Other Poems by:

Jonathan Downard

Fall Well: Ode to Jerry Falwell

the gays cannot avoid being that way
and much less so than you could help being fat
live, let live, and take full heed of that
when silver-spoon sucking another snack

gluttony is a most grievous and common sin
quite like unto pointing the finger
"the Christ" spoke of and, perhaps, died for both
so read The Book; keep sour mouth closed

faith is a rose that may come and bloom
in each garden in its own time
every one each a unique valentine
written "on high" or written inside

take care for you may fall well into the pit
of which you rant and threaten so much
skill of a preacher makes not one a teacher
wisdom requires understanding of love

misuse of respect for a massive church
your litanies rooted in the physical
you would just as well go and lie with a whore
as acting though lacking the spiritual

Agnostic Envy

I don't fancy I'm a good man
I couldn't understand religious feelings
I see no logic in divine plans
I'm not inclined to just believing in things

I hear the devil in the details
contradictions in the scriptures pain me
can I avoid paying retail?
for a promise prophets made me, for free
I never needed prayers to manage
I couldn't understand the pomp and preening
in churches full of guilt and damage
I couldn't pass the flash and language screening

still the Jews endure defaming
by a clergy dressed in gold and satin
why should Yeshua need renaming?
pushing us to cypher Greek and Latin

but you tell me your beyond sure
and that He's living there, in your soul's core
guiding you in all you stand for

Through My Hands

I had a spark of magical imagination...  What if your hands, moving 
and grasping over your body, could be my hands...
   A magic spell with a bit of my essence and a touch of your awareness...  
energy shared virtually subconsciously over space and time...  could you 
feel me there, feeling you vicariously through your own hands?  Not a 
puppet master; but a sublime spectral spectator there only to glide along on 
the tips of your fingers and the palms of your hands, not always knowing 
why I feel so good...  energized and illuminated.
   Do you believe that I could feel you, or that you could feel me?  What sort 
of joy or madness might that drive one toward?
   What if you could feel me through my hands?


To want is not reasonable or rational; 
wanting doesn't have limits or set boundaries... 
It doesn't always follow logical thought, but it sometimes can; 
it doesn't always follow the heart, but it sometimes can; 
it's not necessarily instinctive.  

The Apple

I ate the apple that condemned Adam and Eve
and I found it to my liking, all the way
I spoke to Father after fruit that was forbidden
the taste then gave me so much more to say
he contradicts himself of some things best unspoken
some things best untasted and unseen
hurt no one with what goes into or out of your mouth
and neither will make you the one unclean

if looking is the same as touching
if sniffing is the same as tasting
if thinking is the same as doing
we'll all be together in HELL

that knowledge now, somehow, has lodged itself in my throat
changing the taste of everything
see for yourself, and good luck finding out the whole truth
believing blindly torments in the end
some use the apple to make medicine or beauty
relieving some from hells they may be in
but there are those who make their weapons of destruction
intention is the reality of sin

I only want to do what's right here, right now
everything ever taught to me has been a little wrong
do I not know enough, or do I know too much?
the apple is still hanging on my tongue
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