Nana's house is on the market,
Perfect location beside the woods,
And a few hundred feet from the water.
I can hear the patter of feet,
The closing of doors,
The squealing of feral animals
Nana fed with peanuts,
The condo bird houses
And broken blue eggs.
The cries and sirens and confusion.
When Nana died,
She was sealed in the wall of a mausoleum,
But continues to escape
In the eeriest of ways.

You bought the dawn paying such a high price,
Spending the darkness like fake money,

Saving up your hopes like a hoarder;
Looking for someone else to bring your joy

Wading through the denseness to you.
Throw open the windows, the doors;

The light was out there, waiting, all along
For your open eyes.

The rain streaks the window pane
heavy and thick,
falls as a burden upon ears
aching to hear the turn of a key in the lock,
the scrape of leather on the wooden slats of a porch.
Its silver slick shine reflects the stillness.
Damp musty odors rise from the earth
where undisturbed it waits for footsteps
belonging to one who bears the rays of hope and life,
the very sun itself in heart and soul.
And so, time passes....

How many times at this cliff, wild with winds
waiting for direction, even though storm clouds come
I look beyond, remembering the halcyon days
but today - rain, rain, rain

Lighted sentries stand guard
Over slickened steel rails

Rails that reach into the painted skyline
Traversing life's trail to the clickety-clack of time

Time's learn-ed history passes by
Enlightening life's travelers at every bend.

Gliding through this timeless labyrinth
My sight can't pierce so thick a mist.
Alone in my vessel,
just drifting clumsily...
Anxiety wrung raw in these cold, clammy fists.

All is quiet...
save for the faint sloshing against my tired hull.
I quietened my breath...
Such peace exists now in my vessel.
Slapping gently against my side,
invisible ripples came to lull.

I cannot see what lays ahead...
I do not know of my ultimate destination...
I am alone in my vessel...
Drifting along this watery bed.
Awaiting nothing...
but elusive answers to pointless questions.

I cannot fathom what lies above
the canopy that shields me.
I'd imagine the stars...
Twinkling in codes,
whispering the secrets of the universe.
Unheard to those who will not see.

I'd imagine the ripe new moon...
Beaming down ostentatiously.
Bestowing light upon those who'd croon...
Those who'd shamelessly bask in her majesty.

But many...
Just remain in the darkness.
Submitting to the will of the currents,
getting lost in the odd calmness...
And it's ambiguous resplendence.

Looking around I realise that I'm now not alone...
There are many vessels...
Quiet silhouettes navigating boats of their own.
We all bear the same flag but our own demons we wrestle.

Overwhelming relief...
To see others by my side.
I am now alone with so many others...
In this lonesome boatride.

If only
   We could close our eyes
And click a switch
   And wake up in another world

A world where happiness is the only currency
   And hope is as abundant as the air we breathe

A world where a good word is precious as gold
   And a smile is worth a thousand words

A world without senseless suffering
   Where life is a precious commodity
      And all life is in sync

Obviously
   A world far
      Far away
         From this one

But dreams are dreams
   And wishes are wishes
      So I'll just let them be

I'll close my eyes
   just one more time
And click the switch
   And one day there I'll be...

This evening, with the wind
of my curtains breathing, I listen for night birds
watch the room grow pale
the finality of day, a nightly ritual
how skies reconstruct themselves over again
twinkle and murmur of stars
cynosure of all planets, even unseen
clouds like amnesia, hide things
our earthbound slipping away
of days lost irretrievable

He peeps through the looking glass of life.
Emotionally detached, a social recluse.
Avoid eye contact.
Avoid eye contact.
Don't dare look at me!
That's right you've seen him!
But.... Have you actually seen him?
Or is he just a figment of your imagination?
For he's the stalker.
Lurking about in the shadows.
Spying on you from afar through those holes in the wall.
A human CCTV system looking you up and down when you least expect it.
Recording your every move in the memory bank.
Voyeuristic tendencies with the inability to openly admit he's one step away from the psychiatric ward.

You could cut the air
With a knife, it was just that thick
It had me chewing my nails
Gnawing them to the quick

I plan for the worst
But I hope for the best
Born to create
I take my imagination
and put it to the test

They say that a bad attitude
Is like a flat tire
You have to change it
If you are going to get very far
Free will
Choose the things you choose
But you can't go pinning all
Your hopes on some far away star

As Life goes, and go it does
I hold on tight and put my past in the dust
I have come face to face with my demons
and lived to tell the tale
I was backed right up against the wall
but my morality is in tact...
'' This cat's not for sale''.

I'm alive for two reasons
yeah, it's come down to that
Reason number one is I was born
And number two well, I didn't die yet.
I am no go between it has come down to that
I can't deliver something I never had
Although sometimes I have to give my head a shake
And always remember to give a sucker an even break.

Our scientists say that before The Big Bang
There was Nothing
And therefore
No God.

Through red-shifted space they “see”
Back to The Beginning.
Exploding Singularity.
A photon winks into existence
And BOOM.

Yes they are conceited enough to think
That all we see is all there is to know.
Like people pre-Pythagoras
Who thought the Earth was flat
They Lord it
With Confidence.

Yet Eternal Infinity
Beckons us on.

A light year is 5,878,499,810,000 miles.
An estimated 81,000 years Ion-Drive flight to the nearest star.
About 100 thousand million galaxies in the universe:
70 thousand million million million stars.
But we know it all.

Some say our universe is a bubble
Growing within another
Like a baby in a womb.

Some say it will grow forever,
Slowly petering out
‘Til all is cold.
Others that it will stop, shrink
Implode
Then be reborn
With another Big Bang.

Who knows what will happen?
Not me.

Paul Butters

*** is a four letter word
Flaunted by very bad vowels
Fevered to ecstacy
By tangled adjectives
And pounded
Into submission
By perverted nouns
That take their free liberty
Of the subjective
Once surrounded by
Iniquity of the parenthesis
You will only utter commas
In Benediction