Pearly Gates

PEARLY GATES I’m brought before Saint Peter, On display in a clear glass crate, Nothing hidden up my sleeve, Except a hammer, I jest to escape. He approaches me out of nowhere, Ask him for a chat while we wait, Gentle voice replies “of course son” We’re summing up, there is no haste. Listen! played the hand I was dealt, Although bluffed, behind a poker face, Concealing more lies than honesty, Yet love always, outshone the hate, At times life seemed unbearable, Beyond all reason to procrastinate. When younger I couldn’t get enough, Though excess, simply led to waste, Won’t bore you with petty details, For fear deaths a pitiless place, Bit late in the day, seeking salvation, Begging forgiveness, no saving grace. “Never said a truer word my child, Crocodile tears, cannot work this case, Condoned, condemned, in the balance, On very thin ice, this verdict skates.” “Whatever I say does not matter, It’s meaningless gone past debate, God alone will pass the sentence, Life’s evidence, will judge your fate. By David Kavanagh