Last night I was shivering
I owned sorrow as mine
You came forward filling the night
Within unseen kisses and hugs

The silence mocked
The pain knocked
What seemed so right turned wrong
What has provoked slowly revoked

You once told me to be brave
Just to obey what has taught me
And what has ruled and created me
I'm no one to be, no one to be

Darling, I've seen tiredness in your eyes
And the hiding grim behind your smiles
Let me wound the sadness for you
So will I weep the scars that gnaw you

We afford too much sore to cope
And wandering too much for home
We've forgotten, we've been untold
That we have each other to hold.

My love, we should've known to whom we belong.

Feb, 12 2016.
09:51 pm
I'm quite insane.

When I see you thus in tears, dearest,
I place myself in the context of everything
that had happened in the history of existence
and everything
that is yet to happen in the millenniums to come,
as the stars, the sun, the planets and the earth
swift-sail down the Milky Way,
on their journey to some mysterious destination.

I place myself in that context
and curl
into this moment and vanish
along the umbilical cord linking our heartbeats
into the throb of your pulse,
the taste of the salt on your cheeks,
and the pain of the little toe,
you have just now stubbed,
against this sharp stone
by the wayside.

I dreamt one night of my mother gently moving the clasp of a shimmering necklace back round to my spine and
Bringing the charm once more to center in the middle of my chest
This act, this scene, caught something within her
Perhaps it was her reflection in the chaon links which pleased the poet  
Perhaps she got a flash of memory, a moment of pure nostalgia--
Anyhow, "why" matters not
Only that she smiled and felt inclined to say
"someone special has been keeping you in their thoughts"
(As if something so shallow were worthy of swooning)
Instead of smiling I laughed in her face cruelly
I pondered the absurd tales of love
Love, as sung by the unhappy ladies in the church choir
Love, painted by Poe as tragedy and death, as something leading to doom
Love, felt by shy children in the neighborhood, kept alive so long as giggles and scraped knees remained
Love, church, husband wives and babies, happy home and all the comforts, jewelry boxes brimming with diamond rings and necklaces
I laugh at the belief of a god who allows himself to be held hostage in the mind of a man
As if I would feel honored to be thought of by anyone, as if I felt I needed this god or this man to know me and to love me
As if love could ever be so important

Always do one more push-up,
always go one more round.
Never give up.
Don't let this world get you down.

Always do one more crunch,
always go one more mile.
Never give up.
Don't ever lose your smile.

Dawdlely-dee, no work for me!
Fell from a roof, and broke a knee!

Skiddlely-dee, skiddlely-da
Nothing to do, I guess I'll draw.

Tweedely-dee, tweedely-dumb
Brother Jimmy, called me a ***!

                         "**-hum, to you!
                         **** on my shoe!"

Fiddlely-dee, can’t blame Jimmy—
He’s always looking out for me.

So you would conquer the world.
Do what Napoleon and ****** tried to do.
Take all our lands
And submit them to your Law.

But can’t you see?
You’ll never win their hearts.
Some will passively resist you,
Whatever that is.
And others will welcome you with open arms
Whilst waiting for the chance to strike.

Worse still
Your very own “folk”
Will grow green with envy
And plot and scheme
To bring you down.

The higher you get
The nearer that precipice you creep
And the greater your fall.

The bigger you are
The easier target you become.

Paranoia will annoy you,
But traitors will do worse.

Take my advice, my friend
And stay within your patch.
Have no “retreats from Moscow”
On your CV.
Better to win hearts and minds
By making sure
That you are truly Good.

Paul Butters