23 August 2014


Movement in the right direction didn't 
seem divine insight & flights of fancy 
weren’t always indulgences imagined; 
most delight came in recognising the 
potential perplexity of a flaw’s recipe 

So we invent a regime where change is 
ordinary-and-day-to-day - events don’t 
always sequence, instead a dovetailing 
of uncoordinated dis-contiguity lends a 
constant of unerring credulousness 

That defuses surplus energy we had 
stored for a rainy day - stuff we never 
get to wrestle any normal which-way 
yet still clandestinely debilitates all 
those normality precepts supposed 

We’ll sleep on it, easier’n shearing a 
beast you say, enjoying indifference 
steeped in staid, common parlance 
indoctrinated with someone’s waking 
view of what’s purportedly native wit 

But sleep only dulls the need, or cures 
fugitive belief it hones instincts into an 
insightfully keened rearward view of 
the same old precepts - and they’re 
going nowhere endlessly; so 

Novelty is the cue - an unavoidable
consequence of direction lost in truth 
means any movement bears some 
grace offering better reasons to avoid 
the farce of staying only in one place 

© 14 July 2014, I. D. Carswell