ALLERGIC . . . to Paradise
. . . God gave them up
Allergic, and deeply hurting,
As each new day becomes a burden
From COVID, and the “Orange Man.”
With each new morning in the frying pan
Of public opinion.
Now out of bounds, and forgotten by hounds
That chase down the minions, whose eyes water from onions
Hammered on the keys of a piano, whose vibrant lilt & crescendo
Provide a constant, unending, innuendo:
That sounds out the latest agenda of the Times (in New York?)
--In memories of the unending crimes
(on plantation, gov’mt, or at work?)
For we are too allergic
And this applies especially, when it comes,
No, not to the Orange Man, or to any actual plan
That was once quite acceptable,
As we spoon-feed the young & the gullible
With a new hatred of (sh-h-h) God, himself.
For God’s laws would now make us vomit
As rioters in the streets, can no longer stomach
That old fashioned “Holy Bible”
And would charge all –or at least some,
Who would dare to quote from Romans, chapter one;
Or truly believe in God’s only, begotten, Son!
—All the while denying it, of course(!)
As we slowly, and with a force renewed
Continue to plod, and march—without remorse,
And continue to savor all the tingling, and the
Of a new forbidden fruit
—That would once again plunge us over the cliff,
And walk each precious person away
from God’s wonderful plans
"He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.
To him who overcomes I will give to eat from the tree of life,
which is in the midst of the Paradise of God."