Your soul is shaken by the turbulent seas
A ship unsuited for the journey
You dream of sleep in safe harbor
Salt water washes your tears.

Without a course you drift
Upon the waves
The last drop of fresh water
Has moistened your lips

Seeking the guidance of the stars
You gaze upon the skies
Dark clouds obscure your view
And send you to the maelstrom.

In the darkest of the muddy night
A ray of light stirs your soul
The clouds have parted
And Polaris appears.

With hope abandoned
You glide toward the light
Blind faith fills your sails
And leaves the storm in your wake.

Fatigue and failure grip your spirit
You are overtaken with sleep
Your nightmares are quiet
And you float peaceful like a gull.

Was it the light or the heat
That stirred you at dawn?
Calm. Steady. Warm.
A harbor safe from the sea.

That faulty compass at your feet
It was so foolish to trust
Tossed overboard, it disappears
Quietly like your past.

If God exists
He or She knows All
Is Everywhere
And Everywhen
And lives beyond
Space and Time.
For so it is to be a God.

She is far too great
To concern herself
With this grain of sand
Lost in the vastness of our Multiverse.

Our words can’t hurt Her,
Maybe make Her smile at most,
Even as we take Her name in vain.
Our petty squabbles
Are but fights
Amongst the ants.

She Loves all Life,
Though some be sacrificed at times
For the Greater Good.

I ask you all
To open your mind
And see us through Her eyes.
She cannot want us
To martyr ourselves
Or **** those who are different
In race or creed.

She will not give us Heaven
If we sacrifice our lives
To **** Her creatures
That she made
With such magnificent grace.

Above all else She is a Loving God,
Cherishing ALL that Lives.
Forget the ancient histories
Of warring and strife.
NOW is where we are,
And now is the Time
For Love.

Paul Butters

She lives with
The ghosts of yesterday,
Reliving painful memories
Like a sadistic
Groundhog day.
The awful irony
Of taking care
Of her body all these years,
When her mind was
Planning a revolt.
Is she still in there,
The woman I used to know,
Struggling to get out?
Screaming at the injustice
Of her situation?
Banging on the bars
Of her rotting mind?
The very thought
That could be true
Is the saddest thing
Of all.

A merry, mirthful clown,
I came upon a town
Where the stench of despair
Hung heavy in the air
And the ghosts within the town
Wandered aimlessly around
******* dry the joy of others
Delivered with the kiss of lovers.
No laughter can be heard
Or the trilling of the birds,
Only the silence of the tomb
In this ugly, poisonous womb,
Giving birth to fear and sorrow
With no hope of a tomorrow,
Spreading illness and infection
Eradicating all affection.
And though I long to leave,
I am granted no reprieve.
A sad and lonely clown
I cannot leave this town.

A sea
Of nameless faces
Garbed in grey
Wired to monotony,
Like a flock
Flying in one direction,
But never toward the sun.
Painted smiles
On plastic faces
A homogenous race
Of uniformity.
Vacant expressions
And abandoned thoughts.
Then there is you.
Strut my little peacock.
Strut.

The apple tree
Bore rotten fruit
And blamed it
On the garden
Refusing to
Acknowledge
That her
Shallow roots
Could also
Be at fault