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"Hell on the left hand, Heaven on the right, and the Angel of Death behind."

Two Angels

I have two angels sitting here, conversing through my ears.
One seems to think angelic thoughts, and one enjoys the beers.
So I am torn in listening, to muses on each side.
Which way I go when writing seems to be who’s last to chide.

I might receive a message which is clearly Heaven-sent,
Or I may respond to thoughts which have a lower bent.
I am no angel in my heart, though I do try my best.
I’m just repeating things received to get them off my chest.

And whether they are good or bad seems like the time of day,
My angels work in shifts to tell me if I pray or play.
I may express a thought you know an angel wouldn’t touch,
Or I could state a truth that you agree with very much.

Whichever way it comes to me, I let it turn my ear,
But I don’t always consider well the worth of what I hear.
I give them equal witness, for my soul’s a battleground,
For those who will be judging me, my worth is to be found.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . May 9, 2004
© 2004