as the rush comes
on the dance floor
it envelopes me
beats rising up my spine
and we are all one pulsating
             beautiful body moving          
                           losing inhibition
              as we spin and writhe
           expressing ourselves
        to that vibration
embraced and surrounded
by the flickering
          tangible sparks
                light we can almost catch
                        in our fingers and mouths
                   eyes like stars
or closed in our
       own private mantras
entranced by rhythm
minds in haze
untouched auras
in colors a-blaze
scintillating in the dark

moved by our own
inner cadence,
we are all bonded
through
        electric notes
downbeats alive
in quickening liquid metal
We inhale that invisible
sense of smoky escape
no thinking needed
but soul's center awake

So
rescue me
at  least for the night
wrap me in bliss
just bring it on
          an accent of sound
                  as the dam bursts
          in spiritual ******
        of musical flow
as we re-connect
to ourselves
in angelic dark
               glow

My original spring was wound,
Tight as a Swiss watch.
The fore-finger and thumb
Of the nun turned the crown *****,
As only the Sisters could do.
Any subject could be converted
Into a lesson of the life of Jesus.
A plus sign becomes a cross.

     Even Jesus knew the angles
     To be a carpenter and Savior,

Grace and Faith kept time.

The Sacrements were frequent topics.
How many would we receive
Between Baptism and Extreme Unction?
After Confessions, I once asked,
Is it possible to sin between Penance and the curb?

     All things are possible with God.

You didn't want to die with a blemished soul;
Being responsible for more thorns and nails
Pounded into the emaciated, pitiful flesh
Of the one to emulate,
With Grace and Faith.

I was fervent in prayer.
I wanted to carry the Holy Eucharist
To the housebound or hospitalized;
Through the throng of thugs
Ready to defile the wafer.
I was ready to die a martyr,
With a benevolent, sober Jesus,
Guarding from the clouds,
Right hand raised like a Judo chop,
Blessing me, preparing me,
Protecting me with a corporeal force field.
Grace and Faith kept time.

I pined to wear the Altar Boy's Cassock,
Soutane-like, long and black,
Topped with the surplice;
To ring the bell, light the incense,
Hold the Communion Plate
Under Mammy's chin
As she knelt in supplication,
Before the Madonna,
My blessed Mother.

Did she envision me as a Jesuit,
Tending to the lame lepers
In the jungles of Peru and Africa.
Me, who issued forth from her.
Faith kept time.

The dark hour was closing in.
The spring was loosening,
Unwinding as I relaxed.
Marian sat beside me,
Thinking of our orders
At the drive through.
The Nehru-collared clerk
Slid the glass window,
Listening to our wants.
I offered her a napkin
To keep the crumbs
Of her little black dress.

its the fish in you wants to swim
and the angel who wants to fly
sadly most of the time you are a worm.

Everything is gone now, just a jack-in-the box that scares
money's already wasted, **** it I never cared,
as usual this life has leadened, sped up my sorry death -
a song written for the heartbreakers; sung upon my last breath

bloated and black, happiness not as it seemed
destroying the gift that for years I've dreamed,
she gave me her heart and I slashed it wide open
for its clear to see I cannot love, it's clear to see I am broken -

who needs love and it's pathetic excuses
a gnawing feeling both corrosive and abusive,
thy gargantuan question looms with a killer in it's eyes -
had I been in a relationship built upon lies?

Flowers of abnormality bloom upon ashes of mistrust
as my tortured soul frantically flounders in the dust -
down
down
down
the downward spiral again I am shoved,
forever asking if I can ever love, and in return be loved.

Human skin pigment ranges from pale yellow, cream, pink to dark brown.
There is no black or white.
Some African tribes are charcoal grey, but not black.
There is but one race, the human race.
Beware anything that Divides us.
We must Unite for the Common Good.
Welcome to Planet Paul.

The fictional “Prisoner” of the sixties said,
“I am not a number, I am a person.”
He also claimed he was a “free man”.
He shouted defiantly that he would not be pushed,
Filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed
Or numbered.

I couldn’t agree more.
Nor will I be labelled or classified.
“My life is my own”.
I’m an individual human being.
Not Working or Middle Class,
Nor white nor religious nor atheist,
Nor racist, sexist, feminist, chauvinist
No Tory, Liberal. Labourite, Corbynista,
Remainer, Brexiteer, Remainiac, Remoaner
Or whatever.
I don’t do labels.

We are each born as single living entities,
Without asking to be who we are.
All in the same “boat”:
A tiny planet on the far edge
Of a spiral galaxy.

My bowels work like everyone else’s.
I belch and ****.
From time to time I’m ill
Or injured.
A man of many moods.
I’ll live and die like everyone else.
For the bottom line is,
We need to Unite,
As We are All the Same.

Paul Butters