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A reticent fox slinks by beneath
the trees

that still have leaves
conversing for now

the change in colors
sleeps still, unannounced

the rain smells of ploughed earth
& freshly hung-out clouds

& wellington boots
Autumn's child cries it's first word

& inside a low-lit pub
a crisp old cider's poured

September's dreams
fermenting
Dark is the insight of love
Not light that devours each night
Spawning the play of day
But evening shades
Layers of grey
Turning to black
It’s cool and welcoming
Quiet and beautiful
It’s expansive
Frightening
A vexing void
And every variation in between
These two similar things
I know a girl who writes
The same poem over and over again
A dark hearted artist
Sultry mistress
Who dismisses
All other lovers
But her pain

However
She plays it so clever
That I can’t help but love her
And read all the variations
Of the poem over and over again
Why is there a little boy lying on the beach?
Washed up.
Lifeless.
All for a new life too far to reach?

Why is there a little boy lying on the beach?
Terrorists
Heartless.
What happened to the human rights we all preach?

Why is there a little boy lying on the beach?
Traffickers.
Gangs.
Displacing people no home and no speech.

Why is there a little boy lying on the beach?
A son.
No future.
We hang our heads and weep!
Broken hearted and deeply affected by pictures I saw in the news depicting the lifeless body of a little boy no older than three who was photographed washed up on the shore line of Turkey. The result of further illegal human smuggling, people trafficking promising to get families to Europe on a false promise. All too often, people are put into small boats unable to sustain the weight of all the people put upon it and not fit for purpose. This is yet another shocking event in the wake of atrocities taking place in North Africa where the displacement of millions of innocent people continues. Governments are too busy counting the pennies and quarrelling amongst themselves in addition to wasting precious time as gangs and smugglers take advantage of the situation by sending people to their death profiting from the desperation of families searching for a place to call home. When will this end? RIP to the little boy, his brother and mother who all perished.
Why am I here?
What is the Purpose of Life?
What is Good?
What should I Value?
Is there a God?
An Afterlife?
So many times I’ve asked these things.

Aristotle, Confucius, The Buddha….
All lived long before Christ
And asked the same.
What is Good…?
Who Knows?

So all we can do
My friends
Is go with our gut.
Just Do It!
Love and revere All Life,
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you –
A cliché I know…
Be empathic and compassionate.
Be a Humanist Plus.
Call it a “Lifist” if you will.

Use your talents to the full
Nay Grow Them.
Do not bury them in the soil.
Have Aspiration, ambition
And Achieve.

Forget about money
And celebrity.
Be honest in your labours.
Work always for The Common Good.

Promote your Wellbeing and your Health.
Give Education where you can.
Build bridges over all divides.
And never forget,
We are The Human Team.

Paul Butters
Another "Thinking" poem!
Even the bones
she throws clenched
he thanks her for...
I put my trembling

hand in hers

when I was four

and twenty years

now twenty more

are come and gone

and yet my trembling

carries on

for different reasons

though I don't

remember when

those reasons changed

and all I have

is foolish hope

that one day they may

change again ....
I've been
up and down lately,
well..
more than lately,
kinda jumpy too 
Y'know...
Figure if I jump high enough
with the earth spinning beneath me
the way it does
I'll see it all
for free...
Mostly I jump
waiting the next bus
on cemetery hill,
up and down and up again
watching burials
intermittently
over the wall,
my now you see me-
now you don't appearances
are part of the mourning process
in Selly Oak these days;
leaving folk in holes
with dirt on their faces,
their chests
and their feet
frightens me,
seems gravity's got
a hold on them
forever now,
so I'm glad for
the days when smoke
stacks exhale
and the wind
is filled with people,
I feel the bounce
in my sole remembered
and I know
sooner or later
I too will catch an updraft
and fly....
I've been
up and down lately..
well..    
more than lately
I've been kinda jumpy too
Y'know ?
Moonbeams tread softly

on shining wire   

death waits

haunting shadow

hoping for cloud

and an unfortunate sole

to step forward..
Is this as good as it gets?   'cause
I'm feeling a little bit tricked,
I'm feeling a little bit foolish like
my dream's had it's pockets picked,
I've been waiting to see
if the hands of Fate
have slipped me a hand
that's not mine,
but it's getting late
and while I've been waiting
she's robbed me of all of my time,
my time,
Fate's robbing me all of the time..
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