In we human dust.

Derth

Deep in the soul
Where CCTV
Can not penetrate,
A devil does wait
And whispers, “my goal
Is to make you free.
Come with me
Where the light is no more
And see what pleasures are in store
For those who would ignore
Society’s law.

Empty the brain
And do not restrain
Your carnal needs.
Only the herd feeds
On the myth of The Fall.
Pleasure is all,
Come with me
And be free”.

One may look up to heaven above
And call upon God’s love.
But what if we are alone
In our temple of skin and bone,
With only our conscience weak
To speak?
Shall the meek
Inherit the earth?
I fear
There is a clear
Dearth
Of proof
In support of this “truth”.

He Will Go His Way

Birds sing
Yet spring
Is far away.
The day
Is cold.
I think of arms that enfold
And do not hold.
The gold
Coin doth spin
And what some call sin
Enters in.
I think of a girl’s scent
Of those who do, and then repent.
I dwell on heaven
O how close ‘tis to hell!
And think it well
To leave the stone
Alone.
Why this desire
To know the secret fire
That in man does burn
And how he doth turn
Away
From the light of day.
He will go his way
Whate’r the moralists say.

Passing Through

Walking through the leaves

I perceive

the familiar churchyard.

It is writ large

on these weathered stones

“man is skin and bones.

All we are turns to dust.

Here men are beyond lust.

They sleep fast

And do not ask

Who does pass

By

With a doleful sigh”.

No more are men buried here.

The place is near

to my home.

I am but skin and bone.

I feel the carpet warm as I write.

The morning light

Will soon dispel the remains of night

For a time at least

then eternal peace.

 

(All Saints Church is close to my home. The graveyard is long since disused although the existing graves are maintained. http://www.allsaintsuppernorwood.co.uk/).

Heaven And Hell

To float on a cloud

As angels sing loud

Hymns

about the redemption of sins

Would, I think

Drive me to drink.

The devil would wink

And invite me to sink

To his abode below.

Should I choose to go

There would be good cheer.

bitter beer

and a warm fire, forever near

 

We Should Stand With Our Fellow Bloggers Who Are Being Threatened With Death

The Guardian reports that a militant group has published a “hitlist” of activists and bloggers. The extremist organisation has said that the named individuals (some of whom are UK citizens) should be killed due to their criticism of Islam. We should all as bloggers and believers in freedom condemn outright this barbarous threat. A number of individuals have already died simply for daring to express views which these fanatics regard as heretical.

It is easy to believe that such threats have little relevance to us as authors of fiction. However practically everything written can, if read (or mis-read) by a deranged person cause offence and lead the reader to engage in violence against the writer. Unless one confines oneself purely to writing technical manuals there exists a possibility that your words will, sooner or later cause offense. We should all be concerned and stand together with our fellow bloggers who are threatened by those who have a warped conception of Islam. (I say warped as most Muslims have no truck with fanatics).

http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/sep/23/militant-group-publishes-hit-list-of-bloggers-activists-and-writers

A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal By William Wordsworth

A slumber did my spirit seal;

I had no human fears:

She seemed a thing that could not feel

The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force;

She neither hears nor sees;

Rolled round in earth’s diurnal course,

With rocks, and stones, and trees.