re-imagining heaven

it is not a place
in this state of mind.
no gold streets
only dental gold yanked
from the mouth of
a toothless monster
with a bad taste
of bad medicine
guilt, heroin, hate
lingering on and
on a forked tongue
no wings attached
to anyone at all
much less a beauty
in her panties
walking angry because
she cannot eat today
Milan is coming soon and
the required brownie points
have too many calories
no halo, just a rusted
crown of thorns worn
so high and mighty that
when we fall it hangs us
cuts our jugular vein
so we bleed in
the place where there
is no more pain and
where we understand
we understand nothing
because we all keep score
like we are Gods
We look elsewhere for heaven
like in the balance sheet
of our good deeds and works
versus our sins
or we author chaos
and condemnation of others
instead of seeing we stand
in heaven already.

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About Jack Varnell

Jack Varnell is not a hero, possesses no fortune, hasn't changed the course of mankind in any way. He is unaware of any whose life has been permanently altered by knowing him, and takes great pride in being an emotional orphan. On the other hand, he is no serial killer, thief, dictator, malingerer, or more Not in jail or institution. Some were sure he would be. Not dead, though bets were surely placed on how long he'd last. He tells a story the world could probably do without, but for him, it is one that must be told.
   23 months ago
I loved this powerful poem. I think heaven is probably different for everybody, but yours is very similar to how I imagine mine to be, with no shame and guilt but a little blood and guts. Great write.

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