MARC CARVER - POEMS

​Marc Carver writes because he has nothing else to do.

​LIFE

​It is the test that I just can't solve 
like a man trying  to finish a Rubik's cube with no hands,
It is unsolvable 
just when you think you understand something 
it turns out you really knew nothing at all 
so why do people go on 
wailing and thrashing through time 
the faster they go the faster time goes and then 
bang it is finished and you lay there waiting for the death breathe to come 
in fear for what you have never seen 
at least most people haven't 
how could they 
they are too busy 
making money 
selling product 
they don't sit down and try and solve what it is they are really doing
they don't have faith that the wind can take you where you need to be to go
only then will you see like me that it cannot be solved but it can be what it is meant to be

THE TEST

​I took a long look at myself in the toilet mirror 
still not sure what I was, you think I would know after all these years 
I walked out of the toilet and saw five pound drop to the floor 
so I picked it up and kept shouting. "Mate, mate." but he kept walking.
I ran after him caught up with him and told him he had dropped it 
As I walked back the man with his child told me I had done an honourable thing but if he wasn't there 
I may have put it in my pocket and walked off 
but still I wanted to go back to that mirror and say 
"You see I am a good person after all." 
Maybe the mirror gave me the test 
I don't know I am beginning to think 
it is all a test.

​GORMLEY

​As I drive up the road 
I see a man on a flat roof 
he is like one of those Gormley statures. 
He is perfectly still 
as he looks out into the distance he does not move at all 
could almost be dead 
it is like he is looking at this land for the first time 
like 
it never existed before he got up on that roof 
and now he doesn't want to come down 
so 
he is turned to stone 
When I drive past later 
I will see if he is still there looking for something that he will never find.

​THE ARCHITECT

​There is no feeling 
like the feeling you get when you wake up at four in the morning 
and know you are the only one alive 
the deadness 
the stillness 
you could almost be dead yourself and not know it.
You start to think with a clarity that has alluded you your whole life 
no doubts 
nothing to hold you back 
and suddenly you want to build 
brick after brick those words that speak out from the darkness 
tell stories that no one will ever hear 
but they shout out of the silence like alarm bells warn the sailors of the rocks that lurk underneath. 
So you piece them together 
and you know you are making something you don't know or need to know what it is you only find out when you finish 
then you can stand back and see what it is 
as if you knew before you started 
then you look and know and see what it is 
and for once you know what it is

​The inner voice

​I like the language that is in my brain
thoughts that seem so pure they could almost come from the sun or from an angel.
Sometimes I can almost speak them 
get close to them that pure language
but you have to have an audience that wants to hear them.
That wants love
that wants something else.
The way you sometimes hear people on a stage they find it
the thoughts that can be spoken 
and time stands still as people understand they have found something that is not of this world.
It is why I spend so much time there now
my thoughts are my best friend

A MILKING

​For some strange reason I thought a of asking a woman if she would milk me 
"I beg your pardon."
"You see I need milking even more than a friend. Friends are hard to find at my time of life."
"Did you say you want me to milk you."
"Well you only have to say no if you want, after al,l I only thought I would give it a try. She walked off shaking her head.