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

The subject

It beckoned its subject
That space bathed in light
That would only but once
Be captured in flight.
There was a majesty in its corners
Holding an essence so sweet
That it arrested the promise
Of a special retreat.

Image copyright: Mr.Carbohydrate

The perspective

Oh there you are

Standing tall like a gift,

Cutting through the madness

Of a life set adrift.

Spending time watching droplets

That the rains gave away

Releasing ripples in an order

To bring chaos and decay.

When all is but crippled

Cradle the thought

For it's the freedom to think

That cannot be bought.

The drifter

By the time it hit twenty

I knew it was now

But all that came was a silence

To furrow the brow.

Only an echo that moseyed

Its way in from the back

Dragging its heels

To reveal a distant lack...

Of something much better
Something far more profound

But never quite realised

Its depth run aground.

The farce

Oh what a fandango

Marched through by a farce

What is this merry waffle

Making all such a larf?

Book me that ticket

Take me there, go

To that place of the pharaohs

Where some truth can bestow,

A grand gesture of grace,

A great speech of the depth,

That the blasé prankster

Is left crippled, bereft.

The ordinary

So much to gain

So much to lose

Perhaps the real challenge

Is just having to choose.

Absorb it all, languish

Or really press play,

Seek out the other

Who will not ask that you pay,

To look beyond the ordinary

To step outside the gate,

To seek the real thing

That will stir some debate.

The course

Confusion abounds

As to what to do now,

Turn and discover

Or stick and allow,

That other order to direct the course

To resist the urge

To butt in, to intercept

To charge the horse.

The balance

At the time I just couldn't tell

Whether it was cause or accident,

That had cast such a spell.

But it lingered there,

Like a doubt on a string

Constantly at odds

Yet certain to bring...

Some more questions to the argument

Some more thought to my day,

Just a glimpse of reflection

Yet such disarray.

The black

What to do when the world turns black

When there is nothing to welcome,

But only to attack.

When the one crusade

Is no longer enough,

To keep us from the cave

The stillness and the dust.