Telegram from Heaven
A telegram from Heaven came this morning.
It’s something I’m resolved to save for later—
Whether or not it serves as urgent warning.
A telegram from Heaven came this morning.
I’m not embracing here, nor am I scorning,
This sudden revelation. I’m a waiter.
A telegram from Heaven came this morning.
It’s something I’m resolved to save for later.
–Tom Riley
On Your Side
You tell yourself that Heaven’s on your side.
Your confidence, I say, is displaced dread.
When with the way things are your plans collide,
You tell yourself that Heaven’s on your side.
The world that you envision isn’t wide.
On misperception all your plans are fed.
You tell yourself that Heaven’s on you side.
Your confidence, I say, is displaced dread.
–Tom Riley
Self-Addressed
You prayed mistaken
prayers, will be delivered to
an erroneous afterlife.
–Tom Riley
Celestial Number
If I dial
the celestial number, will Heaven
even pick up?
–Tom Riley
Chess Is 99 Percent Tactics
Robert E. Lee has not been named a saint–
except in Heaven, where no doubt he has.
A sympathetic figure now he ain’t:
He falls afoul of rap — and maybe jazz.
In old age, he revealed unguessed pizzazz.
Even his allies called him Granny Lee
at first — but dropped the appellation as
he smote with thunderbolts the enemy.
He lost at last — but kept his dignity.
Those who defeated him saw how he shone
with courage, principle, and sanctity.
Today’s weak souls declare he must atone.
I’ve heard — and I declare I doubt it not–
he and St. Michael now play chess a lot.
–Tom Riley
Mythmaking
Mythmaking is a risky business, guy:
The heaven you invent will be your hell—
For you alone will have to live the lie.
Mythmaking is a risky business, guy:
You fashioned waxen wings and thought to fly.
What’s in the paintings, though, is how you fell.
Mythmaking is a risky business, guy.
The heaven you invent will be your hell.
–Tom Riley
Predestination
Et oratio eius fiat in peccatum.
The Hell predestined for this Pharisee
Will seem like Heaven to his darkened eyes.
Whores all around will offer flattery.
How righteous he will feel then – and how wise!
His endless stream of self-deceiving lies
Will fill a sea of grinning confirmation.
The vulgar habits I myself despise
Will bathe in unrelenting celebration.
Nevertheless, this will be deep damnation.
The face he views forever in the sky
Will not be God’s. Contentment in that station
Will prove a curse, though chuckles never die.
This is a game that hypocrites can’t win.
Their prayers are turned serenely into sin.
–Tom Riley
Step Away
I step away. I leave your fate to chance—
Or else to Heaven, as you may prefer.
This isn’t such a complicated dance.
I step away. I leave your fate to chance.
I watch indifferent things as they advance
And unintended pains as they occur.
I step away. I leave your fate to chance—
Or else to Heaven, as you may prefer.
–Tom Riley
Blessed Silence
Thank Heaven that
the angel Heaven sent had
nothing to say!
–Tom Riley
De Lazaro Parabolico
Across the Great Abyss you view your foes.
In life, you always knew this day would come.
I’m preaching justice here. How wearisome
My mortal voice must sound, its highs and lows
So distant from the aural wine that flows
Where you reside! Indeed, I would be dumb
And keep my words from adding to the sum
Of human chattiness: this goodness knows.
But, oh, I need to comment on your joy
In lines that number twice the holy seven
Even if klutzy errors do annoy
The well-tuned ears of those who know the Leaven
Of Paradise! I’m glad for you, dear boy:
The best revenge is looking down from Heaven.
–Tom Riley
Flammeus Gladius 