Happy poems

Therein within the man
Lies the gate to hell
The gate to heaven, and
They can be whatever you make of them
Hell can be gleeful, bright
Heaven, a jacuzzi of boiling water
Poured to make a most distasteful experience
But, poor man
He’s not allowed the liberty
To think wide, wild or even wrong
He must stay on the right track
He must seek by the books,
Find in the books,
Live by the ink etched on each page
Because all else is false.

Victor Oyedele