All the poets are leaving

Songs lift on wings

Lovers are grieving

There’s no one left to sing

The poets are fleeing

Witnesses retreat

Cupboards are being emptied

For the apocalyptic feast

And know one knows

How this will go

And know one knows

Who runs the show.

And they don’t care

You can be sure

They laugh and dance,

But they’ve lost the word.

The poets are losing,

It’s always been this way

Blind will lead the blind

Into darker days

The poet spoke

Before he left…

“You want it darker”

They haven’t finished yet

And no one knows

How this will go 

Know one knows

Who runs the show

Stranger times

Have come and gone

The poet is leaving

His work is done.

Stranger times

Have come and gone

The poet is leaving, 

His work is done…..