The edge of the outside

The sitters

2010-06-17T23:25:00.003+01:00

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

2010-06-14T22:58:00.002+01:00

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

2010-06-13T23:53:00.002+01:00

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

2010-06-12T12:13:00.002+01:00

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

2010-06-11T22:03:00.008+01:00

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

2010-06-08T22:02:00.003+01:00

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

2010-06-07T23:11:00.004+01:00

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

2010-06-06T00:57:00.003+01:00

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

2010-06-05T00:34:00.003+01:00

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

2010-06-04T00:25:00.005+01:00

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

2010-06-02T22:59:00.003+01:00

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

2010-06-01T18:23:00.004+01:00

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

2010-05-31T13:41:00.005+01:00

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

2010-02-16T21:46:00.002Z

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

2009-12-15T21:24:00.006Z

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

2009-12-14T22:05:00.010Z

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

2009-12-13T23:48:00.005Z

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

2009-11-04T22:50:00.004Z

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

2009-11-03T21:05:00.003Z

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

2009-11-01T00:01:00.004Z

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.

The instinct

2009-10-29T23:21:00.006Z

Take it,
Embrace it
Then create with it.

The story

2009-10-28T21:47:00.003Z

When I walked past that place

It all returned back,

Like a sweep of a shadow

That clambered to pack,

Some more weight to the melancholy

Some more truth to the woe,

If only this recurring spirit

Would its face dare to show.

The light

2009-10-26T21:26:00.004Z

I stopped for a moment

To capture the light

To treasure some seconds

Too soon out of sight.

I wanted to stay there

And press pause for the day,

But 'twas the relentless beat

That took me away.

The state

2009-10-23T23:17:00.007+01:00

If I could bottle this

Capture what is sure to fade,

I could begin to believe

That it's possible not to trade...

The dichotomy of feelings

That parade through the day,

The highs and the lows

The design and decay.

But to remain in this state

Would an affliction be,

For the constant offers no light or shade,

No measure or degree.

The seed

2009-10-20T17:13:00.007+01:00

If I speak of it now

Is it all that I am,

Or could it yet be

Just a seed in the plan...

That will bed in its root

And grow in another plain,

Somewhere fertile and rich
A land with no name.

The risk

2009-10-16T00:01:00.005+01:00

It is curiosity and risk

That finds the edge of our lung,

The centre of our spirit

Where our story begun...

To lay out its scenes

To pick out its roles,

Those details and ticks

That form the tread of our soles.

The pursuit

2009-10-14T22:57:00.003+01:00

If everything is possible,

If it remains that way,

It is worth the pursuit

The time

The energy

The foray.

The tongues

2009-10-13T21:09:00.012+01:00

There is something of wonder

In these sounds that we make,

That cross oceans and borders

Histories alive in their wake.

But to know every tongue

Of all of these lands,

Would ruin the mystique

Of the distant 'ohs' and 'ands'.

For to listen so intently

As to try to translate,

Seems a shame just to focus

On a means to partake.

When instead it is magical

To simply recall,

The inflections and twists

The rhythm of the rise and the fall.

The churn

2009-10-12T23:19:00.016+01:00

Drop a wedge in the cogs

For if the wheel has its way,

The sign will only ever read

'Nothing here to display'.

For it's the stoic, the stalwart

Who keep up the race

Who assuage a throbbing belly,

Fodder since gone to waste.

Chewing on churn

That does nothing but sate,
The jaws of the masses

Oh how they must ache.

And yet it continues
Like muck spread over lands
Layering over everything
Yet out of our hands.

The climates

2009-10-12T23:00:00.007+01:00

The sands will conceal the footprints

The winds no glory allow,

No air to trap the breathless heart

No exit from which to bow.

The soils that spurt growth

That the rains wash away,

The flakes that make a city

A source of urgency and delay.

The lie

2009-10-07T23:10:00.010+01:00

If all is deception then a truth must exist,
But should it step forth
Will it remain but a myth?
What does it take to escape from the lie?
Is to channel the pure, to live to deny?
Take the bold stroke and reveal the show
For when all is dust
Yesterday's silence is tomorrow's woe.

The close

2009-10-04T20:14:00.002+01:00

Looking back it could've been better
But when the heart isn't in it
All that's left is a letter,
To spell out the reasons why it must end
To emphasise the fact the soul cannot bend.
It's a fragile thread that keeps things in place
Seemingly sturdy but patterned with holes like lace.

The net

2009-10-03T12:38:00.012+01:00

So here it is

Another beginning

Another chapter yet to unfold,

Another sense of unravelling reels
Another chance to break the mould.
To change the shape of something so set

To initiate a hiccup, escape the predictable

Break from the net.

The arrival

2009-09-30T23:30:00.008+01:00

All seems muted, bleary yet together

At once familiar but at the same time brand new,

Shapes and forms become a crutch for the senses

Of a tale from the past sliding back into view.

Tricks of time shifting the scene and sequence,

To make up a world woven by déjà vu.

The departure

2009-09-22T23:06:00.005+01:00

When the clock turns

To mark the escape,

The minutes gain momentum

In a rally that's opaque

What is this speed that the hand picks up,

And why is it marked every day

By the dregs of a cup?

The coil

2009-09-21T22:22:00.005+01:00

Throw the coil of angst

Against the wall.

See it unwind and unravel

'Til it cannot enthrall

With its tales of woe and its tired repartee

Disempower its burden with the will to be free

Keep thrashing at its core

As it makes its way back,

And as it returns

Project the fiercest attack.

The retreat

2009-09-19T15:05:00.006+01:00

If the urge is always

To scamper to retreat

What does that mean

For all those people to meet?

What does that say about

An experience of the world

That is consistently shaped

By an escape from the herd.

Why does solitude seem so good?

To be lost and alone

Just oneself in a wood.

The stones

2009-09-16T21:17:00.009+01:00

Let this be the time

To source the seamless energy

The intuitive nature that governs without doubt.

To be free from the flickering passage of thoughts

That entertain like a trickster

A means to truly opt out.

From the current of lethargy,
From the trajectory of blues,

That densely gravelled path
That leaves stones in the shoes.

The projection

2009-09-15T23:01:00.004+01:00

If the mind projects onto tomorrow

While in the today,

Does that make every experience

Just a forecast to display?

The revelation

2009-09-14T20:49:00.008+01:00

When the revelation spewed forth

Like blood from the veins,

It was hard to see what

Had brought some give to the reigns.

Yet the sudden liberation

Gave way to a fear,

That took to the throat

To clamour for a tear.

It beckoned reminders

Of an experience far gone

But still engrained inside,

Like a legacy

That never passed on.

The details

2009-09-13T22:41:00.005+01:00

When I remember the day

It won't be the stuff,

That made its way wearily

From the dawn through to dusk.

The banter within buses passing through towns,

The squirreling street chasers in search of their crowns.

It will be the details and the feelings they stirred,

Captured yet liberated like lemon in the curd.

2009-09-12T17:37:00.014+01:00

The charge

2009-09-12T00:09:00.005+01:00

A punch in the sequence

Sudden colour in the room

Sometimes something comes

A window to transcend the gloom.

The slogan

2009-09-11T00:02:00.007+01:00

The slogan on the side said 'built for the trade'

But the driver's expression said we'd all been made

A reputation concocted over moons and miles,

The work of 'outside agents'

Flashing fake smiles.

What can we know of anything at all

When we're bombarded by messages

Like scrawl on a wall.

Always back pedalling to relieve the threat of a curse,

The everyday portrayal of myths in reverse.

Maybe words should have more to say

And not just promote games to create the play.

The scream

2009-09-09T22:02:00.005+01:00

Stop. Take a breath.

Then holler into a chasm,

With all that is left.

Shout for the beats

of a screaming heart,

Unbridle the voices

Silenced for the part

That has to be played,

That has to be sustained,

The civil, the courteous, the forever restrained.

The imprint

2009-09-08T19:57:00.005+01:00

I left an imprint in that armchair

On that street with no name,

I thought of the others who'd languished there

And played the same game,

Of wondering what the life of another was like

Spectacular and worth savouring

Or unremarkable and trite.

It's funny how these are the places we mark

Like thumbing through pages as a way to stay sharp.

But stranger still that we seldom return,

To all those seats, steps and stairwells

Leaving traces but nothing to learn.

The simplicity

2009-09-07T22:56:00.006+01:00

When the moment has passed

There will be nothing to relay,

No statement in time

No place left to stray.

So instead let's record

The simple acts of the day

Those things that are forgotten

The objects on the tray.

Glances returned like change from our notes

Dancing street wrappers that steer their own floats.

If nothing is noticed,

Then time has its way

Capturing only the seconds

Of a mannequined display.

The havens

2009-09-06T21:17:00.011+01:00

When we have all left

The echoes will be no more,

The soles and swirling cases

Will have taken to another floor.

But what of these places, these homes full of 'things',

With their quirks and curiosities and the comfort that brings.

A carpeted staircase may be luxury for one,

A decked out camper van more sacred for some.

Where are these havens only known by so few,

By stepping inside would we see what is true?

The mould

2009-09-03T22:38:00.018+01:00

Your feathers bear the weight of days

Absorbing the shift and the shuffle

Of the dreams and malaise.

A third of a life captured

In the nest of a mould,

You are plumped and cried into

Cradles for the cold.

Inside your fabric are stories once uttered,

Are scents of the sacred that have all but since fluttered.
Bedtime journeys make up your domain
You steady the course as the mind takes its train.

The receipt

2009-09-02T22:33:00.007+01:00

At 16:07 I was served by Sarah

But something told me those words didn't dare her,

Trapped behind a counter where not even her name

Could make her a memory

Could provide some acclaim.

What a tragedy they are

Those words that receipt

From a noone, a nameless, of whom we don't speak.

The day

2009-09-01T20:44:00.004+01:00

Cometh the storm

To shake up the day

To awaken the sleepers

To forsake the delay.

To counter the continual roll and repeat
To break out and bust

The rhythm of nonchalant feet.

The intact

2009-08-31T22:38:00.004+01:00

Fall and falter

Fade and collapse,

Then take to the wreckage

To find the intact.

The tread

2009-08-30T21:20:00.009+01:00

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

2009-08-24T19:50:00.007+01:00

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

2009-08-23T20:22:00.005+01:00

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

2009-08-20T21:23:00.004+01:00

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

2009-08-20T00:00:00.002+01:00

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

2009-08-18T23:08:00.004+01:00

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

2009-08-17T19:53:00.008+01:00

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

2009-08-16T23:12:00.006+01:00

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

2009-08-15T14:12:00.015+01:00

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

2009-08-14T21:52:00.004+01:00

If the barrage goes on

We will crack in the end,

For without concern or foresight

Life too becomes a passing trend.

The flaws

2009-08-13T23:13:00.005+01:00

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

2009-08-12T23:19:00.006+01:00

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

2009-08-11T20:05:00.006+01:00

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

2009-08-10T23:16:00.003+01:00

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

2009-08-09T23:11:00.004+01:00

Trace it
Break it
Escape it.

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

The imagination

2009-08-08T12:31:00.008+01:00

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

2009-08-07T21:34:00.006+01:00

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

2009-08-06T22:45:00.008+01:00

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

2009-08-05T21:56:00.003+01:00

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

2009-08-04T21:38:00.013+01:00

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

2009-08-03T21:45:00.011+01:00

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

2009-08-02T22:59:00.009+01:00

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

2009-08-01T12:28:00.003+01:00

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.

The confusion

2009-07-31T20:39:00.003+01:00

If it's a stamp of approval don't seek it, if it's a challenge to be met don't greet it, if it's nothing but confusion embrace it, for it will unravel and play in a way that teases and tickles and keeps the clock chasing.

The space

2009-07-30T00:32:00.006+01:00

Where is the quiet of the cave where we make our everyday memorials, where we finally find our silence. If it exists as a space within ourselves is that a space we seek to never find?

The constants

2009-07-28T23:25:00.004+01:00

Some things remain constant amidst a sea of ever changing tides. These constants are the everyday hooks on which to frame adventures, plant the seeds of time, capture the secrets and liberate the threads of endless imaginations.

The shape

2009-07-27T20:15:00.008+01:00

If this is the shape of things to come, the future could make us all square. Unless ofcourse we decide to be oblong. But if there's room for triangles, maybe we'll finally be able to make a point.

The day

2009-07-26T13:02:00.007+01:00

If today is tainted by an ensemble of yesterdays then what can we make of tomorrow that we could not make of today?

The plastic

2009-07-25T20:44:00.007+01:00

Crawling, swirling, surging, hustling, a sea of furrowed brows in an over egged promised land. When the plastic's taken over an already burning town, surely the meltdown has begun.

The circus

2009-07-25T10:26:00.006+01:00

The fuzziness persists, the awakening never comes. Another myriad of forms and features await. They will dazzle and jive in a performance with no interval. Just another part of the incessant, relentless circus.

The reel

2009-07-24T20:52:00.009+01:00

Take them to town and show them the reel but when the spell has broken don't look back forlorn and think that repentance will heal the seams of their souls.

The certainty

2009-07-24T20:11:00.005+01:00

Keep it at bay but do not dare to lock it, for the act in itself will leave it wailing and will free it once more.

The veil

2009-07-23T22:11:00.000+01:00

As the wind ushered its entrance, the veil of melancholy took up its merry dance. Like a swirl of nostalgia that cannot be quashed, it took to the tile and cast its constant shadow.

The something

2009-07-20T22:42:00.001+01:00

If you believe in something believe in nothing, for within nothing is something and only when it is over will everything begin.

The knowledge

2009-07-20T20:40:00.003+01:00

If I knew now what I didn't know then, perhaps I might have known what knowledge was for.

The catalogue

2009-07-20T20:28:00.000+01:00

This is the catalogue of the weak and the wreckless. Of the top downs and bottoms up; of the moving forwards and the pushing backs. This is the gibberish of which they speak. I’ve been inside their abodes. They are havens for the dull and the lifeless. Their spectrum of clichés linger, like litter, across every hall.

The monsters

2009-07-20T19:47:00.001+01:00

I can talk about the insides of these monsters again and again but something tells me exorcism won’t come. They have crept under the surface and the seal is tight. At least until the dreaming begins. Sleep is now the purchase of a nightly ticket showing the pains of the past. The mind is a harrowing hollow, its pain never staying in one spot. How low it will go in its quest for glory and just as I give in and whince, it chortles with glee.

The shrine

2009-07-20T19:40:00.000+01:00

This was the morning altar. The shrine to which only the holy entered in a quest to cleanse their soul. Expressions inside suggested results were slow. Perhaps the only things cleansed were the small ever elusive digits of an online bank account.

The measure

2009-07-20T19:35:00.000+01:00

Everything has a measure. The breaking point for that measure is some form of resistance or catalyst that often comes with no warning or delay. It comes from nowhere, has no source and is like waking up. For the first time.