Paradise Squandered

my body is a temple i shall not want
it tempts me to lie down in greener pastures
seeding impure thoughts for lush gardens
of flowering flesh lusting for loaded pistols

and erect stingers to pierce wounds
of wanting limbs with tongues entwined
drooling for voluptuous fruit fermented
i swim in streams of delusional truth

it leads me to babbling golden barley
throat charming rivers promising clarity
yet slipping ever away unquenched
just out of taste and touch and bliss

it restores me upward on the high rise
smokebillowed wings of lord ganja gifting
oil laden buds of inhaled forgetfulness
dried and rolled into warheadless missiles

it lures me to a poppyland of hunger
underground to a den of packed pipes
rife with opium dreams drifting thru
moody bloodstreams of lucid illusion

it pulses to the allure of god's downcast
queen the quicksilver seducer of ghastly
temptation gushing a raging mainline rush
for calm oceans of ghostly euphoria

i dive too deep into never nirvana forever
in the shadow too late to return to the garden
of innocence where children laugh and swing
skin knees and skip rope to rhyme

by Stephen Roxborough

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