"heavenbound" poems
No feeling can compare
Nothing between besides air
Friendless colors drift around
Designed to be heavenbound
In a world of one's own
Clear ears for a headphone
Mar 7, 2010
Mar 7, 2010 at 7:14 PM UTC
Today the radio announcer said,
Some lonely man was now so dead,
That in his last time on this Earth,
He soon become the opposite of birth.
He lived alone in such a dingy place,
A long time gone from the human race,
Lost in the crowd that rushed him by,
The radio didn't say how he died.
Of course, the clouds and rainy day,
Precluded his trip to this darkest way,
That on the train to the heavenbound,
He finally realized he was no longer around.
What such a shock to find you're finished,
When lived a life so dull and unblemished,
With no glorious feats or races to run,
He lived his life and on purpose had no fun.
Who cried for him and pretended to care,
When not even the priests and nuns were there?
No relatives with hands held out for money,
So they could live in the land of milk and honey.
So, all his so called treasures he held so dear,
Was tossed in the gutter and trash I fear,
For value of things are really not of use,
When someone is dead you silly goose.
Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 4:43 PM UTC
I'm gone.
And if I'm not,
Then I'm slowly fading,
Erased from thought,
My mind degrading,
Memories on fire,
Existence blazing,
But through the fire,
I stand there gazing.
But...
I'm lost.
Because if I wasn't,
Then I would be found,
Raised from the ashes,
Like a phoenix heavenbound,
So I'll face the thrashes,
Of anxiety leaving my mind,
I am forever now ashes,
Of a phoenix,
That fell to the ground.
Nov 1, 2021
Nov 1, 2021 at 10:01 AM UTC
•~ A tidal strait is a strait connecting two oceans or seas through which a tidal current flows. Tidal currents are usually unidirectional but sometimes are bidirectional. The East River is a saltwater tidal estuary or strait in New York City. The waterway, which is not a river despite its name, connects Upper New York Bay on its south end to Long Island Sound on its north end. (Wikipedia)~•
The river by my dwelling is miscalled by all,
in verity, it is a tidal strait, a battling diversity of fresh and saltwater, with currents visible, bidirectional, clashing eddies underway, are
underwater arguments boiling up to the surface,
!a perfect metaphor for a New Year!
<•>
each year seems like a tumult survived,
the currents of joy and its many alternates,
seem to always clash, spot staining
and yet
the estuary of life flows on and on,
the two seas remain connected,
the salt and the fresh intermingling,
waters
surf~officially calm, stoic,
but appearances misleading
every year different
every year also similar,
substance may vary,
the surprises differing,
but we for-see troubled waters
neath the glassine superficial surficial,
and we hold hands,
knotted fingers until
we raise out arms heavenbound,
asking why,
but expecting no answer
for we
knowingly
live our lives in a
tidal strait
Jan 1, 2025
Jan 1, 2025 at 10:52 AM UTC
Some of them say we were split at the start
Off I go stumbling, a half-cocked Cortes
After Venus who has part of my heart
"This gold is for God," my grinning mouth says
Some of these brothers were split right in two
By saw on the rawest end of the deal
Standing right next to that heavenbound crew
Of me does this old world quite worthy feel
Some of my feelings are split as of now
I want to stand, ask, and be justified
But as indignation pulses my brow
Holy teeth rake and scrape out the inside
Perhaps I'm just grinding salt into flesh
Trying by brute force to make the two mesh
Apr 26, 2025
Apr 26, 2025 at 8:48 AM UTC