Maybe there must be Existence
For Non-Existence to exist,
Life for Death,
Death for Life,
Finiteness for Infinity,
You can work out the rest.

Love and hate, pain and pleasure,
All a continuum,
All inevitable.

Existence cannot be denied
Even if we live in a virtual world:
A fantasy penned
By who knows who?
For thinking is being,
We all know that.

So enjoy while you can
Before you get written
Out of the script.
Spring turns to summer now
In a seemingly endless circle
Even a globe.
Make the most of it
And party on
As best you can
In your own unique way.

Paul Butters

© PB 25\4\2020.

We pray for salvation
To a Supreme Being
We hope exists.
But how is God possible
In an infinite number of infinite multiverses
Lasting forever?

We find our God
(We think)
Only to discover there is a Bigger One.
Then another!

Beyond is followed by beyond
Age by age by age
Light year by light year
Never ending.

Due reverence to every god,
But does each god have a god in turn?
Something tells me there are bound to be
Greater powers and intellects than us.

Yet, as the proverb says
We are all in the same boat:
A ship that sails a boundless ocean
Of space and time.

We can steam ahead
In a straight line
Only to eventually find ourselves
Back where we began.

All of us are lost.
But the good news is:
We are all lost together.

Paul Butters

© PB 22\4\2020.

Welcome to the Timeless Zone,
Vast as space and timeless as infinity.
A surreal dimension
Located somewhere between
A normal New Year 2020
And the imagined end
Of the Coronavirus Lockdown.

A dimension of sight, sound and mind
Taking us from the pit of superstition and fear,
To the sunlight of scientific knowledge.

The days pass endlessly
As we look for something to do
Again and again.
No meetings to go to,
Our year-planners and diaries
Consigned to being buried in dust.

Here we sit
In twilight:
Idly watching TV
Or catching up on household chores.
We take a daily walk
Even jog
And occasionally pop to the shops.

Shops that is, where you have to follow the arrows
Keep in your own little zone
Do Not Pass Go
Go straight to Jail –
I mean The Counter:
Once you have followed the maze
Of often empty shelves
Ransacked by Panic Buyers.

And at the counter you are served
By workers in gloves and plastic visors.
You must stay behind that line!

But mainly we sit like zombies,
Passing away the time.
At least the pressure is off:
Nowhere to go
Nothing to do.

But look!
A sign up ahead.
Maybe a crossing.
I hope it says
“The End”.

Paul Butters

© PB 19\4\2020. With due credit to “The Twilight Zone” TV series.

Whoah! A stinky ****
In an enclosed room!
Out we go…
To pure fresh air
Ozonal
With a hint of salty sea.

Smell that fresh-cut sappy grass,
Those rustic woods
An acrid hint of fox
Dog and cat
Someone’s perfume lingering in the air.

Things are cooking:
Bacon to **** for,
Baking bread,
Spicy curries
And glorious fish and chips.
Roast beef and lamb
Fast fried food
And coffee
Pervades the air.

Garden blossoms
Traditional roses.
I finger a mint-leaf…

But something is burning!
Ah!
Not the same as the smell of rain.

But don’t ask me.
Ask instead those dogs and cats
With their super-sense of smell.
For Max the Labrador Collie
Always inspects my feet
And heaven knows
What he makes of
That.

Paul Butters

© PB 14\4\2020. ("Fast fried food And coffee" added 18\4).

As I walk out of my door
A clichéd cacophony of birdsong
Surrounds me with beauty
And uplifts my soul.

Yet we humans too love to sing
And play those instruments:
Creating lullabies, arias, symphonies,
Serenades and rock and roll shows.
To name but a few.

Angelic choirs in lofty minsters,
Lifting us up to the stars,
Embracing God in Heaven.
Heavy metal bands
Thrashing out thunder
In stadia seething with singing fans.
Brass bands too: trumpeting and rumpeting
In a crescendo of sound.

Hear those trembling triangles and sublime wind chimes.
Feel those bouncing drums.
Twanging, sweeping, swooning
Plucking, soaring, crying
Guitar.
Tinkling pianos and weeping violins.
Whole orchestras of mind-blowing sound,
Welsh rugby crowds
And the Liverpool Kop.

Magical music:
From spiritually haunting
To simply getting laid.
Bringing out the animal in us:
Passion and desire
Raw emotion
Or else the supernatural
Ethereal skyscapes
Sometimes sheer dread
And horror.

Watch any good film:
The musical score is everything:
“Star Wars”, “Gone with the Wind”, “******”
“Battlestar Gallactica”, “Ben Hur”…
Beethoven, Mozart, The Beatles
The Stones, Queen, Genesis…
So much to love
Chuck Berry and Elvis
Rocking and rolling and reeling
And stealing our minds away.

So let’s get singing
And dancing
And banging those drums,
Flexing our plectrums
To make one helluva
Noise.
Let that magical music play
For Ever.

Paul Butters

© PB 10\4\2020.

Husken, Wendy:
Ever trendy,
Always knitting
Something fitting.

Hudson, Simon
Working on his rhyming.
Not got it right yet,
Graphics is a better bet.

A Littlefair called Gail,
Often goes beyond the pale.
A canny Glesga lass,
Always as bold as brass.

That massive hulk Chris Bygott
Would make a ****** good pirate.
But he loves table tennis and fishing:
For success he’s always wishing.
He hasn’t done too bad,
Done even better than Dad.

Paul Butters

© PB 9\4\2020.