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Paul Butters Feb 2018
I
I
The essential me.
My soul and spirit.
Never to be broken.
For I am who I am
And no-one else can live my life
But me.

No gods, emperors or kings
Can rule
Inside my head.

Sure, I can bow and scrape
To my “Superiors”,
Yet in the confines of my mind
My thoughts and feelings remain
My very own.

Inside, I have Attitude
And Assert myself fully.

You may well brainwash me
With ideology
And all manner of social-controlling stuff
But you will never eradicate
The essence
That is Me
Indeed I.

I may have little power
In this sordid world of ours,
But in the Universe of Planet Paul
I am effectively
God.

Without me,
Without my Mind,
My Id,
There would be no Life
In any place
For Me.

Without this Life
There is no World or Universe
As far as I
Am concerned.

For Me
Whatever I do not experience
Does not exist at all.

Think me selfish if you wish
Or Egocentric
Self-Centred
Call it what you will
I have to say it
As it is.

Just be grateful
That in the end
I am a loving soul.

Paul Butters

© PB 26\2\18.
Self Assertion!
Paul Butters Feb 2018
Have you ever woken up, got washed and dressed
Started you morning routine then…
Something’s not right!
Wrong place or feature
Or whatever.
You are still dreaming!
You shake yourself
And at last
You truly are awake!??

They say that Life as such
Is also but a dream.
So imagine, when you die
You find yourself on another bed
And remember the “Earth” in which you fell asleep.
A lifetime’s experience
All packed into a few hours of dreams
In a room that resides
At a higher level.
A higher level that too
Might be a dream within a dream.
An infinity of levels of dreams,
Life upon life.
Imagine that.
Boggle that mind of yours
With infinite dreams
For eternity.

Paul Butters

© PB 11\2\2018.
Inspired by another "waking dream": a dream of being awake when I am not.
Paul Butters Feb 2018
My “Daffies” and Bluebells are budding now.
Maybe my Crocuses too.
Roll on Summer is what I say,
Clichéd though that may be.

No more dark dreary “days”,
With biting icy winds.
No more freezing fog
Or fretful snow.

Let’s have glorious sunshine
Bathing all our land.
Ice cream and holidays,
Leisure and luxurious slumbers.

Those Daffodils will be history by “Flaming June”
And with that “roll” will come the “rock”
Of sugar seaside sticks
With dancing music.

Oh to bring back Rock and Roll,
So we can do it again
Down on the beach
Where children ride on donkeys
While dogs frolic on the sands.
To play football again,
Jumpers for goal posts
On lush green grass.

Sunny summer.
Bring it on.

Paul Butters

© PB 9\2\2018.
Yes, Roll on Summer!!!!!!
Paul Butters Feb 2018
Mike Bee
Likes a fast read.
The End.

Paul Butters

© PB 1\2\2018 (2).
I've bowed to market "demand" here. lol
  Feb 2018 Paul Butters
Ricki
What is a poet if not a victim?
For he seems to be the only exception to a world of goodness.
Oh, what better way to depict him, than his own victimization?
What is a poet if not a child?
Granted, some are aged, but they all whine.
What is a poet if not broken?
He does mention his glass shards on the frequent.
Do keep in mind that he will never be doing fine.
What is a poet if not psychotic?
For him and all his kind appear to be mad.
What is a poet if not sad?
Spoiled minds of the depressed kind truly are poetic.
What is a poet if not contradictive?
For him, it's quite addictive.
What is a poet if not guilty?
For he may not always have the ability to plea innocent and play the victim.
What is a poet if not old?
Granted, some are young, but they're all wise.
What is a poet if not whole?
He is full of courage, he is bold.
So tell me, how is he not whole?
What is a poet if not sane?
Sure, he may be vain and a little odd, but he does write with utter sanity.
What is a poet if not glad?
He writes of love and purple lips.
Though his happiness may dip, he truly is a joyous soul.
What is a poet if not a fool?
He does accuse and misconstrue.
What is a poet if not a man, just like me and you?
trees lose bark covers
like a brown snake shedding skin
to reveal new coats
an all consuming love*
took hold of the narcissist
his great admiration for self
was the everlasting gist

in front of the mirror he stood
kissing his own reflection
whilst at it saying I'm so deserving
of my steadfast affection

yes he was absorbed
in a love profound of pond
this being the love he'd
keep fervently fond

no one else could love him
with such a richness of care
cause he was unable to
empathetically share

the love he did bear inside
his indulgent infantile heart
would never be completely
*cleaved apart
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