Bland On Bland – Paradise

Photo By Jools Thatcher
Photo By Jools Thatcher

The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “Paradise”

Ed Bates returns to the guitar duties this week

Play this poem directly in your browser! Just click the “play” button below:


Paradise – the pay off, for all our earthly toil
The refuge of the righteous when they leave this mortal coil

Embraced by most religions – it serves both hope and fear
Dangled like a carrot – the believer’s panacea

This earthly plane derided, where flesh and lust enslave
The grass is always greener on the far side of the grave

‘Revelations’ tells us there’s a limit to the throng
One hundred and forty four thousand – That’s smaller than Geelong

With priority for Saints and other VIPs
Rabbis, Popes and Mullahs – it’s going to be a squeeze

Misguided “Martyrs”- TV Evangelists as well
No pun intended, they don’t stand a chance in hell

Despite allowing for no-shows, heretics and cheats
Religions, like the airlines, have flogged more fares than seats

They could add some extra levels, either underneath, or heighten
Or just extend the boundaries – they do it all the time in Brighton

In these days of litigation it wouldn’t be surprising
If some jilted, hell bound, lawyer sues for false advertising

Is paradise, like Noosa, a resort for the elite?
Exclusive, perfect weather, a fashionable retreat?

While hell, like the Gold Coast, is a haven for the masses
An environmental nightmare, consumed by greenhouse gasses

Will discrimination still bind a woman’s soul?
The same religious bias, that gives men, on earth, control

Will their souls be subjugated on grounds both fraudulent and glib?
Or finally, set free from the clutch of Adam’s rib?

Is paradise a garden, rivers filled with milk?
Palaces of gold, rubies, pearls and silk?

Like the cover of ‘The Watchtower’, green hills and endless dawns
It begs the eternal question – Who mows the bloody lawns?

Cherubs buzzing round on ride-ons, shattering the peace?
Or hoons dragged up from hell and let loose on day release?

Will a hundred virgins greet me as I sneak through heaven’s doors?
I appreciate the gesture but I’d prefer a hundred whores

Or is paradise much closer, in our minds and in our hearts?
In the laughter of our children, in the joy, that love imparts?

Unexpected moments, as complete as they are brief
The sum of all our kindnesses, compassion and belief

If paradise exists, I suspect it lies within us
But if it really is a place, I pray they’re serving Guinness

© Copyright 2010 Ian Bland

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