Ancient Buddha, set in stone, Guardian of the door, Tell me will you let me in, What else is Heaven for? Oh, I am weak but well-meaning, Given to wishful thinking. Perhaps you’ll promise me the earth If I give up my drinking.
But I’d have thought that one like you Would be among the godly. Not lumbered with a job like this And behaving very oddly. For when you came into my view I saw you in a trance, Looking as though you’d rather be On holiday in France.
If you will stretch a minor point And let a sinner in, I’m sure you’ll feel a moment’s thought Will save you from considering Why it is that I, poor wretch, with no more to my blame Than one unproven parking fine, Should play a waiting game.
I’m pretty sure you could forgive A few mistaken words, Those acts of careless rectitude, Those songs in minor thirds. Perhaps just now you are best placed To do a pal a favour. I am your friend, one of your best, So please do be my saviour.
Disused since Golgotha Defaced by ignorance Scorned by the whole-some Earning only derisive mirth Unwelcome and Unwelcoming This un-entrancing entrance Inaccessible access Faded to a depressing Off-putting welcome As resonant of hope as Hades’ Tunnel of Love
Once undoubtedly New and hopeful Promising Portal Someone’s pride become The neighbourhood’s malediction And the future’s disillusionment.