My stream of consciousness is in full flow,
Tumbling down the page.
A cascade of words
Bouncing and foaming
Towards unknown seas.

No planning here.
No structure
Or direction.
Just meanderings
And oxbow lakes.

Free verse unfettered
By Draconian Rules
Or dogma.
Odd rhymes thrown in
Perhaps:
Casual confetti.

So what should I type about,
Sitting here in my armchair
In the silence of my lounge?

The sky is full of clouds
A blanket over this
September afternoon.
Perfect conditions
For composing this poem.

Should I put the world to rights?
(How long have you got?)
Or just indulge
In some uplifting visions?

I don’t do emotions very much.
The cork is firmly closed
On those.
Recall my early loves:
All unrequited.
Crushes
That crushed my very soul.
Memories of crying inside,
Unable to eat
Or think of anything except
That longing for love
Which never came.

So no
I don’t do emotions.
And seldom reveal myself
As I just did.
I’d rather let my imagination soar,
My eagle eye -
A soaring cliché –
Taking in the sweep of space
And everything below.

I see trees
And animals,
Mountains, coasts and oceans.
People milling about.
A scream of seagulls soars above the sea.
Waves crash:
A thundering tsunami
Against the brittle cliffs.

I have many voices.
From soft soothing lullabies
To grand orations
Full of pomp and splendour.

Music plays in my head:
A crescendo of orchestras
And songs.
Freddie, Elvis, Bassey
Clapton, Hendrix and Satriani.
Ginger Baker, Phil Collins.

Reciting poetry
Within my brain
Is easy
After Bohemian Rhapsody.

So once more to the beach dear friends
With Brian Wilson
And his crew.
Let Sloop John B be launched
Again
Heading for oceans new.

At last a rhyme
As attention spans begin to
Wane.
Enough for now
My loyal friends.
I’d best bid you
Adieu.

Paul Butters

© PB 4\9\2020. First 3 lines Written 16\8\20 in my big paper diary.

In our Beginning God created this Universe.
It was during an Eterninfinity,
But old Moses didn’t go into that.

Now space was formless and empty,
Darkness reigned.
And God said
“Let there be matter”
And there was matter:
A singularity
Expanding faster and faster
To create material, movement and Time.

The early universe was a cloud
Of gas and dust
Enveloped in blackness.
So God said
“Let there be light”
And there was light
As the first star was born.

The universe expanded.
First generation stars
Made light elements
And later generations of stars
Produced heavier ones.

And the star we call The Sun
Was born
Mothering The Earth
Amongst other worlds.
The Earth:
A small ball of iron
And rock
Attended by a Moon.

The die was cast
Right at the start
The Formula was set
So Inevitably life appeared
Here on Earth
And here we are!

Evolution would not be possible
Without The Formula
Formed by God
Wherever S\he is.

Evolution is part of The Equation
I feel.
But what came before Genesis?
And how did God come to Be?
Does God have a God?
And that God his or her God?
For we just might be Lost
In a Multiverse
Within an Eterninfinity:
Courtesy of Lady Luck
And the roll of some Ethereal, Divine
Dice.

Paul Butters

© PB 20\8\2020.

As a typer of what might be
Poetry
I am a football manager
With WORDS as my players.

Words in a Deep W Formation –
Total free verse
Hopefully forming a diamond.
No buses parked here
As my words go winging
Down the page.

Not quite five three two
But maybe the odd Haiku
In syllables of five seven five –
For there are far more than eleven syllables
In Poetry.

All writers are the same:
Our words combining
To make meaning,
Passing our visions
Views and feelings
For a crowd of readers
All being well.

Words to be chanted
By crowds enchanted –
Songs for a stadium
That is our united mind.

Paul Butters

© PB 16\8\2020.

Let your mind’s eye fly forward
Right out the window
Through that faint reflection
Of your lounge.
Let it fly
Over those regulated blocks
We call estates
The ant city landscape
Then over the plains
To the sea.

Head to the far horizon,
Over the curve
Of The Earth
And on
Into blackest space.
Out by Pluto
Through Orion’s Belt
And The Milky Way.
Beyond Andromeda
And countless galaxy clusters.

Then look back
Towards our tiny blue marble.
Look back
At everything we know.
See how trivial
We humans
Really are.

Our world,
A tiny speck
Upon the canvas
Of the cosmos.
One grain of sand
Upon an infinite beach.

Then fly back home
But still remember
That the Glory of Existence
Is Everywhere
To be enjoyed
And cherished
While ever we live.

Paul Butters

© PB 21\7\2020.

They say this Covid Plague came from bats.
I picture a great black cave
Filled with bats
Crammed into the crannies –
Locust swarm sardines,
Those Covid spike-*****
Rubbing their hands with glee.

So what happens when Lockdown Eases?
Swarms of sheeples
Dancing in the streets
Squeezing together
In a ***** fuelled frenzy
Just like those bats.

Except the bats remain sober:
They only do what they do
Knowing no other.
But We have no excuse.
We have the intelligence
To see
That this is wrong.
Yet we choose NOT
To act smart.

No, we risk all –
Risk a lonely breathless death
And anonymous incineration
Away from our friends and kin
Just for a ***** lash
Out on the crowded town.  

Will We ever Learn?
I’m afraid
It might be a long time coming.

Paul Butters

© PB 5\7\2020.

You say that all poetry is gobbledygook:
That Art's a waste of time
Elvis was just a Showman
And Freddie Mercury…
(Yes the same first name as you!)
…I’d better not say.

Where is your soul, Philistine Fred?
So many like you around.
Your mind cluttered with clinical facts,
Everything measured
And boxed –
Fastidious and precise.
Emotion killed
By setsquares
Set by Pythagoras
On a geometrical day.

You hate historical dramas
And all things learned.
Admitting any Education
Loses any street cred earned.
Yet you watch hours and hours
Of soaps.

You love supporting football teams
From places you’ve never been near.
But at least you like your pubs
For a lovely pint of beer.

I guess I’ll have to keep trying
To get through to you and your kind.
Yet I know some things ain’t possible
And you may never change your mind.

But yes I’ll keep on trying:
Keep banging out my poems –
Knowing that my pockets
Will never be lined with coins.

I know that you won’t read this,
But I will carry on.
For there are people out there
Who will listen to my song.

Paul Butters

© PB 3\7\2020.

The breathtaking wonders of the universe
Orgasmically explode:
Trillions of stars,
Blindingly bright
With black light.

Black?
Yes, as we can see
But a glimpse
Of their light.
So without US,
All is black
And might as well
Not exist.

We are Vital.
With Us at least
Some light is seen
And admired.
The wonders of our world
And sky
Are acknowledged
And felt
And thought about.

Yet who are “We”?
We are all sentient beings –
Not just humans:
All living things with brains
From ants to whales.

It’s worth remembering that.

Paul Butters

© PB 25\6\2020.