A Little Poem...

[Gbneil]

Inspired by the Palestine thread...

God and the devil walked side by side,

Looked down at the world and they both cried,

One of them in laughter one of them in pain

cos the people of the world were doin it again....and again

Well you created them, then they created you

So you cant blame me and I cant blame you

Its you to blame but not the you I know

Its all of the gods they made down below

I can see why you cant see the gods that they all blame

Its hard to see whats comin up on board a movin train

I am on the sidelines here just workin on my tan

But sometimes all it takes is one honest decent man

So the devil stood up and said I will not stand by

how many more decent folk are gonna up and die

My gods good and yours is bad , youll all go straight to hell

Well none of these folks are welcome there, Ive got it runnin swell

Aint no place for religion in my home way down below

Just honest sinners and decent folk who deep down still all know

Religion takes an honest man and fills him full of hate

And honest men should realize this before its way too late

[harrylime]

That is excellent. It reminds me of a Bob Dylan track called Hezekiah Jones, which i think is based on a poem. The lyrics are as follows:

This is the story of Hezekiah Jones...

Hezekiah Jones lived in a place... in Arkansas.

He never had too much, except he had some land,

An' he had a couple of hogs and things like that.

He never had much money

But he'd spend what he did make as fast as he made it,

So it never really mattered that he had much money.

But in a cupboard there, He kept in the cupboard... he kept in the cupboard books,

He called the books his "rainy season."

The white folks around the county there talked about Hezekiah...

They... said, "Well... old Hezekiah, he's harmless enough,

but the way I see it he better put down them goddam books,

Readin' ain't no good, for nigger is nigger."

One day the white man's preacher came around

Knockin' on doors, knockin' on all the doors in the county,

He knocked on Hezekiah's door.

He says, "Hezekiah, you believe in the Lord?"

Hezekiah says, "Well, I don't know, I never really SEEN the Lord,

I can't say, yes, I do..."

He says, "Hezekiah, you believe in the Church?"

Hezekiah says, "Well, the Church is divided, ain't they,

And... they can't make up their minds.

I'm just like them, I can't make up mine either."

He says, "Hezekiah, you believe that if a man is good Heaven is his last reward?"

Hezekiah says, "I'm good... good as my neighbor."

"You don't believe in nothin'," said the white man's preacher,

You don't believe in nothin'!"

"Oh yes, I do," says Hezekiah,

"I believe that a man should be indebted to his neighbors

Not for the reward of Heaven or fear of hellfire."

"But you don't understand," said the white man's preacher,

"There's a lot of good ways for a man to be wicked..."

Then they hung Hezekiah high as a pigeon.

White folks around there said, "Well... he had it comin'

'Cause the son-of-a-bitch never had no religion!"

[Gbneil]

It was intended to be dylanesque...I'm working on another few verses but wanted to keep that short to make the point...

[Bluesman]

If the South Bank show was still on I think you would appearing.

[ALI_1]

gbneil I like your poem did you write that yourself

[Gbneil]

Yes I write a lot of stuff...was just how I was feeling that day...

[ALI_1]

Your very talented with words well done mate it's alot better then most the stuff that iv read in books

[Gbneil]

Thanks for your kind words. I am moving into my fourth year of a joint honours in English and philosophy and have always been fascinated with writing, love doing it...

[Gbneil]

As things haven't exactly improved.....and there is one swear word in this one...may be deleted...another little poem....

Hey mr tambourine man, dontcha know any other songs?

The movement that you represent never righted all the wrongs

Different players, different tunes, different people, different views

Different soldiers, different fights, different dead folk, Different plights

Eenie meenie minnie mo, catch the terror by the toe, if it squeals, hurt it more

Hurt it till it squeals again, count to ten and try again

War on terror makes no sense, it makes more terror, makes more death

The Kings are in their counting houses counting all our money

Deciding who to hurt it with, it isn't even funny

If money doesn't talk it swears, it should shout **** you.

Thanks bob.

[Gbneil]

Vive la France.

Vive la France, with a gun in the face

The pen and the sword continue to race

To a finish line that no one can see

It isn't there

Vive la difference? Your havin a laugh

Difference is something people will smash

Through fear in their hearts

And souls

A gun in the hand of a man full of hate

Is a weapon that cannot discriminate

Mothers and fathers, the old and the young

Guilty or innocent, die

Give a man love, he loves for a day

Teach him to love, hate goes away

Open your mind, open your heart

Free your mind

Your ***** will follow

[Gbneil]

Love for the day.

Educate a nation one heart at a time

Educate a nation, no hate crime

Educate a nation before it's too late

Educate a nation to overcome hate

Overcome hate, set it all free

Overcome hate, it's no use to me

Overcome hate, free your own dove

Overcome hate and fill hearts with love

Fill hearts with love, then there’s no space

Fill hearts with love, then there's no place

Fill hearts with love and chase hate away

Fill hearts with love and love for the day.

[Gbneil]

Imagine this to the beat of Dylan's it's alright ma.

It's alright world.

Some people stand and stare, wonder if they’re even there

Don't know when or why or where, feel like their souls are bare

Take no action stand and look, don't turn the pages of their book

Feel the fisherman sink his hook, wonder if he is a crook

But it's ok, to stand and stare, at the monsters that aren't there

It's alright world, you’re only bleeding.

People believe what they read, fisherman tells them what they need

With his words he plants the seed, walks on by as they bleed

The money that they never owned, to buy their cars and their fine homes

It wasn’t theirs it was only loaned, by the fisherman on the telephone

But it's ok, to,pay the price, for your vanity and avarice

It's alright world, you’re only hurting.

The preachers tell them all to pray, waiting for the end of days

When a wise man comes along and lays, his life down for the ones he slays

The fishermen, they bait their lines, fool their people every time

They Promise them a life so fine, but it's their life, it isn't mine

But it's ok, to heed the words, of the wise men, and their lords

It's alright world, we’re only dying.