If I found myself at the pearly gates I would assume that I got put on the wrong bus. I honestly pictured my afterlife looking like the cover of a Black Sabbath album. You know all lake of fire and imps poking the damned in the arse with tridents and stuff. However, if I was at the pearly gates and standing before Saint Peter, I'd ask to talk to management, because I have questions. When facing the regional manager of the entire universe I'd have to ask:

1. Why do those who profess to be on your team seem to forget your more pesky instructions such as, "Love thy neighbor and pray for thy enemy" and "Judge not lest ye be judged?"

2. Your kid had to borrow a donkey to get where he needed to go...Why do your supposed prophets, teachers, healers, etc. need to fly around on private jets and live in mansions? Didn't God Jr. say, "It's easier for a camel to walk through an eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to get into the gates of heaven." Seems like your middle management missed a memo somewhere.

3. Why do many of your followers get their panties in a knot over unborn children and abortion, but as soon as they're born these poor kids are seen as a drain on the good Christian taxpayer? Why did I, a born again heathen see the benefit of (and take advantage of the opportunity to) adopting a child, but so many of Team Big Guy In the Sky ignore the already born kiddos who are going hungry, homeless, and without loving parents. Shouldn't there actually be waitlists filled with Christians who are waiting to adopt the much sought after child in need? When instead, there are thousands of children languishing in the foster system who may never get a forever home? Why do your most righteous often vote for and support candidates who reduce programs that provide for poor and disadvantaged children that are already here, but fight against a woman's right to choose? Does this mean life is only precious until it raises taxes or affects my monthly budget?

4. Don't you think Satan's job has become a bit obsolete? Humans have proven time and time again that we are plenty capable of doing evil without the need of demonic inspiration and coercion? After masterminding countless genocides, two world wars, hate crimes, and the founding of FOX News I think the mortal student has surpassed the master.

5. Do I not understand the 10 Commandments because my understanding of the, "Thou Shalt Not Kill" commandment seems contrary to the ongoing record of what Christians actually do. Native Americans were slaughtered by the millions or robbed of their cultural heritage by our good Christian founding fathers because they were, "Godless heathens." Our African American brothers and sisters in Christ were torn from their homes and brought to a new world where they were often worked to death because the good Christian slavers and slave owners felt that the good book suggested being a slave isn't all bad. Am I missing something here? It isn't, "Thou Shalt Not Kill Unless it is Advantageous To Pasty White People" is it?

Of course, during my questions I'm sure someone would have hurriedly worked to correct the mistake in my final destination and I would be given the correct ticket for the Fire and Brimstone Express. Come to think of it, if heaven is filled with good Christians I might prefer the other place anyway.

I don't know if my brother is in heaven, cause he ended his life. But I want to see him. Why? You may ask. It's because he's my brother and I love him. I miss the campfires we had and he had all his friends and we would all play football and he taught me how to play and how to become good at it. My brother took me on his back and we got a touchdown together. I miss him so much, people joke about suicide, suicide isn't funny. I miss having him around, he's the closest person i had that I lost. I would do anything to get a chance to see him again.

This is difficult. There are several I would like to see. My mother would be one. Another, my wife, and still another would be a woman named Nancy. Then there would be both sets of grandparents, but this isn't about a family reunion.

But first? I had to think long and hard on this, and I made the decision it would be my father.

We never were that typical father/son, even up to the day he died (August 2000), but I refused to give up on him. On us. The last spoken words I ever heard from him, "Stop calling. My son is dead." Tough words, harsh wordes to hear. That was 1999. I won't even go into how this made my mother feel before she died.

But I choose him because I want to know if after all these years, has the hate and anger he felt against me since birth has finally dissolved.

Two days before he died, I had my closure with him as he lay in a hospital unable to speak or more. This time I want him to have his closure with me.

What would happen after that would be anyone's guess.

[there's no way i just wrote a poem abt this, so imma write another ;)]

when i see the gates

Jesus will be there

happy to see me

but i'll be wondering where

you are

i'll be looking over shoulders

of angels to pick out your face

i don't think i could stay there

if your you don't have your place

i hope you're sitting on the steps

waiting for me and smiling

i hope you hug me

and say you've been waiting for a while

I hope the best for you

and I hope when get up there

i can tell you what you missed

and that i was scared

there's not enough words to say how i feel

so I'll think of your face

i think when i see you

that will make heaven the most beautiful place

Lo, beyond nest, it is Jesus, the Christ Nazareth, that hath compassion in Us. Behind bars, there is see, that Christ is the power of everlasting hand. You, who fought nest, Christ abhor, that there are nations afar to Thee, whom We can let assure, that kneel before, Christ is the very one old to see in heaven core.

Who should I meet first when I walk into the beyond?

My grandfather is the first man that comes to mind, the man who used to sort of put the straight in my back at a holler. The man who used to pick his face absentmindedly while watching old Westerns.

I loved him.

He was mine like I was his, always feeling welcomed and warmed. We did projects out in the garage together, making rocking chairs, talked about carpentry and how tools were used.

Such a smart man.

I'm glad he didn't have to suffer much longer.

The world wasn't giving him much familiar faces, his eyes were tired and his bitter old wife was just sucking the life out of him. (That's okay, I hated her too.)

And then my familiar, my beautiful orange paints tabby, the meanest thing around but if I hollered her name once. She'd stop whatever she was doing, whoever she was assaulting and she'd look at me with that knowing look.

Beautiful girl. Chitter chattering away with me, playing tag and all sorts of other games. She was... breathtaking, beautiful in old age and quiet in death. Curled up neatly in my lap and I'd like to think we might join together as one being, forever combined in death while bringing comfort to her dearest baby brother. The runt.

So here, here I am collecting the toll of souls I'd like to meet in the beyond. Who I'd like to be reborn with or meet again if they haven't dove back into the third dimension and we might smile at each other a while, wait till we've all gathered up and move forward into the next life so we might try it all again. And again... till our souls are so old and full of experience that we can lay ourselves to eternal rest in the rocks and the trees, in the breeze. Eternal. Forever and hardly needed to be remembered by anyone, for anyone that mattered had already gone along with us.

There are plenty of the dead I would like to see, but I don't know how many of them made it to heaven. Maybe I'd talk to Ghandi- If Ghandi cares if I'm a girl, the first thing I'd say would be something to change his mind.

I'd try to find the 13 year old girl I use to perform with, go to camp with, and give her a huge hug. But the Catholics say she won't make it to heaven, cause she killed herself.

Maybe I'd find Darwin, give him a piece of my mind. But they'd probably kick me out after that. I'd find Jesus- was it really you that I saw in my dreams? Are you really my brother? What do you think about how we reacted to your sacrifice? What do you think about your Church? I'd find the White Mouse, and RBG, and thank them for teaching me, for letting me adopt a bit of their soul into my own. I'd nag George Washington, until he looked me in the eye and answered my questions about the founding of America, about what it became. About how he thought. I'd find Harriet Tubman, and even Martin Luther, Hear their words for myself.

But I don't really care- I'll first probably just speak to the first child I see, ask if they could show me around. I don't count on knowing too many in heaven anyway.