The sitters

Without those who see
We are encased inside,
For it's the sitters
Within the stillness
Who bear witness to our lives.

Image copyright: Mr.Carbohydrate

The passage

Wanderer or stomper
It's a passage that's unique
Constant in its nature
It's seldom missed a beat.
Skipper or skiddadler,
There's something to be said
For the impression from that surface
To which we're always wed.
Image copyright: Mr.Carbohydrate

The charge

It's here something happens
In this world full of things,
Something beyond
What we know of
Just the tiniest tinge,
Of perfect alignment
Or some sense of place
Where for once we can stand
To charge from the race.
Image copyright: Mr.Carbohydrate

The now

Tap into the source
Get hold of the core
It's only the now
That can release the before.
Image copyright: Mr.Carbohydrate

The reflection

It was more than a reflection
It was the certainty that all
Was a voyage to a wasteland
A reception to the call.
Image copyright: Mr.Carbohydrate

The noise

Enough with these voices
This noise that says less
Than a silence so laden
It's sickened by rest
What is this need to constantly chew
On the cud of opinion
To impress but a few.
Image copyright: Mr.Carbohydrate

The outlook

Somewhere inside
There's a sense that it's raining
A token of joy
Means nothing when feigning
A window that glistens
With paraphernalia
It's like shifting gears
Without a derailleur
Image copyright: Mr.Carbohydrate

The tribe

Stand in or stand out
But whatever don't waver
For when the boundaries blur
Not even a favour
Will create that sense
Of something so primal
Where the seed of a doubt
Is the means to go tribal.
Image copyright: Mr.Carbohydrate

The observer

What is it to watch
A current of feet
A momentum that defines
The mood of a street.
Those singular steps
That merge into one,
Supposedly individual
Strident for some,
But really just traffic
At odds on the run.

Image copyright: Mr.Carbohydrate

The wait

Is it possible to tell
Whether an era will be,
Something charged by nostalgia
Or nothing to those who see,
That every epoch swells with a pride,
That it's difficult to tell on what it may ride
For it's only in memory that stories unfold
And wherever we wait
Our moments grow old.
Image copyright: Mr.Carbohydrate

The crunch

When it strikes, it bites hard
There's no time for reprieve
It's a life based on colour
A merciless siege

Touted by type
Just one more of a bunch
The only real hope
That today you'll make lunch.

Image copyright: Mr.Carbohydrate

The energy

This is the very stuff
The stuff that's right to hoard,
To bury away, to smuggle
To keep hidden from 'the board'.
This is the stuff
To cement
Within the chambers of the soul
That lusting, seamless spirit
That renders everything whole.

Image copyright: Mr.Carbohydrate