A shaman of wise women
Whose only truths are never told
Seeks only understandings
Held aloft b'neath the world's nose
Be it truths bitter
Or stories of olde
Skeletons in closets
That reek of forebode
Mother whispers word of experience
Father helps them believe another view
The holy mass of firsthand knowledge
Read by those who can learn nothing new
A gift to the younger
A word from the wise
To see the bigger picture
Not the irony of life.

My lazy radar lets me down,
Sometimes I just look a clown.
They called me a lazy reader:
Well I think it was “reader”…

‘Fraid to say I’m very slow,
For learning that’s a deadly foe.
Marking books was very hard,
I was given a yellow card.

For every down, though, there’s an up,
Always a way to win The Cup.
I couldn’t skim, I had no choice,
But that’s what gave me my poetic Voice.

So if I’m slow to read your stuff,
Don’t forget I find it tough.
I’ll read your poem as soon as I can,
And if it’s good I’ll be your fan.

Paul Butters

Love is but a ghost;
So very hard to find.
It is but a smear;
A shadow lost.
It has found a new fear
It has shed its last tear.
Love is but a memory
Lost in the back of my mind;
A temporary
Illusion, a vision,
An addition
For loneliness that I sometimes appear
To escape into whilst awake at night;
Feeling confused I turn out the light.

©Jack Aylward
26th January 2004

Dem phones, dem phones, dem iPhones,
Dem phones, dem phones, dem iPhones,
Dem phones, dem phones, dem iPhones,
Now praise the Lord for the Web.

The Apple phone’s connected to the Vodaphone,
And the Vodaphone’s connected to the Google Zone,
The Google Zone’s connected to the Web Zone,
Oh hear the Lord of the Word.

Well the phone’s connected to a browser
And it fits very neatly in your trouser.
The browser connects you to the Internet
Faster than the fastest speed-jet,
Just the place for a quick bet.
Oh hear the Lord of the Word.

It might get you onto Facebook
Or teach you how to be good cook
Find you some ladies for a good…
Time.

Now Praise the Lord of The Word.

Paul Butters

I am not the name upon the building
There is no shingle hung for me
But, if we walk into the forest
You'll see where it's carved upon a tree

I move in diferent circles
though I like who I've become
While my friends were busy studying
I was absorbing, having fun

I'm wrapped up in a blanket of academic non achieving
Too much time has passed me by to sit here now and grieving
I wear a cloak of non success that is a little worn
And just like me, it's tattered some and in places slightly torn
It doesn't matter one **** bit, I'm where I want to be
Making ripples in the water, that make their way out to the sea

I life life at a different speed
and Time it is my friend
Because just like those who studied hard
We're all dieing in the end

They won't outlive their building
Their name not there to see
But, deep down in the forest
My name's still on that tree

I'm wrapped up in a blanket of academic non achieving
Too much time has passed me by to sit here now and grieving
I wear a cloak of non success that is a little worn
And just like me, it's tattered some and in places slightly torn

They won't outlive their building
Their name not there to see
But, deep down in the forest
My name's still on that tree