The intact

Fall and falter

Fade and collapse,

Then take to the wreckage

To find the intact.

The tread

Take to the carpet
Feel the weight of the tread;
Of the thousands of footsteps
That marry the dead.

Expectations counted on fingers and thumbs,
Of a million lost souls,
At home with their sums
Calculating the entrance of something so grand
Plotting the demise in the palm of a hand.

If it's all in the show
Then what of this parade?
If fame is light
Cast glory in the shade.

The edge

What is it that continues the chase,

That keeps the scene stirring

That sets this pace?

What does it mean to drop off the edge

To create a new order,

And reach for the ledge?

If it is brave

To abandon the reel,

Will it bear fruit

When we unravel its peel?

The beat

Find the gap

That will charge the beat

Choose a rhythm

For the dimple in a cheek,

Route an oasis

In the depths of the soul,

Find the strength to stop

To release the control.

The weave

When they said it would change

It was hard to believe,

That something would turn over

Within the fabric's weave.

Taking on its own colours,

Its unique shape and form
It brought hope of a new era,

A new phase for the dawn.

The now

If all there is is the moment

Then what shall we do next?

Sit and stop, to absorb the breeze

Or rally and wrestle to find some reprieve

And what does that do to the 'to dos' of our day?

Except leave us at liberty to forage and play.

The wheels

Their tread tracked the childhoods

That saw dens and delights,

That bonded friendships like band aids

Through the toughest of fights.

Still today they say freedom,

Those two wheels and a frame
From the cage of the masses

Through the drizzle and rain.

The ritual

What is this ritual

Where we watch in the dark?

Ourselves trapped in scenes

That jostle our souls.

Would it make sense
To a man from the stars?

Or would it seem strange

This eye that reflects?

What do we seek

When we watch for effect?

The archive

Lest we should not meet again

Let us build fortresses to defend our spirits,

Find caves in which to folly,

Dash meadows to marry moments

And ride winds to trace tears.

The tale

When the tale is relayed,

Speak of the land we knew

Where fragments were precious

Where time took its pew.

Where footprints in sands were stolen by winds,

Where mornings of after held better things

Where soils heard of sorrows that hearts never knew

Where the memories of many were sealed by so few.

The barrage

If the barrage goes on

We will crack in the end,

For without concern or foresight

Life too becomes a passing trend.

The flaws

Your words are my silence

Your bravado my reserve,

Your order my chaos

Your line my curve.

Your pedantry is my enquiry,

Your haste my pause,

This is our dichotomy

And it's finding the flaws.

The unknown

To find what is lost

To see what is not yet known

Means climbing outside the window,
And teetering on the edge

To unbind the chains

That keep us trapped and alone.

The want

What is to be done with all this want?

To live on the edge of life,

To maintain the furthest view.

Does fleeing make me a deserter or a seeker of destiny?

When the clock finally stops

How will I know if I have been a seeker,

Or just a prisoner of an energy now lost?

The belief

If this is all that there is

Then let me believe it is truth

For without that belief
I too become a fiction.

The cycle

Trace it
Break it
Escape it.

For only when we are truly free
Will the carousel stop turning.

The imagination

Few will know of the stories they've told,
That spoke of the magic
And lifted the soul.

They've played their way through trouble and trauma

They've nurtured the textures of secret adventures,

If ever in doubt seek their fair solace

For still they embody the mind of its own.

The torment

Where is the channel to transmit all the fury?

When is the point at which to 'go live'?

To press the buttons that turn on the fire

To expose the torment that burns from inside.

The cleanser

The cathartic cleanser came into town

It took to the streets like a serpent surrendered

To penetrate the pockets of a city less known.

It swelled within cobbles of snickets still sacred,
It trickled down panes that had seen sharper faces,

It made for wanderers at curbs and street corners

And tangoed with the treasures of previous deserters.

The reality

I am the words never spoken

The itch never scratched,

The door never opened

The stain on a pristine surface.

I am the reality to be faced

The scar to be revealed

The vengeance to be had.

The chase

The more it is sought, the more it escapes.

Like a page that keeps turning, it never relents.

What is this quest for something anew? Is it a madness masked as desire?

To rebel to the order, we must take on the beast.

But forgo rest for the dream seeker never sleeps.

The doom

Within the walls it lingers, the deluge of doom.

It whispers false hope amidst its phoney parade.

This is the vortex of which we are part, it sucks on our souls while clawing the core.

Cradle the dream of something beyond and once at the brink throw down your sheckles and dance.

The direction

From whence we came we can never be sure, but if the course of our voyage is mapped out before us then surely direction is merely a myth.

The insiders

They've been party to the paths I've never taken, they've grappled with the gravel and chewed on the dust, they've absorbed the textures of many adventures and yet they are left alone, untied at the door.