Where paradise was flung: A poem 

This crest and ripple, this tipple 

with which I drench, like staple 

every day; turns my nerves within without 

A hidden inside screaming shout 

Even paradise became a dirty four-letter word 

that unsavoury all throughout was heard 

Could God rue that all was lost? 

This eternity forgone, and such a cost! 

And these arms couldn’t find love in Eden 

They ramped it up with a deluge of poison 

You were mine before, and then were gone 

How what is taken leaves one so forlorn! 

Forked tongues abound among those lungs 

The vultures sung, the dove was hung 

And in this caterwauling, the death knell rung 

For, in wicked hands paradise was flung 

Published by montecyril

Hi, I am Monte Cyril Rodrigues and live in Melbourne, Australia. I am a retired journalist. I have been diagnosed with schizophrenia. I've had voices and visions all my life. I think it is a spiritual experience, my doctors think otherwise. I am a deeply spiritual person and keep having experiences with otherworldly realms.

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