Monday, 28 December 2009


These are the silent times, the best of times
Where reflection is the handmaiden of realisation
To soak in the tallow glow of a candle flickering dimly
And find memories laid bare to analyse retrospectively
To hear the voices in the still nothingness
And observe the shapes eldritch formed which try to defile
This is the calm before the storm when all will come again
To seek to confuse the namelss scribe of introspection
Sounds from a distant melancholy invading cunningly
Seeking to make true on the harpies' seductive deception
But never to find their way into the protective stream
This is the moment of our benediction to higher powers
When we put pen to paper and let words flow like liquid cyanide
A curtain call to those who would but listen for its instruction
And a calling card for the dissolute, disaffected generation
So bask in these moments well my friends
For they will only come when least expected
And once we float away on the obsidian wings of angels
We shall find our truth, before all is lost in the maelstrom of consequence

Reg Davey

Country of Residence: UK

Hometown: Nottingham