i.

dark curves, branches of
a tree caught in a valley wind
of tangling breath.


ii

everything unwinds
summer pools into corners
weeps for
forgotten love.

iii.

this is a dark valley
no ocean, no sky of song.

iv.

night intercedes
lets its other-worldly nectars
dissolve, unclasps me from these
breaking seas.

Please do not Leave Facebook, my friend,
These storms will soon subside.
ReMOANERS will get used to “Britain Out”.
They’ll grow tired of making you feel
A *****
For voting to jump the sinking Euro ship.

Don’t leave Facebook
For Google will crash,
Bebo and Myspace will return
And the BitPound will plummet.
Latin will become the default internet language
As hackers rule the web.

Be afraid, very afraid.
The consequences of Leaving would be dire.
But if you Stay here
In the ***** of the Facebook Family
You will be safe and secure
And eligible to claim
Your complimentary cuddly toy.

Paul Butters

© PB 25\6\2016.

The time comes!
Whispers from seashells
Claim much to be done.
Already the shadows seem tall.
Darkness grows bold
The Sun falls old,
Tired by the sight of all.

And as the watcher slumbers
Stars peek around the curtains
Once drawn tight by the light of day.
Their time to shine and show mankind the way.
But mans gaze is glazed, eyes distant, far away.