A few Christmases ago I put up a thing, it was quite seasonal and quite funny I thought
It was adapted from a small playlet I'd once written many years before
It was quite long though and I doubted whether many would ever read it
But I remembered it was a lot of fun to write
So I put it up anyway not expecting much
And surprisingly it actually seemed to do very well
A lot of people seemed to read it and like it
One of my fellow poet colleagues she was so impressed she even bought a star for it
I thought to myself "That means it would have appeared on the front page for a time "
Then I thought "Y'know that's a bit like getting a Christmas No 1 in the music charts, appearing on the 'front page' isn't it"
(A Christmas No 1 in the UK music charts was always a big deal)
I thought to myself "Well now you can die happy, when you go upstairs to the pearly gates
You'll be standing there with all the other guys and they'll be all shaking and trembling in fear.  But I won't be shaking, I'll be standing there like I didn't have a care in the world
And when God would come out and start questioning each of the new applicants
He'd finally come to me,  and he'd point his big fearsome finger down at me and ask
"So what did you do when you were down on Earth ?"
And I'll look back at him real unconcerned and cocky like and then I'll point my own finger right back at him and say "Christmas No 1 Big G"
And he'd be gobsmacked, yea he'd be wowed by this
He'd start stuttering and stammering "Wow! You... you.. you mean you had a Christmas No 1.,. just like.. just like the Pogues Fairytale of New York"
Then I'd have to correct him "No! The Pogues never got to No 1 they only got to Number 2, they were held off the No 1 spot by the Pet Shop Boys with their cover of "Always on my mind"
The Pogues should have been No 1 as their song was an original one not a cover ".
God will probably ask me then"Always on my mind, how did that one go again "
And I'd have to start to hum it for him"You were always on my mind (and then the keyboards kick in) do do do do/ do do doo You were always on my mind
And then the bridge or chorus "Showw me, show me that your sweet love hasn't died/ You were always on my mind-d-d/You were always on my mind"
And God will start humming it with me
"Do do do do/do de do
Do de do do/do do do "
Then suddenly he'll stop and shout over at St. Peter
"Hey Peter, roll out the red carpet, we got royalty coming ".

-(read the text in the parentheses if you care hehe)

the gates are opening
and—i don’t mean to sound crass
but the tainted and staggering woman
and the saturated spineless specimen
are ****** and plastered with poison
their corpses are decorated in holly leaves
they won’t be eligible to enter
i hate to be the pointer
the dog in the marsh
but their faces are melting
like molten lava
they will bring this disease through
the golden gates agape
i promise i am not the
burner-at-the-steak-er
i won’t aim the musket
with silver bullets
at them
and their porcelain skin
their lies are painted on them
my sore eyes make assumptions
i am shaking my throbbing finger
at your dismayed face
claiming the woman with the
squid-like back
shouldn’t enter the golden gates
but i am here
the hypocrite of the century
taking accountability
but only in privacy
i should be tossed out of the
weightless sky
not banging the gates loudly
declaring that i have a ticket
when the man in the front
says i am denied access
shrieking
demanding
appalled
who am i to say you won’t
be entering the king’s castle?
who am i to judge a soul
just as damaged as mine?
these gates were destined to
keep out stragglers
strangers
thieves
but we are catfighting
because we both think
our ways are more superior
this is such a waste of energy
how dare us both avouch
that our paths to our houses
are the correct ways to travel
ah—yet he took the road less traveled by
and surely got through
to the other side
i might know for sure
that i have the right code
to the front door
but i shouldn’t assert my dominance
on such a similar being as me
leave it up to the guard
(the one with slicked back hair
and a watercolor smile
the one with medallion teeth
and jewelry sculpted from
lemon grass, brass and gold)
at the opening of the golden gates
to call upon us disoriented people
(or illusions as i call us)
and punish and kiss and love and miss
those who
are plunging to their eternal death
the guard will decide
and i don’t think i will make it out
fully alive
or at least without a single rash
or cause of decay
or a single slap on the back for
not trying hard enough
(not a pat on the back as i would
hope for at minimal
for
getting to breathe
the same air as saints and
“paying their way” passengers)
but anyway
the women and i will give
each other fair grins
and maybe even shake twisted hands
mending the wounds we caused
by (maybe) being ignorant?
my wings will start to be restored
but i know i will probably
tumble to my eternal demise
just like the same people
who tried to dictate
other’s lives
or tried to play the guard
in a playwright
dangling the keys
but not taking the time to
review the sign up sheets
hypocrites!
(i included)

I'm not unhinged
To consider gates,
And which side I'm on;
Who's allowed in, or out.
If a gate's open,
Do we rush or seep in?
Uncle Frank's gate leads to his plush meadow.
That's how I envision the Pearly Gates
With a slight squeak as they slowly close
On all the lies outside;
Souls sticking a foot between the gate and the post
While banging on the bars.
But the toes don't lie.

My words unspoken
Never leaving my quivering lips
Ricochet like bullets
Fading in and out
Only some manage to be free
Slipping into proper sound
Forming strange words
Most would rather not hear

The reason for never allowing the flood gates to open
Is for fear that they would never close
That they would be forced in such a way
That they would eventually betray all I hold dear
To fall upon the chancing ear
Or none but my own

- Jay M
January 6th, 2021

If Heaven does exist,
I wonder if a sun shines there.

It seems an awfully cold place to me,
locked away behind those pearly gates,
supported by clouds.

I wonder if so much whiteness is good
for the soul, for the eyes, for the mind—

surely, there is some sort of fire up above
to balance that below.

I wonder if I would know the difference
between the heat of His love
and the heat of what He has created.

If Heaven does indeed exist,
I hope it is orange and yellow and red.
I hope it is warm.

D Vanlandingham

Never more clear to me, than when the  rusted gate,
swung open  did I see the  great fullness, in the value
of choice  to suffer oneself into a place of substance--
forces pulling at me, unfelt.. realms crossed over into,
unscathed.

When she opened up her heart to me..
all Hell, broke loose

I'm just your average joe who knows what the **** is going on
And I've been traveling for god knows how long
I was once standing in front of the pearly gates
But I somehow ended up in Babylon
I don't know how I ended up here
But I swear I'll crawl my way back
Back to the pearly gates
Just for chance
To get inside that lovely place.