Life After Death

June 8, 2011
By jakebrock BRONZE, N Tonawanda, New York
jakebrock BRONZE, N Tonawanda, New York
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I was with my friend Dan
Driving around in my van
The weather was hot
However, the wind was acting as a fan
And I told him that
I just don't understand
The purpose of man
What should I believe?
The Bible or the Koran?
Or are they just lies?
To get death off of your mind
And turn those who lack vision blind
I swear I just waste my time
Continuously, trying to find
What makes my gears grind
Afterlife is such a mystery
What happens after death?
Heaven? Hell?
Or are we just recycled energy?
Or maybe we all need to achieve nirvana,
Would that allow of marijuana?
Or would this just start war?
Such as the one in Ghana
Why take your whole life to be happy?
When you could live in the moment
And be amused by the small things
Instead of trying to be perfect
Still trying to be perfect when you're old
It's not even worth it
Now I would find that tough
To work so hard to be perfect all of my life
And still ask myself
Do you think I'm good enough?
To be accepted in heaven
And meet whoever is up there
This would make me feel as if I was seven
Or would I feel to odd
Being in the presence of God
This is still such a mystery
Is our life we're living just a dream?
Like a very well put together movie?
That someday we'll get to see
With the only
Together we'll review
What I should and shouldn't do
But only two feet can wear my shoes
So it'd be hard for me to show you
Like a show and tell
And if you watched with me
You may tell me I'm going to hell
Then sometimes I wonder
If I'm living life like a dime
Well at least a nine
I just hope that I'd pass
Hopefully I'm not taking life too fast
With a hell of a past
So that I can live an afterlife that lasts
Whether I'm up there or below
Or just recycled energy that flows
Or what if I'm reincarnated
Into a little bird that lives in a tree
Yeah, that sounds a bit like me
Because all I went to be is free
Just like when they let go of Weezy
Who had to sit in jail
Because his train of life was slowly becoming derailed
So he fixed his spites
To start doing what's right
There's only so many days and nights
To live as a human
It's time to halt the fights
Will somebody talk to the Cubans?
Heaven or Hell
Are they really divided?
And what if I don't agree with where I go?
And who gets to decide it?
If you ask me if I did something
I'm young
But at this point, yea I've probably tried it
Why not?
Life is too short and moves too fast
Why let somebody else guide it?
Oh how I wish I could see
And just somehow believe
Do we go to heaven or hell?
Come back again?
Or are we just recycled energy?
Well at least most
Can't forget about the ghosts
How I just wish I could believe
That my mind wasn't too conceived
So I could just be who I'm supposed to be
Whatever the mind can conceive and believe
It can achieve.

The author's comments:
My thoughts on afterlife

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