The inhumanity of it all…

After the dark shall cometh the light
Exploded into by man’s devilish slight
To ruin the land and dominate all
The Earth falls into a deathly pall.

Sides will get taken along the way
The poor of learning will never get a say
The rich and clever will make the rules
History shows the poor are their tools.

A poor woman begs for work or bread
Her very rich neighbour kicks her in the head
And laws are passed to keep them down
And hidden from view on behalf of the crown.

Arguments start and war then breaks out
That guileless citizens know nothing about
But involved they become as their faith is then tested
Forced into arms for the thoughts they’ve invested.

Only a minority will claim they’re the proudest
But they have the guns and their voice is the loudest
We get swept along and get hurt on the way
Young children in war games with no time for play.

After the dark shall cometh the light
Exploded into by man’s devilish slight
He ruins the land and dominates all
As Earth now descends into it’s deathly pall.

©Joe Wilson – The inhumanity of it all… 2014

The bitter struggle…

Annie Kenney 13 Sept 1879 - 9 July 1953
Annie Kenney
13 Sept 1879 – 9 July 1953

Born in Springhead in September, Seventy-nine
Started at the mill when she was ten
She lost a finger in a bobbin soon after
Couldn’t complain, jobs scarce even then.

After twelve-hour shifts as a tenter
In a harsh cotton mill amidst murl
She still had to help with the washing
Not much time to be just a girl.

Enfranchisement of women was what drove her
Fought the Cat and Mouse Act for the vote
To prison oft times for not paying the fines
Not an ordinary woman, one of great note.

She was once compared to Joan of Arc
The way she took such a principled stance
When women over thirty finally gained the vote
A more normal life for her stood a chance.

Hunger strikes and prison took a toll though
Wore her down and left her so weak
Diabetes in the end was what killed her
Her courage, with others, does still speak.

That the Suffrage Movement existed
Was a terrible indictment of those times
Though I speak of the courage of a woman – Annie Kenney
One couldn’t do her justice in mere rhymes.

 

©Joe Wilson – The bitter struggle…2014

A tenter was an assistant to the weaver, the one who had the highly dangerous job
of keeping the bobbin loaded and in line with the shuttle. The tenter also had to
feed the loose cottons back in. All highly dangerous, especially for a small child.

There were many brave women who struggled for enfranchisement.
Annie Kenney was just one. There were those who gave their lives
to the rightness of the struggle.

A stolen heartbeat…

KNIL-Artillery_page_lockingsystem

 

His death could oh so easily have been avoided
At eighteen he was far far too young to die
But the belief that lay within him was so powerful
Now his family have just the memories and they cry.

Men have always gone off fighting for their ideals
And their kinsfolk are the one’s put under strain
For the sickening news that often gets brought to them
Turns their once sun-happy days to ones of rain.

It doesn’t matter a single jot whose side they fight on
The resulting family heartache is still the same
There are those who would use these young men’s keenness
And exploit them in their own political game.

There’s a funeral now as another boy is laid down
And his family are beside themselves in grief
But governments have been this young man’s killer
Politicians stole his heartbeat like a thief.

 

©Joe Wilson – A stolen heartbeat…2014

In mortal pain…

This land has been robbed of all that it had
Nothing is left, even for the slick and the rich
Crumbling edifices to our capitalist greed
Our world no capacity now left for its need.

There were those amongst us who fought agin this
Imprisoned in jails within our own tortured selves
Not enough of us tried to stop the horrors we saw
Now nothing is left, our charade is no more.

Your fathers all fought in such bloody campaigns
There fathers too, and there fathers before
New weapons of destructive powers previously unheard
That slaughtered the innocent in ways cruelly absurd.

Buildings left standing with all inside dead
People didn’t matter, but the real estate did
And thus the corruption swept over the Earth
We were judged by our value but not by our worth.

It angers me now as I feel guilty shame
For I didn’t do enough and that makes me as them
And for you with the mess whatever is left
There’s a world that was rich and is now so bereft.

One thing is certain, save the wealth of the land
The one crucial thing that we never did foresee
Don’t go down the pathway of war-like inventions
Create things for peace and for better intentions.

Think in these ways and you may stand a chance
It’s a message I couldn’t ever iterate to much
War and corruption lie together in bed
Growing good crops gets communities fed.

©Joe Wilson – In mortal pain…2014

She waits in hope…

Though willing hands are always there
To feed her, dress her, and brush her hair
Disease has crept through her with stealth
Some things just can’t be stopped with wealth.

The frailty was quite slow at first
She couldn’t fasten her shoes at worst
But then it weakened her gentle heart
And eventually it tore her life apart.

And though she prayed with all her might
She started soon to lose her sight
She fell down often and broke her hip
And life began to fade and slip.

In time she couldn’t leave her bed
And dreamed her dreams of Christ instead
For she well knew he’d suffered worse
Than her small Earthly painful curse.

Now in her mind in fear she weeps
Her life but spent in fitful sleeps
She waits in hope for His Holy hand
To lead her to the Promised Land.

©Joe Wilson – She waits in hope…2014

A Cruelty Unbearable…

Wandering in my mind looking for reasons
I came across far more questions than answers
Why are so many children of the world dying
Why are so many, many mothers crying
Why is God so cruel to them – but I know
It is mankind that is cruel, it is man.

Why was man put here to be so unkind
Why are we here at all if not to find
A way to learn to treat our sisters
A way to learn to love our children
A way to learn to respect our elders
A way to learn to love with dignity.

Some choose a path that takes them to God
Some choose a different way and yet still hope
Some take a path that leads to their dying
And leave behind their widows and children crying
Can we not yet see that utter pointlessness
Nor see all of the good that we should bless.

A little child lies dying in a hospital crib
Her mother so unwilling now to depart
The shortest of lives that the wee thing lived
Like a stake has been driven right into her heart.
She was killed in the crossfire unintentionally
But she’s no less dead, can we not yet see!

A Cruelty Unbearable…2014

Keeping faith

Woven throughout the passage of time
a life image of every soul
each setting out on its journey
and striving to reach the goal.

Often falling along the way
each choice a test of fate
and wrong decisions that will be made
results we don’t anticipate.

A bitter word here, a kind word there
differences that we settle
choices for peace or violence
oft put us on our mettle.

Encounters on the way we make
can cause us so much ill
but choices that we make for good
will linger with us still.

And so we make our journey
each move is new and fresh
the aim to be true to one’s self
from that day we leave the crèche.

Perhaps we choose a mate ere long
to help and guide us through
the best ones are the ones we love
they help to keep us true.

We have our faith, a private thing
it helps us as we travel
and when we stumble and we fall
we sometimes will unravel.

It’s then we test in our belief
and sometimes we’re found wanting
but guidance from within the faith
can make our tasks less daunting.

And so we pick our way again
our faith perhaps restored
and certainty that lives well spent
are blessed and never bored.

If we work hard and we believe
and keeping faith try not to stray
a time will come at journey’s end
when we will see the better day.

©Joe Wilson – Keeping faith 2014

Two short pieces

To sit thinking quietly on ones own
is perhaps today’s rarest commodity
when you say that you wish to be alone
observers will tag you as an oddity
and yet that solitariness is divine
a time to question one’s thoughts
a moment where honesty will guide you
and lies get your personal retorts.

©Joe Wilson – Private moments 2014

 

We seem so discouragingly needy
to resist the desire in our mind
to be seen to be caring to others
as if it was a sin to be kind
but to be kind to others is no sin
it is all that we should ever be
and He who is watching and caring
misses nothing in His Heavenly See.

©Joe Wilson – Not sinning 2014

In quiet contemplation

There was an eerie quiet peacefulness
in the small sparsely furnished room.
The only sound that may have been heard
was of a solitary man wearing a brown robe
with the hood pushed carefully back in order
that his head would bared before God. He was
breathing in and out in a steady and relaxed way
as he occasionally and deliberately turned a page.

The man, perhaps in his sixties, one couldn’t tell
but for the age-worn hands that rested gently on a tome
before him. He was deep in thought and concentration
as he studied his Bible, something he did daily.
These were his moments of quiet contemplation,
but ones that he never shared, but with his God,
and upon finishing, he quickly rose and rejoined his Brothers.

He felt at Peace.

©Joe Wilson – In quiet contemplation 2014