People playing out time.
They work all day
Doing mundane jobs.
Passively watch the telly
And play on their mobile phones.
Week in week out:
Same routine,
With the odd break.

So what is The Purpose
Of all this?
We have our struggles and strifes,
Our glorious wins –
All forgotten once we go.
Generation follows generation,
Each an essay
At the game of Life.
So I ask again,
What is The Purpose?
I've asked this most of my life.

All I can say,
Scratching my head,
Is that we are here just
To Appreciate
The Beauty
Of our Universe,
This World we call “Earth”
And all that Mother Nature
Creates.

We must meditate on this
And make more music.
Listen to our Muses
Then sing, paint, write, sculpt
Or whatever Art
We care
To flow
From our souls.
Amen.

Paul Butters

© PB 1\4\2018.

Don’t cut all your food up before you eat it:
Slice as you go.
And don’t mix up your curry and rice first:
Take some curry, add some rice…
“But I can eat it all at once this way”.

Cut your box hedge only once or twice per year.
“That will let it grow six foot high instead of four though”.
Do all your shopping at once.
Plan ahead so you don’t have to nip out for things.
“Hate shopping. Rather buy as and when.”

Put your Geraniums in pots over winter.
“I’ll need hell of a lot of pots!
Will break the roots
Digging them out
Of that claggy soil.”

Your Artex could have Asbestos in it:
That could be dangerous.
“I’m not about to drill into it
And breathe in the dust am I?”

What you don’t know when your car MOT and tax are due?
“My garage knows and they look after me.
But I checked them on the internet now.
The garage is right.”

You didn’t know you’d paid off your mortgage
And you claimed for a moat?
“I’m a politician”.

Why do you put all that ******* on Facebook?
“Because my friends Love my posts and say so.”

You are supposed to…
You shouldn’t…
You should…
You mustn’t…
You Must!

"People!"

Paul Butters

© PB 26\3\2018.

See the grandeur of our universe:
Flocks of far-flung galaxies,
Shrouded by clouds of swirling gas.

A vastness too great to comprehend,
Filled with solar systems
That defy imagination.

Yet none of this is as wondrous
As a tiny bug:
A “lickle life form”
That can look around
And say to itself
(In a language of its own):
I am here.
This is my world.
No idea what is beyond
What I can sense,
But I know I’m here.
And even the greatest galaxy
Cannot do that.

Paul Butters

© PB 19\3\2018.

Confidence is key
In oh so many ways
Much more than with
The things you do.

Walk tall, stand still,
Be open and direct.
Show them all
That you are completely
Unafraid.

Don’t fidget, look around or gabble on.
Don’t show your anxious self.
Speak slowly, with pause
And show you are assured and calm.

For confidence is like a virus,
Spreading out throughout the room,
Infecting all
With that assertion
That You
Are Number One.

If only I myself was brought up this way,
Who knows what I’d have done?
But better late than never,
As they say.
Let’s start,
By being tall,
And cutting out
That slouch.

But remember,
Never compare:
Treat everyone as equal,
Never be arrogant:
Be gently assertive.

Paul Butters

© PB 9\3\2018.

I say again: the fifties film “Forbidden Planet”
Brought us “Monsters from the Id”
Where your worst nightmares
Were brought to life
From the deepest recesses
Of your subconscious mind.

The Id is such a frightful thing.
It can create the greatest pleasure
Or the most horrific monster.
Even God may have an Id.
Maybe that Id created this heavenly hell
We call Earth.

Does anyone anywhere have any control
Of The Id?
Probably not.
Those mountains of our mind
No man fathomed.
Gloomy jungles infested by crocodiles.
Endless depths.

The Id holds all the cards,
Letting us have a memory
Now and then.
Imagine if our dreams
Could truly come to life!

Bad enough that the alligator within us
Swishes with fear
And anger
The moment we feel threatened
When really we are safe
As “Mindfulness” shows.

Yes, the Id is King of the brain,
No democracy here
And all we can do
Is play along
As best we can.

Paul Butters

© PB 27\2\18.