|PARADISE, a poem
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|Author:||Andrei Foldes [ Sun Dec 27, 2015 2:50 pm ]|
|Post subject:||PARADISE, a poem|
by Andrei Foldes
You’d think the sons of Adam would have learned
The lesson that their father dearly earned,
That paradise once lost can’t be regained.
Regret for it is all that has remained.
Blinded by loss, they had no eyes to see
That paradise admitted still the free.
A thing, they thought, only the dead might know,
Forgetting wise old Khayyam’s timely saw:
“Ah, take the Cash and let the Credit go.”
Forgot, the peace of forest’s rolling glade;
Forgot, the magic of a grassy blade.
For what? To travel in a metal box?
For what? To fester behind walls and locks?
And so, like madmen we now throw away
The only Eden on this ball of clay.
The masses heed the empty words of fools
And, duped by lies, break reason’s noble rules,
Their role reduced to that of mindless tools.
And in the hands of whom are they, pray tell?
Of those who’ve bought themselves a place in hell.
The filthy rich, whose minds are drunk with power
And, lost in greed, bring on the final hour.
You’d think this planet not to be their own!
What good is it if they’ll reap what they’ve sown?
By then we’ll be all locked in one embrace,
Hurried by winds of war from place to place,
No rest, no home, no respite for the race.
It’s them, the moneyed masters of Wall Street,
Not satisfied the common man to cheat,
It is soft Earth herself they are out to rape.
Her rich black guts they claw and drill and scrape,
Her wilderness and beauty they purloin
So they can grind and turn it into coin.
So what if this will bring calamity?
No one is left with any sanity,
All hypnotized by televised inanity.
But, please relax. The bill’s not ours to pay.
It will come due in our children’s day.
It will come due when seas begin to rise.
It will come due when people die like flies.
Out of a hundred one may well survive.
Did you think humans in the desert thrive?
The forests gone, the beasts into the ground
Will fade, till all become a burial mound,
And winds will howl extinction’s hollow sound.
Then those who now deny might yet relent,
But far too late t’will be then to repent.
Then naked man upon the barren Earth
Will curse the mother who once gave him birth.
Then all alone upon this orb he’ll sit
And watch as life on Earth ebbs bit by bit,
And stare vainly at the empty sky
Whence no one has, or will, answer his cry.
To flee his brutish life he’ll pray to die
The sooner to some promised paradise to fly.
© Copyright 2015 Andrew Foldes
|Author:||knightofalbion [ Mon Dec 28, 2015 6:14 am ]|
|Post subject:||Re: PARADISE, a poem|
Wonderful! Fine work, dear Andrei.
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