An angel fell with his wings broken, amidst the heroes,
from his mouth, words sounded like true diamonds.
Wherever I look, through open doors or windows,
I'm looking for you, but you... are no longer among us.

You flew with us for a while, but you've reached another world,
the angels can now ease our pain and keep you safe.
They told you to leave this earth, with your destiny curled,
people full of tears now are digging your grave.

Now we have bitter rain in our hearts, and so much grief,
candles will light up our evenings in our sight.
With eyes in tears, we ask for the divine relief,
it's the day when the stars fall, there is no longer light.

We will wake up from the shadows of the night
to see your innocent image printed in the sky and calm.
It's not fair. But maybe angels think that this is right,
your face, your smile will always be our balm.

Your very own being was a wonderful music and poetry,
the angels say that your soul by them has been kissed.
I can't read words about you and not being hurt, I agree,
may God rest you in peace! You will be sorely missed!

I tell ya.
Angels
are not as much of a flight risk
as you first may think.
The cherubim however
are flighty
and way more likely to fly off
at the baby's first cry
Like they've got somewhere else to be.
Just try. You'll see.
Not even a bye-bye.

But angels, oh man.
Angels -
I'm a fan.

You can set your Sat Nav
on an Angel.
Dreamtime or lunchtime,
they'll be your guide.
- Sublime.

Me and Mary
were fans.

- Jesus!
Put those nails down.
If your mum catches you with those, she'll go spare.

Unborn and already
A path has been chosen
By those that are not them -
To become another cog
In the inescapable machine that is society.

Born - early, half dead.
A step toward failure in
The eyes of their creator
For what they cannot control -
To be fixed and set right
On the path that they will learn to detest.

Developing - on time
To the doctors’ surprise.
The creator gives praise,
But the approval never lasts -
The environment is unsteady and
Unfit for angels to properly grow.

Learning - to please
Instead of exist as one’s own,
Matured in the wrong ways
For an angel of that age -
Molded to never cause concern
No matter the magnitude of circumstance.

An inconvenience to their maker
Unless they could be shown off
For the benefit of the creator -
In private often belittled
And ignored for so much as being a child.

In public a model,
A display of perfection -
Quiet, reserved. Listens well.
A miniature of their puppetmaster
(As what the creator allowed to be seen).

Yearning - to deviate
To become their own
Without the wrath that
Has always followed a stray
From the carefully chosen path
That their master has made so
Impossibly unachievable.

Desperate - attempting to remove
Their wings, Trying everything to
Fall from grace -
To be cast aside and never acknowledged
Or cared for again.
An attempt to be free
Executed in the worst ways -
Broken and bleeding they
Almost always return to
The way it was before as
Their creator sees nothing but
A way to start over and
Mold them once again
Into something unattainable.

For the rest of eternity
All the angels who taste individuality
Pursue endlessly that
Momentary tinge of
Identity; willing to
Try anything and
Everything to become
Angels of their own
Once again, well
If you could call them that.

i lose myself
    looking
for a peek of you
     to breathe again
i apologize for the past
   you come and go like the seasons
just when i release my demons
   for some reason we meet at the same place

you’ll come again for the betrayals
     but meet my angels

The figures in my dreams must be angels,
Speaking in words I can’t hear when awake,
That beauty surrounding me is angels,
Their silent love beyond what I can make.

There’s no love like being loved by angels,
Whose embrace is welcomed by resting hearts,
My most intimate dreams are of angels,
Their love is timeless without ends or starts.

Feelings I feel in dreams come from angels,
Who kiss me with lips that form perfect smiles,
Releasing my soul to dance with angels,
In romantic step down flowered aisles.

I dream to dream once again of angels,
With mystic fingers soft as nothing’s touch,
To once again lie down with the angels,
And dream of angels who love me so much.

I dreamt that I was sleeping
Dreaming in the night
Grey and crying Angels
Were lit by candlelight
And in the flames the faces
Of those who lived and loved
Now troubled by the traces
Of the lies of all the Gods

I dreamt that I was dreaming
A battle in the night
The grey and crying Angels
Were ready for the fight
The Common and their Senses
Marched up from empty land
No prayer could change the changes
Of The Apocalypse at hand

I dreamt that I was dreaming
Screaming in the night
The grey and crying Angels
Outnumbered in the fight
I soon saw The Four Horsemen
And all the Seven Seals
I knew that I was dreaming
But God, it felt so real

No use in crying for mercy
Or praying prayers for help
The grey and crying Angels
Were lost, that night they fell
A thunderstorm was raging
Black smoke had blurred my sight
I dreamt that I stopped dreaming
Lay weeping in the night

I dreamt that I was sleeping
I dreamt that I went back
To the valley of inferno
The fields of Angel’s Wreck
The countless dead and slaughtered
In pouring rain lay slain
Neither sense nor faith claimed victory
But the truth had lost again

Mountains drip into devils pond
Broken wings float and fall
Clueless and reckless they fought
Angels of fallen
Angels of darkness
They fly around my mind
Whipping into kelidoscope frames
The outskirts of joy
The edges of pains
They rise and drift
Like summers breeze
Cold and stiff they no longer breathe
Harsh and irrational they plunge
Diving into the deep ends of thoughts
It pains me to see them leave
The give me strength
Whilst to others deceive

Her smile hits like rays of sun
Her eyes explosive. Like the bang of a gun.
Her hair was soft like tailored silk.
Her voice was quick with witful skill
Her presence calm, an oceans breeze
Her hand in mine, the gentlest squeeze.
Her body pressed so close to mine
A heat that makes a fresh sun shine.
My sweetest angel still.

My fingertips graze the softly lit sky, ripping through clouds made upon my arrival.
For I am a guest of most divinity, chosen by the one who will make me holy.
Wings spanning wide at the hips, keep me up through the pink dying backdrop of above.
The world below unseen to anyone, unwanted by anyone.
My halo is missing, I cannot find it, I cannot see the truth without it.
The sky draws dark now, illuminated with friendly regard now visit with intent to seek the unseen.
The pale glow from dusk now settles to a sheet of dark.
I am here, I am alone, I am holy.