Monday, 11 October 2010


So am resigned to circle the drain, in a state of rose tinted delusion
collecting the dust, between the black and white keys,
searching for inspiration in the dead thoughts of my betters.
Pealing gold foil from the letters and halo's of saints.
One eye blind from squinting, through the cracks around doors,
from peering through keys holes and pin hole cameras,
trying to see the whole big picture in one chamber,
When the beauty is in the whole lot of them singing together.

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