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.

How can you be truly tough
In this painful world?
How can you stand firm
When the spears of agony are hurled?

Most people in the proud US of A
Don't have a clue of the
price they have to pay.

Western people do not know
What hardship really is.
So gratitude is lacking...
It is this...


Gratitude is having a ***
That doesn't leak,
To walk miles for diseased
Water from a creek.

Gratitude in thanking God
For the dry wood
To cook the rice or millet
For your food.

Gratitude is finding
A pair of shoes
In a garbage heap
That you can use.

Gratitude is finding
Pesos in your hand
When you beg the streets
In a poor land.

Gratitude is escaping
Vicious thugs
Who deal in human
Trafficking and drugs.

Gratitude is Hellen Keller
With no hope
Finding Annie Sullivan
To cope.

Gratitude is having NOTHING
And in pain
On one's deathbed, but yet
The fact remains

They are redeemed
And they have Lord Jesus' grace
So they know that they
Will look in his sweet face.

Being tough is seeing life
As is and still not breaking
Being brave and looking
Not forsaking

Being tough is a
Mental attitude.
Loving God and thanking Him

It's GRATITUDE.**


SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) September 28, 2014

...my seventeenth drink in two hours
when my head went from resting peacefully in your lap
to hung over the toilet seat I somehow managed to get to in time
vomiting self-hatred and cheap *****
that I realized I should have eaten something that day.

...you asked about the sixty-two marks on my arm
that I purposely (drunkenly) left in plain sight,
unconsciously hoping someone would ask if I was okay,
that I realized you would be anything to me
but nothing hits harder than the fact that
despite "your understanding of how I'm feeling"
I still wanted to die of 200% alcohol in my bloodstream.

...we were lying on the cold, hardwood floor
with your arm under my head and your lips pressed to my neck
(although I'm not sure if that actually happened)
that I realized I could be happy even at my lowest.

...we woke up the next morning,
next to each other but not touching,
that I realized the night before was a one time thing
and even though you saw me at my worst,
all you really know is my first name
and that I have hundreds of scars on my left inner arm and both my hips,

but you didn't say a word to me all morning.

i don't need promises or to discuss the idea of forever, maybe someday, but not now. and if you need honesty, yes, i have always been terrified of love. although, for the first time i find myself wanting now, this moment, my right hand in your left. i want our love in the rawest form, our hearts on the line, even with the knowledge that this could save me or completely drown me. i want you to hold me as if letting go would shatter every fiber of my being. i want to know what makes you whole when you feel empty, all the secrets you keep tucked away under your skin, and why you keep them there. i want to hear the stories of every scar that covers your body, if you cried when you got them. i want to hold your hand when 4AM comes and you've had another nightmare about your father. i want persuasive kisses (god it works each time) and morning breath whispers of "five more minutes" when i wake up to the sound of my alarm to leave. my love, my eyes have grown tired of searching and would not mind being set on you. (is that like saying forever?) for the first time, i am letting down my barriers that separate us, *i want to fall and be caught.