We,
Sat in the shell of an old building,
Where more moments we are still creating,
From those defunct assembly lines,
No longer running,
And fresh perceptions are seen,
In those wreckages, wastes and unoccupied places.
We,
Dawdle in the dust and detritus,
The cracks and smashed glass,
And the literal-heaps of pigeon shit,
The scenic that we can see,
Salvaged and savoured,
In these abandoned spaces.
We,
Media misrepresented,
Mainly here to see,
The broken pieces of industrial redundancies,
Found as our adventure playground,
The hollow out burnt out,
See-through skeleton of a structure,
Through younger eyes,
Visions of an underground man,
Underdogs, up-dog party animals,
The other box-tickers
Anti-social solitude seekers,
Artists as a portrait of civil disobedience.
We,
Have fun far from madding crowds,
Out for the nights of our lives,
Your Big Brother left at home,
To baby-sit a reality,
We're beyond what television screens,
Head torches lighting the darker corners.
From blue stone-tunnel balloon shapes.
Down canal-scapes.
We,
The best of friends,
Starring in the strangest of stories,
Underneath a radar,
Radiating, fire working,
Beer drinking, air-guitaring,
Amateur photographing,
Suit wearing, award winning,
Man-hole popping
The boldly-going,
Urban exploring,
Organisation.
Re-contextualising the textures,
Of a breeze on your face,
Up a construction crane scaffold,
Up ladders looking down,
On a dock-lands light-up like Christmas trees,
Finders of beauty,
As few else in society,
Take opportunities,
Or the risk-daring to go see,
We the discontented,
In curious phrasing.
Seeking,
For a greater depth down,
Found the unique,
Obscure,
Alternative,
Above-and-below-all the adventurous therein.
We,
Know an all-nighter,
In a convoy of cars,
Parking lots by torch lights,
Huddling over street-directories on car roofs,
Concrete slants covered in wet footprints,
Worming our way down side pipes,
To grill rooms and gutter boxes,
And finally the exit holes.
Wanting it all,
We go get it,
Climb over it,
Dig under it,
Hide out in it, Pass out in it,
Get caught in it,
Then make a run for it.
We go a culture-shocking,
For some real-life capers,
Strange Saturday sagas,
All another way,
To take what matters,
Into our own hands.
Looking at society's strictures,
Those unimaginative not-so-grand plans,
And from that limited brief,
We've chosen to expand,
Because we,
Are the Cave Clan.
________________________________________________
Miss you guys.
-Peace
No comments:
Post a Comment