Art is in the poet not the word
we sing the song
and write the lyrics
to a tune which must be heard

Wrap me in Autumn
warm among the leaves
wind up my colours
take down my flag of living
see it fade to memory
wave it no more
shroud me with October light
think of me as a year
that is slowly dying

Weary soulful sound
The chime of a city clock
Nick heard it calling

Water for ink
stains my toes
biro blue
my ending written
casting words before me
gently bobbing
floating flowers
on the sea of self destruction
curled petals
which read
not yet

Tiny bird I feel you shiver
quivering heart within your breast
strong hands to keep you safe
a place to rest before you fly
go now
spread your wings and say goodbye

Summer half over
Dusty feet in worn sandals
Show my ten brown toes

Shadows caught
waving curtains
nervous fingers
ever tapping
never still
beyond
and
beyond
and
beyond
the endless glassy spirals
filled with glassy spirals of their own
shattered fractal light
tight and broken pieces
filter
flicker
gutter
fall
in darkness
lie in muted heaps
so die the painted shades of sleep