The Garden Of Earthly Delights Poem by Alexander Roussel

The trees, the trees have transformed.
Bark-covered branches and twiggy-twigs become fleshy limbs,
Supple legs and reaching arms.
Hands stretch out for any passer-by,
Feet wander about the place,
Here and there you see a face –
Peeking from it all! Trunks become torsos,
Leaves – flowing hair,
That dancing in the breeze, that dances in the air.
Naked bodies intertwine,
Flushed from slurping down cup
After cup of cheap box wine –
From some unknown origin.
Toothy grins smile, mouths stained red,
All are giddy, but they don’t know why –
The wine has gone to the head!
A mass of absent-minded humanity,
Caught somewhere between nirvana
And complete insanity,
Knotted-up together, all lost together –
All completely ignorant together
Huddled in a pile.

The garden, the garden is not a place for stopping
And smelling the roses.
This patch of green, overrun with debauched airheads
Is the sort of place where you want you escape.
The type of verdant field in which once you’ve arrived –
You can’t remember just how long you’ve spent –
Among the natives.
A paradise where every yearning and burning
And begging and desire one might have
‘neath the skin can come true!

In the shade of a demon, sun-tanning his wings –
Crawls hungry lust and jealous pride well-hidden behind
Sparkling trinkets, shimmering ornaments, shining things.
Oh, look how it all glitters in the morning light!