As i Lay here in my spot
In  the hole of hell
With thoughts so in heavenly
I ponder....
Do you ponder what I ponder
Do appreciate the sun on your skin as much as the people that hate being all day in the sun
Toiling.....burning their skin
Just to have a spot to lay
In the hole of hell ... ?

You licked your lips
I lip synced to you
you licked your stamp
I felt I might be cornered
you stamped your gift
I'm stuck on you
we got stuck in
strokes
smoothing down
you stamped your mark on me
delivered
lips to lips
striking
we stuck to it
no
we aren't stuck with it
but on each other
tampering
peeling off
licking our lips

There were ten boys in a room
numbered one through ten
they all lived peacefully
until the moment when
number ten took a liking to
number seven's suede shoes
three defended ten while
six and seven made a truce

ten shot a rocket
with questionable aim
after which we find
number two had been slain
eight and nine shot back
with a sling shot blast
while ten used four
to cover his ***

four perished, as one
came to his aid
spraying blindly
over where four laid
when it was over
only seven and ten remained
while one fell over exhausted
his resources drained

seven looked down at his shoes
which after the fighting were no longer new
he took them off one by one
and handed them to ten
deciding the war was no longer needed
ten thanked seven and walked away
to the corner and turned around
he'd fight again another day

I would start with your hands.
Mine would dance with yours;
our fingers waltzing together.

Then they would become curious,
I know so.
My hands would glide up your arm
leaving a trail of goose bumps behind.

I don't know where your hands have gone,
but mine have reached the top of your shoulder.
My fingers can't resist
tracing your collar bone.

Your hands find mine.
I think they got lost
in the escalation of my own.
But they're together now.

Taking a hint from yours,
my hands reach to your chin --
only breaking contact
for a second.

My fingers have tilted your chin,
so our eyes can do a similar dance
to the one our hands have completed.

Hands are the utilitarian laborers
of the body,
but eyes guard the gates
to the soul.

My eyes search your own.
They are hesitant, but
my hands are always reliable.

They pull you into me
and at the last second
before our eyes close,
and our lips meet,
my eyes find what they knew was there.

I don't want to go out dancing
I don't want to "hang" with boys
I don't want to wear a push up bra
(Not that there's much to push)
nor make out in some grubby car.

I don't want to cake on make up
I don't want to weave my hair
I don't want to wear stilettos
Or a skirt cut up to where??

I just want to write my poems
play my games and read my books,
have some decent conversation
not based around a popstars looks
(Or the *** he's *******)

I know I'm odd but please don't judge me
I'm a girl, just not the same
call me names and laugh behind me
call me ******, call me lame.

Maybe someday you will see me,
well payed job and handsome man
and wonder how I got that lucky
just by being who I am.

Yet for now you only see me
as a nerd, a geek, a jest,
Take your hot pink lip gloss, sweetie
and push that pram like all the rest.

**** girl!
Frustration strips my veins as I read your dreams, tempting me with fire
Don't you know I already burn in your flame?

**** girl!
You laugh at my blushes and tease my conscience, as I shake like a poorly mixed cocktail that wants only to slip down your silken throat.

**** girl!
I ask what you're doing, laying supple, arched by the words of angels your reply. My warning wasted on deafened ears.

**** girl!
You don't see what you've got, I do, does he? I'm flesh and blood, close enough to touch, though your soft skin never graces mine.

**** girl!
****!

I need to break the cycle
shake the sadness, smite the gloom,
while all my signs are vital
and before I reach my tomb.

I need to laugh in rainstorms,
breath in the finest smoke
and drown in sweet tequila
among sweet good humoured folk.

I need to blast some Springsteen
get some clothes on, get a grip,
because frankly all this maudlin crap
is making me feel sick.

I need to scream in forests,
get my bare *** in a lake
let the water freeze my **** off
then go home for tea and cake.

I cannot bear this sadness
leaching out from every pore
so I'll work my way right through this list
and then I'll scream....
ENCORE!!!!!

For seventy or more years TV
And radio ruled the world,
Along with telephones.
But then computers made their mark,
Soon followed by mobiles, Smartphones,
Ipads, Bluetooth, Wifi and who knows what?
In no particular order.

So herds of sheep migrated
Into Cyberspace
Even Myspace!
Then on to Planet Facebook
And Terratwitter.

We talk with people we’ve never met,
And meet folk with whom we’ve never talked.
It keeps us occupied I guess,
And gives relief from stress.

These images that yet fresh images beget,
I’m sure Yeats would agree.
I tolerate these adverts flashing in my face
And soak up knowledge to my solid mental grace.

A world of wonders beckons in
The depths of Cyberspace,
And as a Nerd before they were invented,
I have to say I’ve truly found my place.

Paul Butters