Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead tide alone in the hearse.
It is June. I am tired of being brave.

We drive to the Cape. I cultivate
myself where the sun gutters from the sky,
where the sea swings in like an iron gate
and we touch. In another country people die.

My darling, the wind falls in like stones
from the whitehearted water and when we touch
we enter touch entirely. No one's alone.
Men **** for this, or for as much.

And what of the dead? They lie without shoes
in their stone boats. They are more like stone
than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse
to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.

To me a poem is a Statement, even a Speech.
So, Friends, Britons and countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Britain, not to praise it.
The evils that empires do live long after them.
Colonial wrongs seem never put to right.
Achievements hidden away in dusty books
By historians, all honourable men (and women!).
Yet historians say the Brits were too ambitious
And too self-righteous by half.
For historians are honourable men (and women).
They say we must accept that we’re a tiny island nation
And accept our place in the world.
Yes, historians are honourable men (and women).
They say we were too ambitious.
But now, the world is threatened by dark forces,
And only the winner takes the spoils (and writes the history!).
Once more unto the breach us Brits must go,
To fight like tigers
And smite the foe.

Paul Butters

I dreamt of you again last night, I've felt
more of your kisses in my dreams than
in real life.
Does that make them any less real?

I’ve got my dad’s heavy silence.

My moms daggered heart.

I’m a bit unattainable, but you

can find me in my art.

I find the pit in my stomach
and the tears running down my face.
I feel the tearing of my heart
and the pressure on my soul.

If only I could find a way
to paint a happy girl.
Then I could paint that ******* me
and become the thing you desire.

Instead I find the darkest pit
and fall in to it's comforting blanket.
To show myself the darkest corners
and wish for just a match.

To fall is to be alone and jump
without you there to pull me back.
I can't show you my blackened soul
unless you understand the consequence.

If you are having a bad day
Full of problems, trouble and strife
Do not let it in any way
Make you think you have a bad life!