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1d · 75
What can I say about Queen?
A band who superseded The Beatles
And maybe even bettered them.
That Voice of Super Freddie
The Sun King indeed.
Brian May’s soaring guitar
Backed up by the typically quiet Bass Man
John Deacon
With Roger Taylor
Pounding those drums.

They were the complete package.
Even their lyrics were great.
Songs ranging from hard rock
To slow songs that ****** the soul.
Songs that will live forever.
Some that make me cry
And others that later make me
Get up and shadow-box
A heavier version of Freddie himself.

For Freddie Mercury was larger than life,
So cruelly taken from us
Too soon,
As John Lennon was.
And Elvis of course.
Too many bite the dust.

Bee dop bop bee dee bop
Bee bop, bee bop
Dee da day
With these immortal words
Freddie sends us
On our way.

Paul Butters

© PB 23\5\2020.
The Champions ?!!
May 11 · 107
Paul Butters May 11
Open your legs and show your class.
Sing like Elvis,
Freddie, Pavarotti
Or Shirley Bassey.
Belt out Lennon-McCartney tunes
With Beach Boys Harmonies
And Eric’s Slow Hand Guitar.

Be as Magical as Messi,
Supremely Shakespeare with your plays and poems,
Better still. Hopkins and Keats.
Show the genius of Brian Wilson
And Oscar Wilde.
Not forgetting the Table Tennis Kings
Waldner and Ma Long.  

Oh Yes
Be Champion
Be Real Madrid
Or Barca if you prefer.
1970 Brazil
Federer, Navratilova
Or Lewis Hamilton.

Be simply the best,
Like Ali,
Or better still,
Be better than yourself
Day after day.
Just keep improving,
That’s the way.

Let this poem be tagged
To get you off your backside.
There’s nothing like Achieving
To fill us full of Pride.

Paul Butters

© PB 11\5\2020. Hopkins, Keats and Ali added 14\5.
Sorry to whomever I left out!
May 4 · 128
Paul Butters May 4
Inspiration to the nation
That’s what I’m all about.
Inspiration to the world,
That without a doubt.

I’m a Meerkat teaching the kids to forage
Something much juicier than porridge,
But I show everyone how to dream
Of better pastures
Full of honey and whipped cream.

Meerkats may have lookouts, nannies and fighters
But they are smart little blighters
Capable of vision
In spite of facing derision.

Imagination is the key
To shaking off our shackles
(Whatever they may be)
And running free.

Paul Butters

© PB 4\5\2020.
First a sleep, then a bath, to come up with this one.
May 2 · 175
Mother Nature's Realm
Paul Butters May 2
It’s a well-known thing
That I worship Mother Nature
Like many more.
For her works adorn the sweeping panorama
Of our world.

From the mountain tops
To unfathomable ocean floors,
Lush rain forests
To polar ice caps
And boiling hot geysers
Her empire almost has no bounds.

Yet our planet is but a blue speck
On an endless beach
That spans the universe
And maybe multiverse.

For Mother Nature began her work
Long before our “Earth” was born.
She began from Nothing:
Some “Singularity” expanding
To form our Universe.
Clusters of galaxies were formed,
Swathed in clouds of dust and gas
Nebulae nurseries, birthing stars.
Light stars lived and died
To reform as heavy stars
With planets and moons.

So now we have a realm of worlds,
Nestled in the Goldilocks Zones of their suns
Teeming with water
And possibly Life.

The formula is everywhere:
Worlds, water, warmth, minerals
Carbon, Oxygen perhaps
With other well known building blocks of life.
Of life almost inevitable.

So we see
That the realm of Mother Nature
May well be infinite
And eternal.
We must help her as best we can,
Guarding our own health first of all
Then always seeking
To make her garden grow.

Paul Butters

© PB 2\5\2020.
Mother Nature!
Apr 30 · 88
Neverending Journey
Paul Butters Apr 30
Life is a journey through an infinite universe.
Even before we die,
We pass the baton to the next generation,
For Them to continue the race.

Ages ago I read of a teacher
Who taught kids to write free verse.
I cannot find the book he wrote on this,
But he let them express themselves
And play with words,
Completely free.

Since then I’ve written free verse
Though from time to time
I like a rhyme,
Iambic verses too.

Or a Clerihew.
What a to do!
May the verses run
So we have some fun.

You want to write?
It is your right.
No need for perfection,
Just build a collection.

I write each piece
For my great nephew and niece.
They may not be poems
Bringing in coins,
But I have the gift,
You get my drift.

Thanks to Mum and Dad
I ain’t all bad.
It’s so exciting
To keep on writing.

Paul Butters

© PB 30\4\20. (New 4th line suggested by Norman Stevens).

(From an idea that came to me while taking a bath).

This poem is dedicated to Jacob and Rosie Gamble.
Yep - thought of this in the bath.
Apr 28 · 184
Paul Butters Apr 28
Television cooks rarely do
Fish, chips and mushy peas
With spotted **** for afters.

It’s got to be
Creamy coconut curry
With Balingud Zalud
Soaked in Chimichurri sauce.

Or Jalapena Lime Slaw
Accompanied by spicy Sriracia mayo
And Rachero Sauce.
Plus a side-dish of fluffy soufflés.

The starter is a vibrant veggy ratatouille
With sashimi, tacos and tortillas.

But then there’s always vemuelli noodles,
Pommes frittes
Thana messala
And Enchilada Casserole
Covered in Romesco Sauce
Or Hollandaise
With Falafels and couscous.
Then Neapolitan Ice Cream souffled Erotica.

All impossible of course.
But don’t we love
The sheer seduction of those Words.

Paul Butters

© PB 28\4\2020.
Food, glorious food. Haha
Apr 27 · 1.0k
The Upside
Paul Butters Apr 27
Covid 19 is shockingly lethal,
Killing thousands all over the world.
We are imprisoned in Pandemic Lockdown,
Confined to our homes for seemingly endless days.

Yet these clouds have silver linings.
No more daily social drinking for me.
Complete control of what I eat.
Time, oceans of time, to get my house in order.
Time to reflect and write.
I might even get
Into good shape.

The skies are clearing too.
Much less pollution
From factories and cars.
China can be seen from space
Free from smog.
Animals are returning.
We saw a squirrel in our close the other day
For the first time in twenty odd years.
And the gulls have come inland
For more food.
Chaffinches and robins on my lawns
And foxes even bolder than they were before.

All this is showing us:
There is another way.
We don’t have to ravage Mother Earth
Chop down the trees
Or fill the air with smoke.

Nor do we need to classify us all
As Patricians or Plebs:
Iniquitous inequality.
Or make Money our God
Like modern Midases.

There is indeed a better way.
Which begs the question:
What will it take to make the human race
See sense?

Paul Butters

© PB 27\4\2020. (Slightly amended 28\4).
In these trying times of The Pandemic.
Apr 25 · 174
On Being
Paul Butters Apr 25
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.
I just took a break and...
Apr 22 · 135
Supreme Being
Paul Butters Apr 22
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.
As my friends would say, another "deep one". ;)
Paul Butters Apr 19
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.
As we endure the Covid-19 Pandemic...
Apr 14 · 158
Paul Butters Apr 14
Whoah! A stinky ****
In an enclosed room!
Out we go…
To pure fresh air
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!
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

Paul Butters

© PB 14\4\2020. ("Fast fried food And coffee" added 18\4).
Just ONE of our senses....
Apr 10 · 156
Magical Music
Paul Butters Apr 10
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
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
Let that magical music play
For Ever.

Paul Butters

© PB 10\4\2020.
Let Us Play...
Paul Butters Apr 9
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.
To cheer us up....
Mar 29 · 186
Spring Springs Back
Paul Butters Mar 29
Forget our inglorious isolation,
Hiding away from terrors unseen.
I see a golden Forsythia
Outside my window.
Sunny daffodils and little blue flowers
Of  unknown name.
Bushes are budding
And turning green.

Bluebottles and bees have been buzzing
As birds flock about
Flipper flapping everywhere.

A barren, frozen desert
Is being transformed
Little by little.
We still have biting winds
Just now
But in the fullness of time
Warmer climes will re-assert themselves.

For summer is coming
As it always does.
No worldly woes will stop it,
Nor they ever will.
Nature has endless patience
And determination.
Sudden Spring is but the start
Of better days.
Believe it.

Paul Butters

© PB 29\3\2020.
Some light relief in trying times.
Mar 21 · 141
Coronavirus Pandemic
Paul Butters Mar 21
History is now being made:
One of the greatest plagues
Since Spanish Flu in nineteen-nineteen.
Self-Isolation is imposed
By those in lofty towers of power.

No sport, no pubs, no school, no restaurants…
Supermarket shelves all empty
From panic-buying shop-hoarders.
See that old lady stooping over her zimmer-frame,
Trying to spot any morsel that might be left.
A late-shift nurse cries openly
At the sheer selfishness of those
Who have left our stores a barren emptiness.

Our thoughts go out to all those victims
Of The Virus
And their families.
But also those forced home alone.
Are we not to walk in solitude soon
Even though we keep away from everyone?

Where will I go for Easter,
My kitchen or my bedroom?
We’ve been pushed off a cliff
Into a new lifestyle.
And it might last as long as
A Year.

Paul Butters

© PB 21\3\2020.
Hard Times!
Mar 16 · 259
Paul Butters Mar 16
How can anyone live for Eternity
When Eternity never ends?
It’s an objective that cannot be achieved
For it’s immeasurable.
Year after year might pass
But we never get there.

Space is the same:
Fly through a galaxy cluster
And you find more space
Then maybe another galaxy cluster,
Another after another, after another
Into Infinity.

Infinite Eternity:
Skies with no end
Never Ending
Teeming with countless stars.
Yet here we are
Incredibly marvelling that we can think
That we even exist
To see, hear and feel
A world
That’s nothing short
Of a miracle.
Paul Butters

© PB 16\3\2020.
Another "deep" one.....
Paul Butters Feb 4
Time to rhyme and shine
All will be fine
Give me some wine

I rarely do rhyming lines
Prefer lines of rhymes
Rhymes within those lines
“Internal rhyme”
At least in this time line.

The summer sun has been summoned
So don’t be glum there in your slum
Ignore the ****, have some *** and chat with mum
But don’t be dumb and talk with a plumb
Strum that guitar with your fingers or thumb
Let that music hum
Watch them scrum for a crumb.

Just can’t wait to get into a transcendental state
From words that have some weight
To lead us through the gate
To poetic heaven

Paul Butters

© PB 4\2\2020.
Poetic Heaven
Feb 3 · 262
Why I Write
Paul Butters Feb 3
I love music
But can only sing flat.
And I can’t play musical instruments
With their baffling array of keys or strings.
So, I try to write music with words.
For I also love to write.

Distant misty hills beckon my soul
To fly amongst banks of swirling clouds
Then up into the stars.

The impossible mystery of infinity intrigues me:
Beyond, beyond, beyond, beyond…
Endless stories unfold before us
(Yes, you can come too!)
Eternity that has no horizon.

I love to love
My love,
For love makes the world go round
Or so I heard.
I love all plants and animals
And people too:
All that Mother Multiverse has spawned
And reared.

Love is all we need
They sang
And they were right.
So let’s get loved up
With lorra loving.
Feel that love.

For that’s why I write.

Paul Butters

© PB 3\2\2020.
Back to Free Verse!!!
Feb 2 · 469
Paul Butters Feb 2
Repetition is the best petition.
Drive that refrain into your brain.
It’s my mission.
Driven on by Stewart Copeland the musician.
Drums and dance
Send me into a trance.
Transcendental music
Any way you choose it.

Repetition, repetition, repetition
Just as potent as nuclear fission.
Sometimes, for me, it’s just too much.
As crazy as Screaming Lord Sutch.
Yet here I make a telling submission
About the power of repetition
As beautiful as a painting by Titian.
A composition to appeal to your cognition
To get you into a better condition
Without transition.

There are four hundred and ninety rhymes
Of repetition
And that’s not something from superstition.
But I’d better avoid a war of attrition
Even with your kindly permission.
It’s great to prance
And have a dance.
I’m glad you’ve given
This poem a glance
To give its rhythms every chance.
My aim is to enhance
And cut through the boredom like a lance.

Poems are music
Poems are Romance
So let’s advance
Then make a stance.
That’s my position.

Paul Butters

© PB 2\2\2020 (first line written 31\1 then notes made 1\2). Final line added 3\2.
Inspired by Stewart Copeland's TV Series "Adventures in Music" BBC4.
Jan 18 · 147
Paul Butters Jan 18
Please don’t view me as white
Or working class
Maybe middle class
Or straight or gay
(I happen to be straight)
Or Leaver or Remainer
Believer or Non-Believer
Aristocrat or Commoner
Patrician or Pleb
Or Anything else.

Don’t put me in a box
Or file
Or stereotype.

I’d rather be Unclassified
Or seen simply as
A Human Being.

Paul Butters

© PB 18\1\2020.
Jan 14 · 209
Paul Butters Jan 14
Whatever you write, make it memorable.
Just as memorable as Ivan the Terrible.
No need to be incredible
Just make those words indelible
From that mind of yours
And also theirs of course.

I used to think that rap
Was not very good.
But now I see
Those rhymes so right for me,
And even raps that scan.
Yeah Man!

There’s always time
For a rhyme
Just let them chime.

These rhymes they staple things to your brain
To help you remember every refrain.
Things passed on by word of mouth
From Arctic regions right down to The South.

Remember, remember
That month of November.
Something that sticks
With each dying ember.

Keep aware of the power of words,
As musical as a flock of birds.
Do give in to the urge to write,
To make our day so gloriously bright.

Paul Butters

© PB 13\1\2020 (2). From jottings of 7\1.
Rap isn't *******. Hehe
Jan 13 · 145
Let's Go
Paul Butters Jan 13
Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.
Let’s have a really great show.
Let’s fly just like an arrow,
Faster than a sparrow.

We know we are the best.
Let’s put it to the test.
Prove we are worthy champions
From The South Pole to the Grampians.

Just see our motivation:
Our hope is our foundation.
We’re full of self belief
And going to cause some grief.

We know we are so great.
To play we cannot wait.
Once more unto the breach:
A win’s within our reach.

Paul Butters

© PB 13\1\2020. From a diary jotting 7\1.
Words! Rhymes!
Dec 2019 · 207
Paul Butters Dec 2019
We watch from space
Safe in our spaceship
As a small rock planet,
That has orbited it’s star
Over seven and a half billion times –
All those billions of its years –
Is peeled away
And eaten
By that very sun
That gave it birth.

Two and a half billion years before,
This star ran dry of hydrogen
And grew
From yellow dwarf to red giant.

Now, nothing is left of three of its worlds,
All engulfed by flame
As the sun grew
Into a giant ball of death.
All history is gone.
Nothing to show
For countless civilisations
That adorned the third planet.

But oh what’s this?
We spot a tiny spacecraft!
Must reel it in.
Examine it.

It has a name:
“Voyager 1”
Inside: a Golden Disc!
A Golden Record.
We can play it.
Images of hairless bipeds.
Ancestors from that third planet.
Sounds of animals and someone laughing.
Images of bipeds taking sustenance.
And best of all
More sounds
Of something called “Rock Music”:
A being called “Chuck Berry”
“Singing a song” called “Johnny B. Goode”.
For we have feet too
And it makes them tap.

Paul Butters

© PB 12\12\2019.
5 billion years hence, the sun will become a red giant.....
Nov 2019 · 181
Joe Public
Paul Butters Nov 2019
He lounges in his armchair
******* on a ***
And quaffing beer.
His eyes are glued to the telly,
Watching Corrie
Then footie
Before heading off to the pub.

He feels he’s earned his basic pleasures
As he checks his mobile
For emails and Tweets
And Facebook posts.

Comforts earned by slaving away
All day
For some faceless bureaucrat
Hidden away in his company’s
Ivory tower.

For this is Joe Public.
Ignore him at your peril.
He has lots and lots of mates.
And he is fed up of the “Nanny State”
With it’s, “You shouldn’t do this”
And , “You shouldn’t (or should) do that”.

He’s fed up too with the PC Brigade
Having already escaped the “God Squad”.
But he’s ****** angry
At simply being ignored.

You can keep Joe happy
With Celebrity and Social Media
And sport
And even “Pointless Quizzes”.
He avoids Education
To maintain his “Street Cred”.
But there will come a point
When he’s had enough.
And once that happens
His festering grievances
Will surface
Like killer sharks.

And if he joins a mob of like-minded souls
Who knows where that may lead?
Perhaps to Revolution.

So think on, my friend.
Take care of Joe.
Indeed of Every Joe.
For Joe could be
The Most Important Person
In The World.

Paul Butters

© PB 30\11\2019.
Nov 2019 · 394
Paul Butters Nov 2019
Did The Universe exist
Before it was seen
By us?

Some say you Are the universe
Looking at itself.

Chicken or egg,
Egg or chicken?

That mystery
Called Consciousness.
Macrocosm in a Microcosm,
Solar System in an atom.

We imagine all
So everything exists
Within us.


Paul Butters

© PB 6\11\2019.
I saw something this morning about "the universe observing itself".....
Nov 2019 · 259
Let's Face It
Paul Butters Nov 2019
Many take Faith in God
Or The Spiritual World
Or other Power.
It gives them Purpose
And makes them feel good.

I smile for them
In their Positive View
And wish them luck with that.

I hope they are right
In their beliefs
For I may benefit too.

But, let’s face it,
Science shows
That when we die,
Each one of us,
Our flame is totally
No-one lives forever.
Everyone dies.

We are reduced to skeletons
Or scattered ashes
(Unless kept in an urn)
Or in some other form
Of “preservation”.

These are the facts
From which
We cannot escape.

All the more important then
That as the cliché goes
We make the most
Of what remains
Of our Life.

Important that we Love all living things
And do our best
To Achieve all that we can,
Aspire and Succeed
For a better world
And for The Common Good.

Paul Butters

© PB 3\11\2019.

(Two more lines added to 4th stanza 4\11).
Been thinking again...and talking in the pub with Norman Stevens, who may claim an "assist" here!
Oct 2019 · 408
Autistic Adam 2
Paul Butters Oct 2019
Hello, Autistic Adam here again.
When I was a student
They taught me
That Autistic kids live
In a weird world of their own:
A place of mystery
Too strange to describe:
A bubble universe
Cut off from “normal” folk.

I couldn’t picture what Autism was
Until, to my surprise
I learnt that I myself
Am Autistic.

So hard to describe,
But I can’t read those social cues
Or innuendo.
Do you really like or love me?
Or are you being polite
Even two faced?
I cannot tell.
Does a coffee mean coffee?

Tell me to jump
And I probably will.
For I take things literally.
You say, “I’m in trouble!”
And I think you really are!
Be careful what you say.

I’m so full of fear, anxiety and anger
Yet cannot tell what words of mine
Might anger you.

I cannot understand women…
But oh, that’s normal!
But seriously,
People are baffling.

I have no girlfriend
Because I cannot tell
Between (them showing) interest and “being polite”.
The Dating Game is way beyond
My comprehension.

I’ve never asked anyone out
As I wouldn’t know where to take them
Or how to behave whilst we’re there.
Relationships are way beyond me.
What on Earth is that about?
I need a Rule Book…
If she kisses me
Should I propose?
Just don’t get it.
Better get a dog
Or cat.

I am a fictional character
As you know.
But I’m sure I’m a typical “case”.
Even my creator
Has his own Autistic traits.
There’s much of him in me.
And no I’m not referring to God here,
But who knows?
Maybe S\He is Autistic too
To some extent.

Paul Butters

© PB 18\10\2019.
Hello Again!
Oct 2019 · 177
Autistic Adam
Paul Butters Oct 2019
I’m Autistic Adam.
Sorry for not looking at you.
I cannot stand seeing stares.
Just cannot look.
Sorry too for playing my electric guitar
As you try to talk to me.
But if I didn’t like you
I would have the speaker switched on.

Please don’t talk too long,
As I must have my tea
At seventeen hundred hours:
That’s set in stone.

And then I must attend
To my collection
Of football cards
And memorabilia.

After that I’ll read my maps
And study facts
In peace.

I will not change my schedule!
The mere thought of that
Fills me with dread
And terror.

I cannot come to the party
You have arranged for me.
Just don’t do parties
Or “social events”
Or people

I’m very much the lone wolf,
Which reminds me:
Dogs and other animals
I love
With a passion
And obsession.

Give me a walk with a dog
Any time,
Or a cat to stroke.
But never
Try to make me change
My day
In any way.

Paul Butters

© PB 30\9\2019 (2).
I have some Autistic traits and I have worked with many who were diagnosed with Autism. So creating the fictional chatacter Adam was quite easy.....
Oct 2019 · 202
We Have To Talk
Paul Butters Oct 2019
We have to talk,
Talk right now
While the time is ripe.

It will be difficult
For both of us,
But we have to grab
The bull by the proverbial horns.

We’ve let things drift,
You and I.
We’re in a rut,
I hear you sigh.

We keep our secrets,
Both of us;
From one another,
There’s the rub.

A relationship stuck
In the mud.
Your loyalty questionable
I have to say.

Sorry if I’m wrong
But I must declare
I’m pretty sure
Your eyes are elsewhere.

I don’t know where to go with this.
If only we could “kiss
And make up” as they say.
But it’s not as easy as that.

We must come clean
With one another,
For what’s a relationship
Without trust
And honesty.

My friend
Just what is going on
Between us?
Or have we reached
The End?

Paul Butters

NB this poem is pure fiction, from my imagination.

© PB 30\9\2019.
It started with just a hook line....
Sep 2019 · 631
Paul Butters Sep 2019
At five in a morning they scavenge about,
Punters at a car boot sale
Searching for bargains with torches.
Why the lights?
Because it’s still dark.
Why dark?
Because it’s SEPTEMBER.

September: the month when the kids go back
To school.
When bowls goes indoors,
Snooker starts;
Cricket draws to a close,
As bad light stops play.
Premiership football into its second month
And Rugby Superleague into the Playoffs.

Telly programmes that have run all summer
Grind to a halt
And Winter TV takes over.
“Question Time” is back
Along with parliament,
Though Boris soon closed it
This year!

The nights get longer,
Minute by minute
And soon those leaves will turn
That lovely golden hue:
Ironically the mark of Death.

Thoughts will soon be turned to Christmas
As we steel ourselves
For another Winter.
Halloween and Bonfire Night
Are coming soon.

This year we have “The Brexit Deadline”,
A new distraction
Drawing our eyes away
From the eternal passage
Of time.

Paul Butters

© PB 23\9\2019.
Autumn Time
Sep 2019 · 185
Life's Mystery
Paul Butters Sep 2019
The sun shines into my lounge:
Golden reflection
Making me feel good.
I glimpse blue skies
Through front and back

There is something beyond all this.
Something going on.
I sense an atmosphere,
Smell the aroma of
A universal force:
An energy

An all pervading mist
That permeates my life:
A haunting sense
Of spirit.
Something beyond.

We are but tiny chicks,
Covered and warmed
By mother’s wings
Soothed by ethereal music
And songs from heavenly choirs.
Whispers winnowed through those windows
While a hazy sun shines through.

For now I bask
Under the glow
Of that warming orb.
High thin swirling clouds
Tempering the heat.
All is peaceful
And serene today
As life’s long mystery
Drifts on.

Paul Butters

© PB 16\9\2019.
Aug 2019 · 256
Hot Sun
Paul Butters Aug 2019
We love our balmy summer days
But you can have too much of a good thing.
The sun can ****
But even in England
It can get oppressive.

Until a storm last night
It was relentlessly hot
Humid and stuffy
Under a sultry sun.
Hard to breathe and
So difficult to sleep.

Now it starts again
As the cloud burns back
So the sun shines bright once more.

They say it won’t last this time
As Atlantic Weather sweeps in from The West.
They’d better be right
For enough is enough.

Paul Butters

© PB 28\8\2019.
UK reord breaking hot summer!
Aug 2019 · 619
Paul Butters Aug 2019
A massive moth outside in the night
Flings itself at
My bathroom window.
Another Icarus
Sorely tempted by the electric light within
My house.

A swooping vulture
It tries again and again,
Fracturing its fragile wings:
Battering itself to exhaustion.

Perhaps it curses some Moth God
And feels a failure in life,
Totally frustrated
At not being able to reach its imperative goal.
Not knowing
That had it succeeded
It would now be

Paul Butters

© PB 25\8\2019.
Yes, I took my annual bath. hehe
Aug 2019 · 684
Mythical Media
Paul Butters Aug 2019
I walk to the pub or club,
Talk with folks,
Go play table tennis
Or shop.
But apart from all that chat,
Where do I get my “World View”?

How do I know what’s going on
Outside my little comfort zone?
I could even be another Jim Carrey
In some “Truman Show”,
Being filmed for some TV soap
That I’ve never seen
By Big Brother cameras everywhere;
Feeding off fake news
About the universe outside.

For everything we “know”
Comes from TV
And our mobiles
And PCs.

It could all be as false
As Trump says it is,
If he really exists!!!
Where is the Truth?

Will a No Deal Brexit be a catastrophe
Or a breeze in the park?
Are our “Enemies” really in the wrong?
Is the wider world anything like
It’s painted
On TV???

The con men, and women
Probably have us
In their pockets.
So all we can do
Is be as vigilant
As we can
And hope
That true Reality
Will be detected
At last.

Paul Butters

© PB 19\8\2019.
Reality where are you???
Aug 2019 · 1.5k
Unreal City
Paul Butters Aug 2019
Running the gauntlet down Midchester Road,
A veritable suburb of Gleethorpes City,
You pass a line of house-castles
Of the well to do.

But don’t be fooled
By what you see,
For I know someone
Who lives there.

And he will tell you,
Of bountiful gardens
Stripped bare
And concreted over
So that families can park their fleets
Of expensive cars.

See those conservatory extensions
And widened pavements.
A lady poses,
Doing her best
To emulate the Kardashians.

Money attracts
No end of thugs
And dodgy dealers:
Swarming parasitic wasps
Around the honey ***.

Nights of drunken revellers
From the local pub:
Swaying from trees
And kicking cans about.
Boy racers tearing down the road,
Music systems booming
With a mindless
Moronic drumming.

“Where has reality gone?” asks
My despairing friend.
They have their money
Their riches,
Expensive toys
But few of them are Happy.

What happened to “Goodness” and virtue
And dreams of Utopia?
Where are the heroes
Inventors and creators?
Instead we have a world of celebrity,
In which true talent – even genius
Is ignored and undervalued.

“Where are we going?” my friend exclaims.
Things get worse and worse,
The world all in reverse.
For it’s “Unreal City”,
Far from pretty.

So have a think,
Don’t let yourself sink
Even further into the mire.
Just get real,
You know the deal,
It’s you I’m trying to inspire.

Paul Butters

© PB 2\8\2019

(with help from a bloke who lives in such a place. Same town as me).
Open, honest and raw methinks.
Jul 2019 · 439
The Purpose of Life
Paul Butters Jul 2019
Since ancient times crowds of men have asked:
What is the purpose of life?
Me included.
Since my later teens and into my sixties
I have wrestled with this question.

To me, it was never about wealth or status.
People waste their time
With such things.

So what should we do
That is Really Good?
WHAT is “Good”?

For me, Life as such is Good.
What use is the Universe,
With its sprawling galaxies
Of fire, rock, dust, water:
Incredible vistas
Shock awe
Eternally Infinite
What use without
A Witness?

We are that Witness,
But should we be much more?
And all I can think
Is to cherish all that lives,
As life itself
Is the most wondrous thing
Of all.

Our purpose then is to nurture
Life at it’s best:
To make it better and better:
Stronger and brighter
More intelligent
With more Love and compassion.

Some will say
Why ask?
Extraterrestrials may have
Another View.
We may be but bacterial infestations
To be cleansed away.

Yet other “Aliens” may well agree
With every word I type.
And like many of us humans
They may be warning
That we must take
Much better care
Of this Paradise
We call Earth.

I call myself a “Lifist”
A believer in
Christianity at it’s best
(But Not it’s worst),
And other Religions too…

So let’s take the best
Of these Beliefs,
Nurture Nature,
Love Life
And just
Get on with it.

Paul Butters

© PB 31\7\2019.
Amen (a longer poem than my usual).
Jun 2019 · 623
Paul Butters Jun 2019
Beautiful Sylvain valleys and grassy savannas sooth my soul,
As here within my compact brain-cave
My mind wanders
Though a Multiverse
Of Realms.

From unfathomable gorges and deep down oceans
Up to soaring skies,
My inner eyes take in
Vistas of Infinity.

Imagination has no limits
Being a blessing and a curse.
Endless dreams of gold and honey
Opposed by fears of monstrous evils
Too horrific to ponder here.

My Id keeps churning up all manner of memories
And creations of the brain,
While in the background
Music plays
Punctuated only
By my Inner Voice.

Words, words keep welling up
From subliminal springs
Deep within my head.
Words, images, sounds
Feelings, tastes and smells,
Reality processed and reformed.

Reality recreated indeed
In finest detail,
A confusion of sights and sounds.
Give me those balmy days,
High in the hills
And low on the plains.
Let me bask in glorious sunshine,
Take a slumberous siesta
Then quaff that golden nectar:
Any brew will do.

Lets be kings and queens
Of the poetic landscape
Enjoying all
That The Muses
Will sing.

Paul Butters
© PB 26\6\2019.
Sing, Muses, Sing!!!
May 2019 · 295
Paul Butters May 2019
Do not take glory from conquests and wins
Or climbing stairways into ivory towers.
Rather, take glory in Mother Nature’s work
And glorious sunrises and sunsets.

Oh those sun-down colours: reds and golds,
Deep purples backed by azure blue hues.
Every sunset unique
Like every swirl of clouds.

Yes every sky is different.
My mind makes pictures from those clouds
Except on days of formless, fathomless mists.

Beneath these skies
We have a lovely vista
Of trees and savannah.
Satellites show us a wondrous world
Full of amazing sights.

But best of all we have
And animals
Of all kind.

Folks with whom to share
This glory
The real glory,
Every day we waken
To greet the new bright day.

Paul Butters

© PB 29\5\2019.
Wakey, wakey!
May 2019 · 249
About Being
Paul Butters May 2019
Being or not being,
Existence or no existence:
That is the fifty-fifty question,
The flip of the coin.

Everything is down to this –
Pure chance.
A celestial bet.

Yet can non-existence exist
Without existence?
Was it all inevitable?
Mathematical formulae
Beyond the mortal mind?

There may be some answer here,
To this cosmic riddle.
But it’s way above
My intellectual scope.

We can choose
Or grow
Our Gods
And hope for spiritual

But fully knowing
What it’s all about
May never be achieved
No matter how hard
We try.

All we can do is make the most
Of what Lady Luck
Has spawned
To us.
Thank Goodness
That we are here,
Take care of our world
And hope
That Life will last.

Paul Butters

© PB 24\5\2019.
My obsession....
May 2019 · 245
Paul Butters May 2019
Our bright blue world
Shines across space
A beautiful beacon
That shouts

A sphere swathed in clouds
That when seen from the surface
Present endless shapes
Which change from minute to minute.

Shapes never the same thing twice
And on a misty, murky day
Totally formless.

Below these clouds and mists are further clouds:
Of leaves on lofty trees
And flocks of birds.
Swarms of insects
And dust storms in the desert.

But in the greater scheme of things
Ours is an ocean world
Bathed in water.
A Paradise of trees and grass
Dotted with a vast array
Of animal life.

A planet clothed in forest
And flowery meadows:
Providing oxygen for all who breathe.

So all I have to say
Is please don’t cut those forests

Paul Butters

© PB 8\5\2019.
To The Future...
Apr 2019 · 572
Paul Butters Apr 2019
Feelings of fear, anxiety and hate
Served us well
Back in ancient times
When sabre toothed tigers threatened.

Those adrenaline rushes
Meant that we survived
Through taking flight
Or standing to fight
Like demons.

But in modern times
When physical threats are rare
(Though still too many)
We must Avoid
Such negative emotions.

For Fear can make you
A rabbit in the headlights:
Chronically anxious and depressed.
Or it can turn you
Into a snarling animal,
Snapping at everyone.

On both Arrakis and Earth,
Fear is the mind-killer
And little-death,
To be faced down
And then forgotten.

For we must, I repeat, cast aside
These negative feelings
Of fear and hate.

Instead we need
To nurture
Every budding
Of Love

We must empathise,
Be compassionate
And Loving.

Above all,
We must Love.

Paul Butters

© PB 13\4\2019.
Apr 2019 · 516
Paul Butters Apr 2019
You are right my friend:
The World is full of evil,
Full of inequality
Poverty, crime and fraud.

Of endless cruelty by inhuman humans
Fuelled or fed by drugs
And a lust for Money.

Radicalised robots rampage everywhere,
All brainwashed and conditioned
By social media.

They slump over their mobiles,
Looking for Pokemons
And their next fix.

We know there has to be a better way.
But how can we re-educate
These seething masses?

How can we snap them out
Of their reverie,
Filled by Celebrity
And sugar?

I call myself a Lifist
And Humanist,
As I cherish Life in all its forms – except wasps!
And I Love People
In spite of all their wicked ways.
Love’s Power lingers in my heart.

But how do we get this message across?
In the good olde days
Religions ruled
Through Fear of Hell
And worse.

For Science has changed all that.
People no longer Believe
In Anything
Except Money
And Power.

All You Need is Love
Is what John Lennon said.
So why are we waiting
For people to listen?

Such a simple message
That you know is right:
Love Life.

Paul Butters

© PB 10\4\2019.
We keep trying...
Mar 2019 · 255
Play Those Words
Paul Butters Mar 2019
I wake early in the morning
And start to play with words
In my head

Can’t help myself:
It just happens.

Words are instruments in my orchestra.
Let composition commence!

Alliteration adds to my message
As assonance drops a sonic ****.
Let’s add an occasional rhyme
To help the verse along.

Music from the Muses
Makes me swoon,
Then I click my cursor
And sound-like words
On a mat appear.
Please don’t groan
Or even murmur.
I hear the sparrows
As they twitter and chirp,
While I just sit here
And belch and burp.

I must be addicted
To poetry.
But all I can say is,
That suits me.

Paul Butters

© PB 31\3\2019.
Can't help it!
Mar 2019 · 1.7k
Me, The King
Paul Butters Mar 2019
The World is ruled
By massive corporations
And nations.
By Trump, Putin and The Queen.

But I say again:
Only I have ownership of My Life.
For I am The King of My Mind
And, from my point of view,
When I die the Universe Ends.

It does not matter to me
That when I go,
Life goes on.
What use is that
If I’m not here
To see it?

Even now
What do I care
About what goes on
In Ivory Towers
And murky corridors of power?

Maybe it’s my Whisky
Or Autism
That informs me I am King.
And yes I’m being self-centred.
In my Matrix I’m “The One”.

But you’ll get no apology
From me.
Yes, I’ll be polite
And try (a bit) to comply
With rules of etiquette.
But don’t be fooled:
My self esteem keeps growing
As I shake off the shackles
Imposed by a society
That seeks to make most people
Little more than
Corporate slaves.

I may appear to be a “nice man”
But underneath that mask
Is a heart of steel.
For I am The King
Of My Life,
On Planet Paul.

Paul Butters

© PB 30\3\2019.
Encore! Back on "Planet Paul". (I have added that to the poem now).
Mar 2019 · 376
Death, Afterlife
Paul Butters Mar 2019
Death, afterlife?
But I think we are **ed.

Paul Butters

© PB 25\3\2019.
Mar 2019 · 1.5k
Paul Butters Mar 2019
You can’t beat that musical beat,
From tinkling triangles
To blaring horns.
A quick ditty
Or grand symphony.

Music can mould mountains,
Oceans and plains.
Make you feel any emotion
Or atmosphere.

When songs and poems marry,
Their offspring are awesome:
“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality…”
Mercury magic.

Those rhythms run like chugging trains.
They fight pitch battles
Within our brains.

Drums keep beating,
Guitars whine.
Ever repeating
All through time.

Chuck Berry with his rock and roll,
Aretha Franklin, Queen of Soul.
Elvis truly was the King,
Want some crooning?
Play some Bing.

Beatles, Queen or Stones,
Who really cares?
Roll over Beethoven
Bach or Lennon
On your dancing squares.

I know that rap can give you the blues,
But there’s so much music
You’ve got plenty to choose.

Musical memories adorn our minds,
Warm associations
Of nostalgic times.

Paul Butters

© PB 4\3\2019. Last stanza added 6\3\19.
Let the band begin to play...
Feb 2019 · 3.9k
Paul Butters Feb 2019
In my late teens I would wonder
What is The Purpose of Life?
What should I Value?
What is truly Good?

But now at sixty six it seems so clear:
Life per se is what matters.
The wonderment
Of selves
That know they are selves.
Of sentience married with intelligence.
The miracle we call Life.

At nineteen I said
That the First Priority
Was Survival.
I wrote a thing called “The Bedrock”
To grow this theme.
And what was it that had to survive?
It was living beings
Nurtured by Mother Nature.

I am a “Lifist”
If you will:
Cherishing all that lives.
Humanist Plus
And more than Conservation.
Health and Wellbeing
For The Common Good.
A touch of Socialism
And Equal “Opps”.
I coined the word “Positivism”
To sum it all up.

Is this all poetry?
Maybe not.
But the greatest poem lies all around us:
The very world and universe
In which we live.

Paul Butters

© PB 18\2\2019.
What it's all about... What I personally call "Positivism".
Feb 2019 · 297
Paul Butters Feb 2019
Be careful whom you talk to
And what you say,
For things can be twisted
Any which way.

These are troubled times,
That we all know.
It’s oh so hard to tell
Friend from foe.

I love to be open and express my self,
But some things can’t be said: they are not allowed.
We have to stay silent I’m afraid to say,
And be PC to fit in with the crowd.

Oh to be honest
And tell the truth,
Like it was
In the days of my youth.

Paul Butters

© PB 6\2\2019.
Freedom of expression.
Feb 2019 · 1.0k
Paul Butters Feb 2019
Black hole kisses
******* me out of myself.
Kisses wrapped in hugs.
Intimate moments at intimate times.
Memories to treasure
On a cold winter night.

We once played a New Year Game
In which you kissed a girl
Then swopped her with another:
Twenty or so kisses
To compare.

One kiss so wide
I could hardly stretch
To meet it.
Ending up
Trust me,
With the big fat unresponsive one
Too drunk
To even know
She was being kissed.

Recall one time being coolly kissed
A kiss that said
In no uncertain terms –
If you want passion
You’d better go elsewhere
My dear.

For kisses are like handshakes:
Some firm and friendly;
Others too hard
Or too limp.
The young don’t always get it:
Lettuce limp
With their customary hands.
Physical expression
A dying art
Like conversation
In this digital age
Of mobile phones
And Insta-Images.

Time to rekindle the past,
Go back to playing out –
And away!
Get mud ****** mucky
All gloves off.
Back to Basics,
That’s The Way.

Paul Butters

© PB 5\2\2019.
Jan 2019 · 2.8k
Oh Brexit!
Paul Butters Jan 2019
Oh Brexit!
Where is the Exit?
You can’t make your money
You Tory Grandees,
Nor can you
Remainer MPs.

We’re running right into a very hard cliff;
Before we get out we’ll all be so stiff.
There’s no majority for any option
And Theresa May’s deal is but a concoction.

Vote after vote and endless debate.
March twenty ninth is the Closing Date.
Can we escape?
I really don’t know.
The media are loving this pantomime show.

This sorry charade is filling the news,
We’re all sick of hearing everyone’s views.
Please get me out of here
I hear you say
Surely, surely there must be some way!

So come on politicians
Get your fingers out
And show these Europeans
We still have some clout.

If we can’t do that then just pack it in
And throw the whole thing right into the bin.
Whatever we do I’m just past caring
But I hope you’ll tell me thanks for sharing.

Get on with it!
That’s the yell.
For until we resolve this
We are in Hell.

Paul Butters

© 30\1\2019 (Written in the early hours!).
Brexit, Brexit, Brexit.......
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