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.

I had to hear the sound of the zip on that dress
I asked her back to mine for cold coffee and cigarettes
She said she doesn't smoke but she'd have one to impress
and she isn't one for coffee
So sorry, I digress

Before she sat down all these lines coalesced
with secrets and lies, I try to confess
she catalysed a crystal convalescence
her garnet eyes sparking wildfires in my chest
my lungs are so tight they could rival her dress
Stung in the heart for kicking the nest
took a shot in the dark
Again, I digress

A small crowded room - as small rooms tend to be
but for everyone there, she was all I could see
the picture of perfection, framed perfectly
in a dress designed to buckle my knees
Crowded c'rod'd quickly becomes we
and I was trying to get her on my settee
Is it a metaphor if I meant it literally?
Excuse me, once more it seems
I digress

I just had to get her out of that dress
mess up her make up
make her hair a mess
kiss her when she wakes up
and watch her get dressed
to undress her again
exalted by the scent
bask in the sound
of the zip on that dress
while I sip on cold coffee
and smoke cigarettes