Life clings on
In deserts, ice sheets and hot acid pools.
Those selfish genes persist:
Batons in a Marathon relay race.
Generation follows generation.
Clone adds to clone.

So life spreads:
The mightiest empire,
Covering all the globe.
A world full of living wonders.
All manner of plants, insects and animals.
Oceans teeming with fish.
From tropical paradise
To awesome glaciers.

We must be mindful
Of this glorious beauty.
Mother Nature reigns supreme.
Sing and rejoice,
Party hard
And put aside
The awful truth -
That in the end
Everyone dies.

Paul Butters

© PB 26\7\2018.

If you put a frog
In a *** of boiling water
It will jump out
Right away

But if you put the frog
In cool water
And slowly
Turn up the heat
It will stay there
Until it dies

That's an abusive relationship

I write because—
A sudden pause.
Why do you write?
There is a reason to it right?

"For pain!" they might say,
"For fame!" cries another.
"For glory!" they might argue
"For defeat." some would bother.

Why do you write?
A student giggled, "For class to be dismissed."
"Oh because you exist." A romantic chanted.

The metaphors you paint vividly,
letters and punctuations you bring closer.
What urges you to bring into existence,
Works of art from bleeding hearts.

Why do you really write?

because I feel, yet they tell me I am numb
because I learn, yet they show me I am dumb
They tell me I should change my mind,
As I am only wasting my time.

I write because...
there's a thousand reasons that I shouldn't but a million more that tells me I should.

the world is there,I
am here—
a puzzle-piece which doesn't
fit anywhere

I read a book once
it said— "To get ahead in life,you gotta break some eggs."
so I did

I cut my edges to take a different shape
to fit in a certain set
it hurt, but I wanted to get ahead
and so I broke some eggs

I fit in, slid in like I was
not a separate piece but
a part of the whole from
the very beginning

yet only then did I notice
that I was of a different colour
than the rest of the pieces

so I was kicked out
but I wasn't gonna give up

I plunged myself in
a paint can—
and assumed a different colour
I broke some eggs

I fit in perfectly
yet only then did I realize
that I was made
of a different material
than all the rest

I was kicked out
cut, drenched in alienness
wet, by the roadside gutter

only then did I see
a puzzle set
of the colour
of my hidden flesh
of the material
of my own bones
with a missing piece— the shape
of my old self

yet I was alien to them
to the whole world
to me

I broke myself