Somewhere along the way
I picked up a heavy load
of dead wood, a couple of degrees
east of East Tennessee,
a few bottles uncorked,
problem women, and another
woman, a child, and a mortgage,
all while I wandered down the left fork
of the wrong road like the red silt
in a river that has forgotten
its source, but enjoying the scenery,
the journey, and, of course,
the paths I tended to leave
through the high weeds where I lost
myself and my footprints so loud
I could hear them before I left them
on the ground behind me
like hollow dreams trampled down
beneath the feet that I follow.

There is music at dawn in the song of the koyel
The tweeting, the chirping, the warbling,the cry
The medleys that float in the morning air 
As birds sing a welcome to a rising sky 

There is music in the span of feathered  wings 
The steady drone of the humming of a bee
As the sun revels on his throne at noon 
While a brisk wind whisks leaves on willow trees 

There is music in the silver drops of rain 
A gentle drizzle or a thunder squall 
Music in the flow of rivers and streams 
And the sparkling cascade of a waterfall

There is music on slopes of lofty mountains 
In echoes that reverberate of a water spring 
In the soft rustling of a valley of flowers 
Of blue irises and pink hyacinths 

There is music in seas and oceans blue 
Waves overreaching to meet the shore
Rippling in sounds of frothy ecstasy 
Whispers of pearls and ocean floors 

There is music at dusk when the day rests 
The throaty croaks in a nocturnal sheer
As moths flutter drawn to light 
'Tis music of life that I hear

@===#

The arms of the trees
Pluck a banjo for the man
Hid on his knees
His Instrument's fan

Sets the stars a-twinklin'
If you have a chance
Watch the clouds dosey doe
Watch mountains dance

A saguaro he plays on
The spoons and the saw
The wind blows at tune
On harmonica!

Brighter than street lights
Moonbeams cut like a knife
Head like a melon
Larger than Life

Yep... the moon plays a banjo
Orion the fiddle
Owls they play metal string
The cat's in the middle

Playin' the drums
Just as loud as you please
Yep... the moon's playin' banjo
With the arms of the trees!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/18/2016

It starts
deep within
just flames
licking fire
tripping up
my spine
in crackling desire
spreads through my pores
in heated, close beats
releases its high
from my brain
                to my feet
The slow burn
in my solar plexus
spreads in hot surges
waves of wildfire
pulsing in white-hot urges
right down
to where
it really takes off
rushing through my
my cells
never pausing to stop
One can go mad
from that torrid,
thick heat
            every day
so I will trill
into my music
rocking my chair
as I play
feeling the vibes
within the rush and the beats
from the top of my head
to where these velvet
                 thighs meet
like the blazing
mirage of a summer
heat wave
releasing
                  the flow
of all that I crave
close-channeled
energy siphoned
into other spheres
so much like heaven
it squeezes out
                       tears
late desert
         summer nights
naked under
plush covers
my tunes and my pen
are my only lovers
it burns for a while
slides into
ecstatic bloom
and then catapults
back up
in a frantic
heart boom
this is my world
when I am
in charge of my own
            rhythm and tunes
playing them out
like mysterious flumes
this is how my passion
                                  unfolds
when I choose music for a set
I start off contemplative
       and end up wet
So I will take this ink
let it spill upon the page
wield the sword of my
                          slick waters
free my soul
from her cage
like a silky animal
running to cool, shaded brush
I will save up this
passion
so endlessly
              lush

I exist in a
modern
       fortress
of houses &
    cars, stores
around the
corner to buy
      anything
I want &
       the sea
& dark trees
remain
mysteries,
   peripheral
things only
    experienced
in
           dreams
passing
     ships that
sail in to
erase names
& obligations,
      stretch weak
             lungs to
breaking,
reprogramming
genes to flee, 
to tease out the 
         wild seed
    from my
ancestors tree
& in the absence
of jungle
     ignite a fire
from
bits of wire,
     from you
& me
& our ancient
      heartbeat

Ruts in the road
And raging river rapids
And the mountain
So many, so much
Too great a love
Too much the doubt
Too big the obstacles
That I battle with the sky
Because of the clouds

Just to feel better
I let it all go
Only to find
I'm still holding on

Just to feel better I'm still holding on

The past is many days
Now the story is told
And lessons learned
So many, so much
Too great a power
Too bright a truth
Too much is in me
That I learn how to die
To cancel my scars

Just to feel better
I let it all go
Only to find
I'm still holding

Just to feel better I'm still holding on

He’s a material man
On a material planet.
Gobbles up money like a gannet.

Seeking status and promotion,
Upwardly mobile is his motion.
At his side is Madonna’s Girl,
In for a diamond, in for a pearl.

This poor creature has no soul,
Making a fortune his only goal.
Grandeur or Greatness is his God,
For the beauty of Nature he don’t give a sod.

This man doesn’t know what he is missing,
Life’s simple pleasures and Love’s real kissing.

Who really needs all those houses and cars,
Or getting seen in swanky bars?
What’s so fine about a designer label?
We seem to have built our Tower of Babel.

This man will be deaf to these words of mine.
The only mine HE wants, is a glittering Gold Mine.
Humanity divided into Rich and Poor,
Anyone sensible knows the score.

Nations chasing seas of oil,
While back at home the slaves they toil.
Waging wars for piles of money,
Everyone knows it isn’t funny.

Any hope for Material Man?
Unless he changes, he’s down the pan.
Please sir will you open your eyes?
Only Love is loved by the wise.

Paul Butters