Lost poems (1)

I recently found an old Amstrad PCW 9512 disc in a box; the disc was simply labelled poems. I found a company in Cornwall who converted the contents of the disc to Word documents I discovered a whole load of poems I had written and lost. Most of these poems were written either just after my conversion (some possibly before). I’m going to post some of them on my blog over the next few days starting with the following:

Just injustice

For every voice that smacks of glamour,
There is a stutter and a stammer.
Divorce, despair, death through miscarriage
The darker side of love and marriage.
Behind each artist's stately swagger,
The sightless, soundless, speechless stagger.
For every 'harvest home' we shout
There's famine, flood, disease and drought.
A cripple sits for every dancer
And little boys still die of cancer.

And God sits on his cloudy throne,
Unseen, unheard. unfelt, unknown,
And all because men wont confess,
When life is bad - God's God no less!
For reasons only known to him
He puts up with the twisted limb.
In full accordance with his plan
He tolerates retarded man,
Acknowledges each cough and sneeze
Each groan and grunt each husky wheeze.

And when I feel that life's unjust,
I'll turn away and cringe and trust.
Though cancer still kills little boys,
We're precious souls not passing toys!

Yours set apart by Christ, for the lost, in the Army!

A