please tell your ghost to stop following me
and whispering in my ears
that i was not good enough
please tell your ghost to stop following me
and calling me sweetheart
and putting his hands all over me
please tell your ghost to stop following me
and watching me while i cry
about how i miss you
please tell your ghost to stop following me
and laying in bed with me
keeping me from closing my eyes
please tell your ghost to stop following me
if i can't have you
then i don't want your
ghost

This is the last poem to ever be written
The very last rhyme to come down the line
We'll look back on it all, this thought in the making
And realize the decision was not taken light

With poetry reflecting the heart as it's given
Sometimes filling the spot in an unmade bed
Breathing into the moment words that are living
A thousand times over, what must be said

This is the last poem to grace these pages
The last piece of poetry leaving all this behind
Last in a line of heart felt words being delivered
Giving a blind notion a sliver of natural light

The last poem to show up for the party
With nothing prepared before they shut out the lights
All dressed up with no where to go
As it steps through the door in its last goodbye

An Angel and a Demon, above the world, filled with chaos and destruction. Debating over saving humanity or letting it fall into devastation.....

This world is worth saving,
You see the good ones down there,
Praying and helping?  
Good beats evil, every time.
Letting things fall apart would be a crime.

My angelic friend, you're too high in the sky,
Grace us; come down from that ivory perch.
It won't take much to see through the lies,
Not much at all, to see what they're worth.

Dear demonic soul, don't you know?
Their worth is not in question.
Their value is more than our weight in gold,
Have some more appreciation!

Right--between war, the crucifixion and ****,
These humans are just such lovely things.
They aren't filled with a single ounce of hate,
Oh, come now! See the atrocities they bring!

The things you say may be true,
But there's so much good down there.
Remember Noah and the Renaissance?
The missionaries and volunteers, they still care!

Oh, goodness! Yes, how could I forget?
******* Priests with their souls to sell?
Rich lead the depraved farther into debt?
Your precious world is going straight to Hell!

No, you monster! How dare you talk like that!
These are human beings, not toy things.
They'll prove you wrong, peace is coming.
Go tell your puppet master to cut his strings!

Don't PREACH to me of puppetry, fairy!
Whatever happened to your God's free will?
Compared to Earth, Hell isn't that scary!
**** rat race! ***, money, egos, and thrills!

I'll preach what I have to, to save these humans souls,
Spineless creature.. You're wrong on so many levels!
I can't wait to dance with glee, while you unravel,
Dragging your worthless shell back home to the Devil!

I guess the horrors before you aren't enough,
You must want your sandbox to turn to doom.
These aren't falsehoods--this isn't a bluff,
Say what you will; Hell's running out of room!

.... And there Angel and Demon bickered, for what seemed an eternity. Purity prospered in parts, where death and deprivation brought others into declension. At odds and ends, they both returned home, leaving Earth to fend for its own.

italic* What is it like in heaven above i wish i could fly there like a white dove thats where we would meet again and talk like we used to do then but wishes are like dreams like the water that flows from the streams if i could go there just for one day would that be silly or okay but you're there forever  i'll never forget you not never your up there and i'm down here everywhere i go i know you are near i often think of how good and kind you were to me it's you i just want to see your an angel flying in heavens sky like a beautiful colourful butterfly

Why cant those evil people stop i read it in the newspaper when i buy it from the shop so many children have been abused and most of them feel ***** and used i often try to think of what they went through but still there is nothing i can do when i think of the crime the bells of the church will chime then i know its time for the news the stories tonight will not amuse you'll always hear that someone was ***** and that the ****** has escaped the children are suffering the hurt anger pain and shame the abuser should have not played that game for being so cruel and treating that child like a fool