I trusted you and her but you laid my body down
The alcohol it poisoned me with a burden
The mind set of you and her on me
My body it’s ***** my mind is filled
All I can think about is the grossness of it
She cut we tried to protect her
But the alcohol poisoned me
Blood and dark red
A tortures red hands horror
The lies were told the hands the were everywhere
The story will never be heard
The pain will forever be felt
Dark red hands they leave marks I know now
Never will I never know again

i havent felt this before
the pain, the thought they take over my head
i never knew this before
i know how she feels now
i never knew before
i dont and tired
my head hurts and i have brusies
my scars the was to be fresh
but i dont want to open them
they are healed
time may heal but memories will never be forgotten

Closed doors

slaves too weak to fight
dying in their chains
electric cuffs around their wrists
objects of profit and entertainment
their image of suffering used
as inventory for auction
in between the air waves
and the pixels of your screen

they are there
and we are here

an image fed through a tube
into the belly of complacency
to be half digested and regurgitated
in the form of chit chat

suffering is now material
profitable stock bid on by
bourgeois couch surfers
entertain me they say

the unaware say
at least it's not me
until it is and then
there is no one but us
no one but our neighbors
our friends and our families

we cannot wait for a friend
that promises protection
and profits from our misfortune
there is no friend in government

open doors

For how many days and how many nights are in the moment of a kiss?
There is a light bulb on the horizon screaming ****** ******.
An obsidian hammer exploding into licks of carnelian flame.
A war drum, it's hide cured from the skin of the desperate.
A humanoid figure crawling out of its ****-stained cage
smelling the slime of a new day.

Little boxes smashed to bits by the stamping foot of a child.
There is a wind blowing from the mouth of the bull.
A ring of fire burns red and green from the void of the lover's soul.

Below the surface of a sea of sand I am breathing in only stardust.
My legs are tingling as they strive to wake up for this journey.

You are narcotic in your presence.
I am elated and depressed simultaneously by your existence.
A wonderful rush followed by a drunken stupor.
An ******* and a small death herein.

Here I am looking away from you because I am afraid of who I am.
I will only skim your surface because what is beneath mine is unspeakable.

I keep my eye heavy lidded,
because if they were wide open,
I would explode into treacherous rapture.
I would know bliss, and that is not meant for me.

This pain, I am only holding dear,
because it has been wrongfully taken from me before.
Please, allow me this despair. Let me feel this anguish.
Though it does not allow you comfort to witness,
it leaves no reason for your false consolation.

Look not, if it discomforts you so — to see me writhing.
Ask not of me to untangle myself from this twisted feeling.

This vine is welcome wisteria nestled in the shadows of my arms.
I ask of you to focus not on my withering leaves,
but of the blossoms it bears.

I will hoist its parasitic lavender radiance to the heavens,
an offering to the eyes of the suffering.

Do not dam these rivers lest you wish a flood upon your mind.
The ocean does not deny any a waterway, and why should you?
Are you so different from the vast gut of the world?
Let us be left landlocked and breathing hot sand.

Let me be. Let me run!

Where is the right place?
When is the right time?
To surface from the ocean of sinking sand.

The forever crumbling plateaus of this high
have me leaping from stone to stone.

Watch where yours is thrown;
where it lands you may find interesting.

This is incoherence.
I am confusion.

Where be my emotional faculty!
Where be my functionality!

Ever wandering.
Caught up. Waiting.
For the next ending.
Too busy to think of the new beginnings.

Quick! Keep going...
You may miss what's going to happen next!
But wait, wait for it...
"Right after these messages."

WHAT OF HERE
WHAT OF NOW
HAVE WE FORGOTTEN EACH OTHER
HAVE WE FORGOTTEN OURSELVES

Have we already closed
the never ending story and
put it back on the shelf?

quite a conundrum
this hum drum dumb song I've sung
with a numb tongue I'm quite stung
by my own bone I'm quite alone
wishing that I could've shown
wishing that I could've sung
all the right tones
walking on my tip toes
untying all these ripped bows
I'm trembling as I'm in the throes
of reevaluating all that I know
from here from here where do I go
on from here how do I go on

Your words,
are soaked in glue.
And they are sticking to me,
like it's all they know how.
The trace marks of your fingers,
linger on my skin
Clearly outlined in tingles and chills
Your kiss,
follows me like a shadow
A feeling I just can't shake loose.
But why would I ever want to.
Now a ghost fills that space
And all I have left is this pebble,
and the memories that wrap around it like a blanket.
To comfort me in this solemn grave
I dug myself in.
If only I had the strength to reach up,
to reach for your hand,
and climb my way out.

I’m no author, novelist or poet.
I’m just Me,
And don’t I know it.
I don’t need to be classified,
As long as I’m writing, I’m satisfied.

Typing out words, line by line,
I don’t care if they don’t rhyme.
I don’t care if my verses don’t scan:
I’m not always an Iambic Man.

I just say what I gotta say,
I’m not worried about any pay.
Words come to me without much bidding,
The world of its evils I hope to be ridding.

I love to spread lots and lots of Love,
Bringing peace to all like a messenger dove.
Things of beauty bring joy, John Keats rightly said,
To make us sleep easy when we go to bed.

So I’ll paint what I paint,
And sing what I sing,
Just letting those words
Do their magical thing.

Paul Butters