The Poetry Bus/Ferry Across the Styx

This week, TFE has come all over metaphysical and has asked is to write about Heaven, Hell, the hereafter and all suchlike stuff and the challenge can be found here.

I thought I'd have tons of ideas for this but when it came down to it, they all died, which may be symbolic of something or other - or else it just means I'm nowhere as prolific as I think I am.

Anyways, here's this:

Death's Ditty

Here they come, the human race

Some with rancour, some wih grace.

Running, falling, stting still.

Some with fever, some with chill.

Some are young and some are old.

Some are fearful, some are bold.

Some have died and some were killed

Some come peaceful, some are spilled.

Some are stoned, and some are burned

I am death, and unconcerned.

Some come gladly, some don’t dare

But I am death. I do not care.

And this old song that I wrote ages ago (imagine it sung to the most cheesily awful country 'n western toon imaginable).  It has occurred to me that most of us will be dammned for the petty little sins we did, rather than the great big ones like murder, armed robbery and the like, so....

I'm Not going to Heaven

 

Some people give to charity

Some people help the poor.

Some people murder children

Or start an illegal war.

There’s a place in heaven waiting

For all the holy saints.

And another destination

For those with no restraint.

I’m not going to heaven

I’m not bound for paradise

Cos while I’m not exactly evil

I ain’t exactly nice

I’m not going to heaven

For me it’s just too late

There’s a great big sign that says KEEP OUT!

Hanging on the Pearly Gates

I hung on to my last Rolo

I need my chocolate fix.

I told my friend what happens at the end

When he was queuing for the flicks.

My neighbour loves whodunits

He’s gonna fly into a rage.

He crossed me once and now his books

Are missing their last page.

Do as you’d be done by

The bible loves to teach.

But I used up all the loo-roll

And left the new ones out of reach.

I often squeeze the toothpaste

In the middle, not the end.

I play my drums in the middle of the night

To drive people round the bend.

So while I never killed a man

Or robbed somebody blind.

There won’t be any statues

For the good I’ve left behind.

What happens when I pass away

Only time will tell.

Cos I’m too bad for heaven

And I’m too good for hell!