our bread and butter...
     the web of stars,
     the scatter of moons
     and orbiting planets.
the entire universe
harvested and crammed
into the metre,
of a poetic verse.

our bread and butter...
     harnessing the regal rays of the sun.
     inflating the fluff of quiet clouds.
     drinking up the winds of the weather.
     revering the magic in the flight of birds.
we fill our cups to the brim...
with fantastical dreams
and let spill
over parchment
the cornucopia of idealised words.

our bread and butter...
the incessant peeling and picking
on healing wounds.
of which we have learnt to savour...
     let bleed
     the willing blood...
     feed the seeds
     with impending flood.
nurture to fruition
thoughts stunted in discretion.
bring to light
thoughts hidden in the nether.

our bread and butter...
we dip...
the nibs,
of our word worn feathers.
let them sink,
shallow beneath the surface
to the sanctity of a familiar place.
     *casting our trials,
     and tribulations...
     pent up emotions,
     and what we think
     unto paper
     with the burn of
     everlasting ink.

A metaphor, the ultimate actor.
Let’s mix it into a Whisky blend.
To rhyme or not to rhyme,
That is the question.
Let’s go for no.
That metaphor –
A fusion of words and meanings.
Compound image.
Subtle synthesis of correlations coalesced.
Marriage of minds.
Beyond comparison.

The poet, weaver of words,
Composing symphonies
Of spoken sounds.
Mixing metaphors:
Chemical brews
Of nectar,
For all to savour
In the theatre
Of the written page.

Paul Butters

I get some kids need to get pushed to get good grades
or do to better in life

but they pushing us in the 6th grade for collage
a freshman in high school is made to choice a career

a senior in high school has to do a project on there career
and if they don't do it
they cant graduate

some kids are different then others
and its not normal to do this to kids

sometimes we get pushed to hard

There is no need for all this strife,
All that’s required is Love of Life.
Religions and philosophies all seek Good,
Trying to get us out of this wood.
All you need is Love, The Beatles said,
So let’s put Evil and Hatred to bed.

Christian, Muslim or worshipping Buddha,
Atheist, Humanist, Taoist, Shinto, Hindu, Wiccan or any other,
It doesn’t matter for you are my Brother.
We’re all the same in God’s loving eyes
(Whether you believe or not)
From mighty whales to tiny flies.

Tigers bite and wasps do sting,
But each of them is a black and gold thing.
Life is precious in every form,
We all get beaten by that storm.

Give us a wormhole and we will find
Countless exoplanets that’ll blow your mind.
In the swathe of the universe we are but a speck,
Prepare yourself for an endless Star Trek.

But first we need to put our own Earth right,
And now it’s such a sorry sight.
Having technology is all very well
If all you can make is our version of Hell.
The human mind is far behind I hate to say,
We have to find the Loving Way.

Paul Butters

© PB 25\8\2015.

Dumbrowski was a 6 foot 5 giant
from some hell hole mining town
somewhere south of Pittsburgh.
All sinew and bulging muscle
he looked like a painting
of the perfect, invincible warrior.
Perhaps he heard the incoming
whistle of his private RPG.
He opened his arms as if
to welcome its deadly embrace.
I was circling low overhead
in the waiting medevac chopper.
The round took him directly in the chest.
Every part of him took off
in hilarious random directions.
Arms went east and west. Head skyward.
Legs and boots travelled south.
His entire thorax just vanished.
Blood, brains and skin
splattered everyone nearby.
Later we picked up the pieces
and bagged them for his ride home;
the torn shreds of a man who had been
human one minute and meat on the ground
just a few minutes later.
Invincibility is clearly relative.

suppose you aren't assured of the next meal
upon your head rules the sky
maggots are feeding on your free will
better seems the option to die.

suppose you've none to give company
not a soul to call your own
days seem to crawl with no hurry
nights only make you more alone.

suppose open road is where you stay
sometimes a tree to beat the sun
people are bent on moving away
you've no home for day-end run.

suppose you've nothing called privacy
can't afford the luxury of shame
you relieve yourself for all to see
don't recall if you ever had a name.

suppose you've to scavenge from dustbin
your dignity is trampled like road's dirt
could they all make you feel a poem within
write a line crystalline in your heart?

Some months ago a partnership was initiated
With our individual verbiages for you being instigated
All care is taken when composing as a duet
As we aspire to put upon the paper our appealing minuet

While she takes the high road and I take the low
We often meet in the middle of the poetic flow
Bringing together both of our wits
More often a hit than ever a miss

Keeping on track calls for a unified side
To stray from this course our poem would be a disjointed ride
Every now and again we check what's been noted for the crew
As we'd not be satisfied with a misconstrued brew

With topics covered to numerous to mention
All of them our potted clay of invention
We can celebrate what we've placed in our cooking pan
Even though our muse didn't give out her recipe plan

So with a little of this and a whole lot of that
We mix it together for the perfect batch
There's no need to over cook as it's already done
The way that we look at it as all in great fun

Being too serious isn't of our writing tag
We just stow wit and wisdom into a bag
If by fortune we get the arrangement this side of right
Our vocabulary combo may be of your delight

With the poem to our taste we raise our glass high
Using just the right words just the way that we like
No need to ferment this tender bouquet
We send it right out with the feeling it's perfectly aged

Daily upon the screen
I seeith young men
Sent off to war;
As tis I seeith the greedy men
Getting rich from them
As tis I thinkest,
What for?



CONTROL.......



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

Shoulder to shoulder
These young men,
Boys,
Stood for the rights of all,
Thumbing their noses
At the iron fist that crushed
Their people's heart,
Giving voice
To those rendered mute
And heart
To those without hope.
Shoulder to shoulder
These young men,
Boys,
Stood while bullets ripped
And cannons bellowed
Until they could stand no more,
The word surrender
Unheard and unspoken.
Shoulder to shoulder
These young men,
Boys,
Lay at peace.
They lit a spark
That ignited a revolution
And the dreams of giants
Were realized
With the sacrifice of
These young men,
Boys,
Legends.

the darkness broods,
shadows thicken,

clouds drift into the
darkest recesses of night,  

their blue-black inks
singing of lonely shores

and watery streams.