For the Sake of Sodom

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For the Sake of Sodom

Oh Lord, high and mighty

Hold not your hand away

Keep not Your words from us

Let not our fears betray

How far we have fallen -

How far left still to go 

For the sake of Sodom -

Lord, let it not be so.

For the sake of the fasting

On their knees all around

For the sake of the faithful

Burn us not to the ground.

If You find the righteous 

If there only be but ten -

Do not forever condemn us 

For a million wicked men.

 

~ Infertile Ground ~

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This world is like a murky wood

Its men all tall, tenacious trees

While women flower into fragrant buds

Flocked in virtues like a cloud of bees.

But once clear paths are overgrown

By many a rooting root

Once bright meadows slumber dull -

The song and sun now cold and mute.

The trees that spring twist and stoop

No more to stand for a thousand years

And at their side, no flowers bloom -

Only tawdry thistles flourish here.

~ Time ~

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The body grows outside the soul

And facilitates the oath

To binding, hold the two as whole

And carefully bear their growth.

But if the soul should tarry still

And slowly drift behind

The body works to it’s own will

Like most of humankind.

The body grows outside the mind –

The church heart beats an earthly toll

To slow the body down to find –

It is the clergy of the soul.

~ I am Pain ~

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I am the sound of jagged breath

Catching in a broken chest

I am the feel of slow drying salt

Sleepless for another’s rest.

I creep in silent, midnight hours

I bathe in mounds of moulding flowers

Pilled high to pretend some cheer –

It is not needed, for I am here.

I am the dropping to the knees

The screaming in the dark

I am an eternal mighty river

Drowning slowly each single spark.

Let me hold your hands so tight –

Pull out the rug and dim the light,

I only need an empty space –

Only use an unseen face.

Sorrow, she holds me closer

Than any lover ever would

And Regret, so she loves me

For all the things they wish they could.

I am undying, yet only need one day

Bound forever by what you cannot say

Do not think I will be forgiving –

Your death is in the living.

~ Blue Wren ~

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Blue Wren

I had one blue wren

Given as a gift to me

And though its wings beat the bars

So strong it sung, until the day He set it free.

Small and sweet and feisty –

Encaptured by its song –

A borrowed treasure to hold close

For such a treasure would not be mine for long.

While its feathers faded,

It sung through day and night

For though it warbled in the dark,

It was the creator of its own moonlight.

And then one day,

He came to take the cage

“Your boys have asked me for you” –

The door opened and He turned the page.

Head tilted sideways, 

It stopped and looked at me –

Let out one final trill –
And bright-eyed, turned and fluttered free.

For Nanny xx

~ If I Could Paint You in My Head ~

If I could paint you in my head

What colours would I use?

When all His nature used before

Any hue that I could choose.

Original I could not be

No masterpiece could fake

“Imitation must be your key”

Yet this forgery I make.

Modern masters look to me

As empty piercing lights

My brush is tattered in its climb

To it’s Master’s lofty heights

What skill we had is fading fast

As each day I see more clear –

We cannot relive a gloried past

But must create in ‘now and here’.

S.K Downes

~ I Walked the Precipice of Beauty ~

 

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I walked the precipice of beauty

Above a motion bold and ‘grand’

That walked a million circles

Upon once long discovered land.

Where weakness was an honour

To be given to the strong

And truth was a trigger word

Besmirched in marching song.

One man’s trash was treasure

And all the treasure trash

Tossed out with every measure

Of a new generation brash.

Too tired of old men talking

They cut the old men down

With smirks and smears and knowing leers

Packaged in a thorny crown.

I had to stand in pointless queues

And smile at paper bags

‘Artistic’ were the words they used

Describing each damp rag

That sat upon the fire of growth –

Smoke signals in my wind

To blow the futile is the oath

Of all in daylight dimmed.

They smashed the windows of the cars

That paid to use my street

Those people waiting quietly

They were the ones they beat

For saying ‘let us hear a voice

And perhaps learn to disagree’ –

This culture’s god, her name is ‘Choice’

So all must choose not to see.

I walked the precipice of beauty

Above the slippery slope

They stood below and propositioned

Me to hang upon their rope

These safe spaces held their hands

And gave the cutting knife

Their only way to meet demands
Was to love an ugly life.

S.K. Downes