when you start with a heart made from rock
its going to take some time
to soften it with compassion
but in the end, Granite is no match for love.

eternity opens between each heartbeat
for a fleeting moment you were dead
and yet you still live. and it didn't hurt
a bit. That heartbeat is poetry and the
silence hangs in the air, you live despite
yourself, on the journey, on the road
even when only your heart thumps
the sound of the drum, ancient dance,
thunder in your chest, a lightening strike,
love, ah love, now that's worth dying for.

steam engine white clouds
i
hear a symphony
sing out loud
and
the
mystical wind
break every storm cloud
and
turn
gray ghosts
Into
mortal men
when
the
clouds whisper
to me again

Do you still remember: the flyer flies?
And the harmonic liturgical chant of the invisible crickets
Outside our window: oh how they soothe
us to sleep : an added plus to the sound of the falling rain
of all our wishes, did we meant to leave the
tropical sound for the deafen sound of gun fire ,sirens,
or burning tires of city life, startling's hearts everywhere;
almost every hour upon hours of restless sleep

awaken to the swift sound of chirping, squeaking engine
my heart longs for those crickets outside my window
as they hide beneath the tall wet grass,
I remember how I slept between darkness and dawn
Remembering happiness comes from contentment:

soft the raindrops on my face
gentle the breeze at my back
warm the sand between my toes

soft the words you speak
gentle your lips upon my neck
warm your body next to mine


soft the sound of you sleeping
gentle my fingers upon your cheek
warm the tears that fall  on the sheets

soft the closing of the door
gentle the footseps as i leave
warm the regret that burdens my soul

warm the first steps to hell
gentle the push off the cliff
soft the mud in the gutter

I still remember the day I died
And swam away from sanity's shore
Though the ghost of me still feels alive
I'm the only one here who knows

I still keep an eye on the gone side of life
With my family and my friends
Though no one knows when I come and go
Or that I am still here

One day I may communicate
As yet I don't know how
So I just sit here with them, alone in me
That's all so far that I can do now

I've heard there's a light that can set me free
But I'm afraid that I can't come back
And I do enjoy their company
Happy with where I am at

A ghost that knows no other
Than this glass wall I hide behind
Neither here nor there but off somewhere
Stuck between eternity and time

If there was anything here that I could change
It would be the accident that day
Where it all happened to fast to take it all back
Gone from sight but not gone away

I bought myself a new modern mobile
With Internet and all.
***
Such a leap into the stars
After my “Lappy” Laptop
And old Nokia.

Where do I begin?
Either here or on the phone?
At sixty five I need some kid
To show me.

All this feather-light touching and sweeping,
“Apps” and “Data” and battery preservation.
A bewildering jungle of meaningless symbols
That lead you into chaos.

It can be great:
Taking and sharing lovely vistas
For all your Facebook Friends.
Speaking to Google and getting a nice sounding
Lady reply.

Very handy indeed
Until it all goes wrong
And World War Three breaks out
Or else you are Stuck
As surely
As a Prisoner.

But hey, I can be a Fast Learn
Getting there
As at long last I enter
The Twenty First Century.

Paul Butters