Perfume in a forbidden garden.
Desires hidden behind friendly smiles.
Paradise held no inhibitions.
Society celebrates the variety
Of nearly all.
But some falls
Can not be forgiven.
So Adam waits
Though the Devil prates
Of outdated convention.
But the fruit
Is not quite ripe.
You and I
Said goodbye
For a little time.
I walk through
Fallen leaves
And compose a rhyme
To Eve
And Paradise Lost.
Roses smell sweeter in childhood
Their scent
Being natural and good.
I repent
Of scentless flowers
And myriad hours
Spent trying to grow
What ought not
To grow,
And would,
If I could
Spurn these flowers, purchased on a whim
And return
To a time ere Adam did sin
With Eve.
But I can only grieve
And count the cost
Of Paradise lost.
—
(The reference to paradise lost pertains to Milton’s fine poem of the same title).
We are born
In naked innocence.
Soon, as man grows
He goes
To the expense of clothes,
As he is from his innocence torn.
We are obsessed
With dress.
A girl’s short skirt
Causes a man to flirt
And desire to Perceive
Eve
As she was in Paradise,
(But now in vice)
For tis impossible to recreate
Eden’s state.
Perchance the serpent thinks
As he drinks
From the fountain of love,
Of how he fell,
As star dust
From the sky above,
Into this heaven, this hell,
And now is bound
All around,
With what some call love, and others lust
A perfect pare.
So ripe and fair.
To have you there
A perfect pair.
No one to stare
Where
The perfect pare hangs
Within easy reach of hands
That desire
To quench a fire.
The love of fruit
Is At the root
Of the fall from grace.
A place
Called Paradise, where Eve ate the apple.
The sunlight no longer dapples
Eden’s Lawns
where innocent fawns
Where wont to Play.
Or so the moralists say.
All this will pass away
But I have fruit today …
Show me paradise where information pumps like an ever flowing river through the brain. Show me Eden where we are always connected, where sad thoughts are drowned out by the chatter of the information superhighway. Show me happiness where chips smaller than a grain of sand control our emotions, where reality and the virtual meet, but to what end? Show me pleasure unbounded, love without strings where virtual partners fulfil our wildest dreams. Show me a world of smiling, happy people where the god of pleasure reigns and I will show you a kind of hell.
K Morris - Poet 