Heaven Turned To Hell…

Heaven Turned To Hell, Then Hell Turned To A Heaven

What's man that heaven turned to hell

in Eden's garden? It's a tale,

as old as time before the flood,

before Cain spilled Abel's blood.

Subtler than murder, the neighbor 

grows rich against the miserably poor;

with might, the sword then scorns the right, 

and we're caged away from the light.

If light is hid, where goes compassion?

If mercy's outmoded old-fashion,

then hope withdraws, hides like a hermit,

so love and grace fail to permit;

then love, a flower, becomes a weed;

that kills the grass of our joy; seed

no longer grows or germinates,

except for what we in our hearts create.

With skill and heart, I therefore pen;

and illustrate the world of men,

the promises of love, despair, 

against which only fate compares. 

Thus moved, and so destined, I sing:

as lines flow and rhyme, it's like being 

lucid and clear in the sublime;

and it feels right for me all the time.

A high ignites with every line

that I feel: that's how I define

what it means to be a poet,

to not just pose—but to know it!  

But for the Son and solitude,

none interfere or thus intrude;

a prisoner, like an inmate,

I bide time; ponder my karmic fate;

endure my endless isolation,

an outcast in this loveless nation,

and lamb in a deceitful land,

that's brought to slaughter with sly hands.

Though for me gold turns to rust

in this Eden: “In God We Trust,”

and heaven's just another hell,

that mocks my story's bitter tale;

I still find peace and hope. In Rose,

I see the conclusion, the close,

of my painful life as reprieve:

the answer to what I believe.

Therefore, though men and angels hate

me, I shall dwell in love; and create

with rhyme and rhythm its magical

sound with a flow that's tactical:

so that the records may reflect,

while to the Muse I genuflect,

I sing with a view to what's right:

so, I may one day know His light.

By Ngoc Nguyen

From: United States