Johnny Powell and the Seasonal Beasts


In the Dark Room

oh what fun we had

when our minds were wide

the expectations

almost satisfied

but the honesty was creeping in

a powerful child

the collation of wisdom

cremated, into pride


in the dark room


the terrifying prospect

of death drove us wild

providing a sanity

a clarity

a style

it gave us a purpose

that i still cannot deny

now we’re all bound up, so tight


in the dark room 


who cared about sleep?

who cared about right?

we’re just scratching the surface

of this precious human life

our impenetrable deafness

stubborn little smiles

cloaked the captive whale-like patterns

of a limited life


in the dark room