Under a mocking Sun,
I may be The Only One.
Or very close to that.
Yes, here I am again,
Back on this theme.
For all I know is that
I feel and think right now.

As for others,
I can but surmise
From what I see and hear.

Yet who provides this World
In which I live:
A many splendoured Universe?
Human builders built these streets:
Residences flanked by cars.
But Someone must be Dreaming all this
And it can’t be little me.

They talk of Big Bang and Evolution,
Like is some form of Revolution.
But Who provided that First Spark,
Light created out of The Dark?

Who is Responsible
For tiny particles
Winking in and out
Of Existence?

My own Id gives me splendid dreams,
But these are nothing
Compared to what springs forth
From some Super Id
Out there somewhere
Or somewhen.

Evolution takes its course,
Following a formula
That transcends
Space and Time.

Many call The Author “God”
Of course,
And why not?
We each have our God,
Defined however we will.
Our Sun has been a “God”,
And maybe still is to some.

Whatever we believe in,
There are Powers around,
Way above our heads.
Whoever or whatever they are
We can but Hope
That they smile upon us
And keep us safe.

Paul Butters

© PB 3\12\2018.

The darkness shrouds through time and space,
what lurks beyond, which has no face.

Allured by whispers never caught,
The mercy leaves no other thought.

Approaching though with care and ease,
the searing pain seems not to cease.

A drop thereby may well transform,
the deepest sea into a storm.

The sudden change appears as cheat,
but anyhow you must retreat.

What is it that you do not get,
remember it! did you forget?

Good old Norman,
Thank goodness he’s normal.
Unlike many a friend,
He hasn’t gone round the bend.
Stevens is his surname:
He never plays the Blame Game.

Such a decent chap
And never utters *******.
Whoops, I had to miss that rhyme,
To avoid committing a bit of a crime.

Norm is quite the hero,
And something of a Shakespearo.
He’s maybe my biggest fan,
From England to Japan.

Reading poems from me,
Right there on his Smart TV.
So Norman enjoy your beer,
As I will always be here.

Paul Butters

© PB 1\12\2018.

Who put the “sub” into “subversion” and “subculture”?
Was it the same people
Who built schools:
Those prisons
Where kids are tortured
And brainwashed
Into being “good” conforming citizens –
Factory fodder
Trained to sit in lines
Labouring at meaningless tasks,
Questioning nothing?

So still we are ruled
By Tory Grandees and Brussels Bureaucrats
Keeping us in our place:
Social Control
Over Job Centre slaves.

It’s the same the whole world over:
The rich wallowing in luxury
While the poor starve to death
Exposed to pitiless winds.

For once words fail me
About our Unfair World.
Children dying everywhere
While fatcats feed in a frenzy.
No wonder people talk of Revolution
And terrorist plots.
Our air is full of carbon
While trees are cut
Down
For seas of palm oil.

We need to reconsider
What we do
In all our ways.
Enough is enough.
It’s time to nurture nature
As denizens of Planet Earth.

Paul Butters

© PB 23\11\2018.

Remoaners to the left, Brextremists to the right,
Theresa “Maggie” May has an uphill fight.
I can’t see her lasting many more days,
Unless she changes her stubborn ways.

Theresa is an immovable object.
Her hubby must be totally henpecked.
Trying to please just everyone,
Annoying all is what she’s done.

Right now she is UK Prime Minister,
But her own back benchers are getting sinister.
Some say she’s sold us down the river,
A thing for which they can’t forgive her.

Others claim she’s gone too far,
As we should stay just where we are.
Some see Europe as our friend,
But others say the UK we must defend.

Ireland is a sticking point
A thing that’s gonna rock the joint.
They don’t know where to put the border,
Without causing grief and disorder.

What an impasse, feels like stalemate,
Are we heading to be a slave state?
Who knows what’s going to happen next?
No wonder we are all perplexed.

Paul Butters

© PB 17\11\2018.

Armies of words gather in my head
To march so boldly onto the page.
They work their wonders
Who knows how?
Why they pick me as their channel
For their landing craft
I’ll never know.

Some accident of birth:
Genetic fluke –
For which I take no credit –
Makes me nectar to these ants
That line themselves into verse.

Compulsion drives me to write
As salmon must jump those water falls
To return to their spawning grounds.

I have to speak, or rather type:
Express myself
No matter what,
Whether good or bad.

Is there a cure for this affliction of mine?
Can I ever stop myself from writing?
I very much doubt it.

Paul Butters

© PB 16\11\2018.

Back in the day,
When I was a little whipper snapper in Leeds,
We would go “chumping”, as we called it, for firewood,
For weeks and weeks.

Everyone built towering infernos,
Ready for November Fifth:
Bonfire Night.
Some made effigies of the “evil” Guy Fawkes,
Leader of the “Gunpowder Plot”
And stood in the street saying
“Penny for the Guy”.

What a night!
Roaring fire on a chill Winter night,
Those flames burning your face.
A World War Three
Of Fireworks:
Rockets, Catherine Wheels and bangers.
Bangers to scare the girls.
Kids painting pictures in the air
With sparklers.

And best of all,
That yummy gingery Parkin cake:
A taste I cannot put
Into words.
Oh and deep dark
Treacle Toffee,
Jacket potatoes,
Roast chestnuts
And Crunchie-like cinder toffee.

It’s many a year since I went to a bonfire.
Politically correct firework displays
Are more the modern thing.

Seems strange to burn the effigy
Of a man who had the sense
To try to blow parliament up –
Especially a Yorkshire Man.
Ha ha.

But then I read that good
Religious reasons are behind
This bonfire Celebration:
Those flames are orange
After all.

Not wishing to create divisions
Anywhere in the world,
It’s still good to see traditions
Being maintained.

Let those fires and fireworks keep rising,
Constantly emerging from the shadows
Of Halloween.

Paul Butters

© PB 27\10\2018.

Written at the request of Stephen Chapman. “Treacle toffee” added later, with “jacket potatoes” and “cinder toffee” added on 31\10\18. "Roast chestnuts" added 18\11.