the garden holds
an aromarous display
of flowers
sprouts of tulips
with their
caressed petals
bringing life
to the dirt they were
grown from

all planted
with a purpose
someone wanted
to see them bloom
wanted to see all
but the dandelion
the pesky
****

I am the dandelion
plucked
by the child's hands
given a purpose
for I sprouted without one

here, mama
look, I brought you
a flower
I thought it was
just as pretty
as you!

smacked
to the ground
"youre saying
I'm as ugly
as that hideous
****?"

the one
that never goes
away
the one
that shows up
when you want it the least
stealing
your sunshine
stealing
nutrients
from the tulips
and roses

in the garbage
with an old
banana peel
and empty containers
of yourt
I hear the child
cry

I am sorry
to only be a burden
I am sorry
I could not impress
your mother
I am sure I will be
one of many
unsatisfactory
gifts

I did not ask to be here
a mistake
a pest
never appreciated
only causing
trouble

I am the dandelion
the child is me
won't you let me
grow
freely

And I'll wait for you.
You will park your car on that same, our  place.
You will be late. I will always understand.
And I will never be angry.
You know that.
And I will kiss you until the Purple candles burns out
And while the phone battery withstand.
You will talk and I will keep mine palm on your forehead.
I'll tell you stories when You dive in me.
You'll ask me what I'm thinking.
Attracting of the souls and suffering.
You drape yourself with blanket and light up a cigarette.
You were wrathful by my uncertainty.
It's chilly.
We open a can of beer.
It is difficult to cope with fear.
Don't be scared, everyone is afraid.
You ask me what I want, Ameli.
I want to lie down and be silent
Until you turn to me and whisper "love me"
Until the pillow is lost on the floor.
At dawn I open the window.
You give me a toothpaste and take me to the sandwiches.
You'll ask me if all of this was important.
And we both know
That it was.

My Muse takes me to peaceful cool pools,
Under suns and moons.
Exuding stillness through picture-view tunes,
Beneath the sky’s fine glittering crown jewels.

A poem is a statement, a speech or a song,
From twittering birds to the crash of a gong.
Some are short and some are long,
They sound like The Beatles and Louis Armstrong.

A song, a song, we can’t go wrong.
Let it play amongst the throng.
A hit that goes to number one,
To serenade the fit and young.

Those harmonies are with me now.
All I can say is Wow, Wow, Wow.
Songs of Love and chants of Hate,
Words of Hope and tunes of Fate.

Come on you’ve pulled, let’s have a date.
Time for dancing, I just can’t wait.

Paul Butters

YOU MAY LEAD A HORSE TO WATER BUT YOU CAN'T MAKE HIM DRINK,
THAT'S BECAUSE THE POOR ******'S NOT THIRSTY,
A FOOL AND HIS MONEY ARE SOON PARTED,
ESPECIALLY AFTER HE'S JUST ****** FARTED.

YOU CAN'T MAKE A SILK PURSE OUT OF A SOW'S EAR,
THEY MAY NOT APPRECIATE THAT ANYWAY IN TYNE AND WEAR,
A BIRD IN THE HAND IS WORTH TWO IN THE BUSH,
LISTEN MATE, I'M QUITE HAPPY WHEN SHOVE COMES TO PUSH.

AS YOU MAKE YOUR BED, SO YOU SHALL LIE IN IT,
I DON'T MAKE THE BED BUT STILL GET IN ****,
BEAUTY IS IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER,
MUST HAVE BEEN UGLY BECAUSE GOT A SLAP WHEN I TOLD HER.

PERHAPS ITS TIME FOR A MAKE-OVER FROM GOK,
BUT MAN IN SWING DOOR IS STILL GOING TO BANGKOK.

My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming;
I love not less, though less the show appear;
That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming
The owner’s tongue doth publish everywhere.
Our love was new, and then but in the spring
When I was wont to greet it with my lays,
As Philomel in summer’s front doth sing,
And stops her pipe in growth of riper days—
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
But that wild music burthens every bough,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
    Therefore like her I sometime hold my tongue,
    Because I would not dull you with my song.