THe poet tree bus rides again!
Well disciples here we go.
I was walkin and talkin to mrs EEjit and we came round to life and death and the hereafter. I was thinking, and I confess I don't much these days, and I should, of my Dad ,who died when I was 16, almost 300 years ago. I felt he hadn't a great life and I felt he sacrificed his happiness for ours and I felt heavy in my heart and I hadn't really felt actually physically heavy of heart before.
And we were wondering if there is a heaven and if there is my Dad is surely up there. But then if there is a heaven, there must also be a hell and the thoughts of eternal hell is not at all pleasant. If hell is a reality it surely should be feared and yet the final judgement is like an exam around the corner and I continually fail to revise for the test.
Do we shove the realities of death too far away, should we face the challenge of life more square on? Wouldn't it be better if there was neither heaven nor hell, if we just lived the best or worse we could and then died? Eternity is quite a long time.Eternal bliss has it's advantages but if there is such a thing as eternal damnation should we not be better prepared?
For me I would like there to be nothing after death, you live, you die, that's it, feck it.I'm no good at tests.They're all fine and dandy if you pass but what about the failures? This eternal life after death is a feckin curse. Can you imagine dying, that's bad enough , but being rent from your friends and family and leaving this life alone? All alone facing into a new heaven or a new hell without a hand to hold , lips to kiss or worries to be shared? Fuck me! I hate doing anything on my own, even nipping down to Aldi, let alone facing into eternal hellfire pain and torment and watching Liverpool.
Also are there degrees of heaven and hell? If I never park in a mother and baby space, stay faithful , pay a few bills and don't murder anyone, should I really be in the penthouse suite with Mother Theresa ? Conversely if I were to punch a few politicians, drive my car without a tax disc and steal a pound of sausages from Tesco, should I really share a bunk bed with Adolf Hitler?
So this weeks challenge poetry peeps is to tell me your reality. Your hopes, fears, worries, dreams, hope, despairs, indifference of the next life, or lack of it.Whether you be catholic, agnostic, protestant, muslim, atheist, buddhist, Jew, mormon, amish, baptist, liverpool fan, whatever tell me your truth in a poem.
Ps. I don't know anything about anything but I was walking (again, I do my best thinking while drunk and/or walking) and absent mindedly thinking about all my relatives that I loved and who had supported me unconditionally through my life and I was thinking how I was lost without them and their support when this gust of wind from nowhere pushed me gently but firmly in the back along the path. I being a kind of a 'believer' took this to mean that though 'gone' they were still with me and also that I would see them again.I took some comfort from this.
If I weren't a believer it might just have been a meaningless isolated meteorological phenomenon, or an abstract ethereal blip . Either,all, or none, could be true. Let me know!
Write them poems! And put a comment in my comments box so I can post links to all your pomes.The Bus leaves on Monday burt here are a few early birds...
fORGET IGNORANCE, POETRY IS BLISS.. ask Karen!
Double Trouble Teressa
And apron strings eternal
Moo! Watch out for Weaver!
Communionication with Peter Goulding
Sorting the Tiger Woods from the trees with Rachel Fox
Little light Lakatos
Lupus treading soft
Come home, feed the cat , but Don't Feed The Pixies
See God through Barbara's binoculars
Life after death with Niamh
Weighty thoughts from Willow
Blast from the past Gypsy Moth Dominic Rivron
Angsty then Argent goes to Nashville
Tell us Titus!
One way ticket NanU
Return Journey visions from the Fox
Gifts for the reaper The Watercats
Hungry is the night Pure Fiction
Blowing bubbles with Emerging Writer
Sad Faith from Poetikat
'A wig of wires to helmet yourself '...... Winds of change from Padhraig Nolan