The Pride Of Ghosts And Angels Poem by illinois haze

The blackest night
in the most subtle room
epitaphs read over candle light
scents that act as fumes
can they hear us?
are they listening?
A leather bound book
overwhelming words from the heart
can you sence thier looks
I can almost see them resting on the bar
read on infinite observer
read on my brother in arms
can they hear us?
are they listening?
the night has gone
we leave the candles lit
they shall read the songs
and drink the wine we left to sit
the ghost poets
we write how they do
the whisper of angels
inspire the words of truth
with a flick of our wrist
its our only shot
the ghost and thier rhyme schemes
the angels and the Son of God
we must rest in thier presents
i have a feeling thier proud
from the ink stained sheets
to the hope filled words
we speak aloud
can they hear us?
are they listening?