He’s got paradise on his windscreen: A poem 

He’s got paradise on his windscreen 

And he dances for the queen 

He’s got his engine and carburetor 

And he’s the rough road’s decorator 

There are rabbits in his hat 

And on his feet winds sat 

He dances just like that 

with the fire-ball’s fire-bat 

You can’t take the earth 

out of him, was his since birth 

His lies can kill your youth 

He does it for the truth 

He dangles a circle of a bangle 

And squares out each triangle 

Just suits destiny to have them in a tangle 

Till fate, let the world wrangle 

What they will, he won’t 

They can’t make him do and don’t 

He spins the wheel for the maker 

And they call him a heart-breaker…

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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