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Paradise Lost MAG
Milton is dead.
Paradise is lost.
All around flames engulf us.
Is it purgatory – heaven or hell?
You can’t run away, it’ll catch you.
Destruction surrounds me. Why?
I could’ve saved her.
I could’ve died with her.
I am your faithful servant, Job.
Why did you forsake me?
Why did you forsake us?
I am not Job. I am not faithful.
I am Jim. I should’ve been with Toni.
I saw it coming.
It wasn’t a flood.
It was fire, just like You promised.
Her body was broken, but our love was not.
The police stopped me or was it Satan?
My neighbor survived.
You gave me hope.
You gave me lies.
Curse You.
Milton is dead.
Paradise is lost.
Eat the apple.
Gain knowledge and power.
Just one bite, and she did.
Eve is dead, and then there was Kim.
Where was Adam? Adam loved her so.
He would not let her sin alone.
Adam is dead, and then there was Ye.
You two are kings of this earth, not He.
He may rain fire, but you will not perish.
The Tree of Knowledge is lost.
But, there is more, much more.
Bare all. Hide nothing. Worship me.
Take this tree – your money tree.
You will have unlimited power over all that you see.
You can stop purgatory.
Heaven will be on earth for you.
Thousands are lost.
And, you will have all.
We are the true kings.
Celebrate! Fornicate!
Where is Milton?
Where is our son?
Where is Paradise?
Where is our home?
Thousands in tents look to the sky.
We are alive.
We drink tears, breathe fire, and eat ash.
We look at each other. Lost in this wilderness.
Will we ever find home?
Will we lose our hope?
Will we lose our faith?
Will we find the Promised Land?
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This article has 2 comments.
I hope you find your answer.
I can understand the need for some one to hear you. I can understand what it is like to stand by and see people ignore what is right in front of them. I don't know if this means anything but I can hear you. You do have a voice. I am mad too about what has happened as well, even if I was not directly effected by it. I hope that you can find a new home and that they can find the missing people.
And remember some times it is okay to be mad. It's what you do with that anger that determines if it is okay.
This poem was created by that anger. You to a negative emotion and turned it into something extraordinary.
This poem is wonderful.
I am, or was, a resident of Paradise, Ca., who survived the biggest wildfire ever, the "Camp Fire". I'm writing this poem out of sadness and anger. I'm sad about the fact that this fire took the lives of over 100 people, maybe more. I'm sad that there are still over 1000 people and counting that are missing. I'm sad that my home is gone and all of our precious and priceless belongings have literally burned into thin air. I'm also mad. I'm mad at how the media cares more about Kanye and Kim than the fact that there are still hundreds of people missing. I'm mad at President Trump for throwing shade at the brave firefighters who are risking their lives to extinguish this fire. I'm mad at myself for hating my neighbors because their house survived and ours didn't. I titled this "Paradise Lost" because of how similar the tragedies are in our town as well as the well known book.