Seek out
Stillness, so so quiet
A place to rest
Where minds
Might jest in play
Seek out
Air, falling water
A solstice of life
Where strife
Might wish to meet you
Seek out
The little differences
Movements of waveforms
Where the faster beats
Might storm your velocity
I walked by a river
I hoped to see a narrowboat
It was wide water
With a ten-mile bank
Beside a busy road
I thought it would be pleasant
To drift through sparkling waves
It could be our best present
For me and you
In our quieter days
I hear the warm wind blowing
From Cold Harbour Farm
Across the railroad tracks
I hear the train then going
Turn to see who have turned their backs
It is about travel
We journey here
We journey there
Always on the move
It is about experience
A taste, a smell
A sound, an image
Always then on the lookout
It is about edges
The edge of legality
The edge of minds
Always we are pushing
As much about
What we see within
As what we see without
Always thus a legacy
I have been to New York
Also flown KLM to Amsterdam
I have seen Claude Monet’s Lilies
Also squared up the Piet Mondrian
I have had the stronger coffee
Also the pancake and the flan
I have beamed with sophistication
Also wandered; off-piste, off plan
I have handled crumpled banknotes
Also dope, weighed in by the gramme
I have leaned on the many bridges
Also travelled for free on the city tram
I have been your happy companion
Also spent time, simply as I am
I have dreamed of Outlook’s many colours
Also read street maps, as just the best I can
Byzantium, Byzantium, Byzantium
If only you knew
Either of you
If either of you knew
Of Byzantium
Our eyes are not amused
On the day of the news
Her death, her death, her death
To choose, or lose all hope, or cruise by
Byzantium
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With a rectangle and a square
The edifice was constructed
With a line and a shadow
The construction was decorated
We stand back, try to gain perspective
We close in, try to observe detail
The words are in the mother tongue
Yet we extract: A Nations History
The message was not a natural given
It is embellishment, in a place
Out of place with its surroundings
A design shipped by bankrupt people
Just as trees, without forestation
Become cluttered; they restrict
Light, and view, and growth
As do the odd buildings of the city
A church clock chimes
Ringing ears, we continue
Our time is strewn
Only a few hours more
Yet here and now
A quiet indulgence
Sunlight; so strong
As to make a shadow
Where lead and paper meet
Away from the streets
And bars, and cars
And non-delayed gratification
From the station by
The canal, from the
Incident offered by chance
To the romance
Of beginning over
Yes, beginning again
There is both noise and dullness, brought on by the previous evening’s excess, yet almost for certain there will be no redress, for tonight, without doubt, the celebrations will continue.
Around midday, especially if the sun shines, the haze within me will begin to fade, clarity and a desire for joy will return, to both mind and body, in more or less that is, in approximately equal measure.
The treasure of this cycle is the entire collapse of willpower; without thought of recrimination we seek out a temporary elation, to chase out the long lasting doubts of a too too singular, too too restricted vision.
There is little choice, less even of weighted decision, neither either is there derision, for mostly we are in this thing together, taking onboard our fair share of the simple man’s pleasure in finding absence.
The child in the man
Learnt behaviour
Earned
Without the need to cram
Always to believe
You are the one who can
Relieved
Of doubt you stand
By the side
Of the younger man
With enthusiasm
For rigor mortis
I can take pleasure in the walking, imagine myself easily as a Flaneur, either when window shopping, museum browsing, or in the park, beside the ducks on settled water.
Absentmindedly I forgot to observe the bicycles, or the traffic-lights. My momentary imperious privilege was to wander freely, with good posture and deportment; yes always in the finest shoes.
Yet also in the city I am able to fine-tune my movement; I nip, and tuck, and skip with the certainty of a mind and body, synchronised by the good food, the fresh air, and the most healthy outlook.
Woken by the chatter
A slit to the window
Spoken words natter
Spilt from one to one
Park and city
Field of countryside
Names and faces
Lifelines to collide
Beauty; in the beautiful
Artists and collectors
We are humans, dancers
Open to the answers
With youth, and mature
Immaturity
Of social gatherings
We feel that life is passed on