Falls Paradise

Yes, nice...but don't get close, unless...you wish to grow the weeds of wrath. It's pretty to begin, the perfect plan...all crotch and curve and shadowed promises...of 'goodies', to be had, but years go by, and pretty soon , the pumpkin patch goes wild and crazy...sucks the living juice from everything! 

Then, husbandman...what you gonna do? What you gonna do, when the garden, there, starts work'n you and eating you alive? Best stand off...appreciate the art of things, take yourself in hand, young man. Desire is all that most things are, illusions and illicitness combined. Don't let the vines wrap round to pull you down to falls paradise. 

Nothings free. Nothings given, really...in this place, but pain and hard times, jealousy's and rivalries and slavery's of ownership...no one can work in this, for love, itself...will pack its tools and leave, long before the garden chokes to death...where the only thing left is your headstone. Just look, but don't touch...in this pretty place. You buy the thing, you'll pay the price. Heads up, tip to the wise!


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Art: Gaia, fine art portrait, marta bevacqua