captive audience listening
to the hornets pouring out of me
i was running fingers
listlessly down your face
and dreaming of acid rain
—a picture in my head
that refused to die

ever mindful
of the bedroom door
hinging on your aches
and unborn eyes
the reanimated heart
chimed
with the twisted shape
of what awaits us all

a rising overture
from behind the veil
warm, wet handed
in a bath of blood

As my spirit soared over
the golden, green landscape
the clouds tumbled and parted
revealing the sun's illuminating rays
onto the earth below,
shining into the windows of the dying
and their will to live,
I admired the peaceful beauty of
the flowing, pale, blue river
gave my blessings to the fisherman
gazing up towards the calm skies
in rocky waters,
rained sweet, soft candy
on the village children running barefoot
alongside the river bank,
the sun became an evening filled with
shades of cool purple
and midnight blue,
and the first of many stars
began to twinkle and glow
as the villagers began heading towards
the heart of the golden landscape,
each treading lightly among
the same ground their ancestors
once walked upon,
one by one,
golden, orange, and red lanterns
filled up the diamond, night sky
each set a glow with the memory
of a loved one's touch and smile
and made unique by
the messages written across
the slip of paper placed inside,
I brushed by and bestowed my blessings
and love,
for the journey of the souls,
once frightening and lonely,
now resonates with the warmth
of humanity's remembrances and love,
during the night of the
Midsummer's eve Lantern Festival for the Souls.

White room.
In the centre of it all, an overflowing bathtub, with lilies floating atop.
It's a beautiful, yet, unsettling sight.
The water continues to flow, drawing me in closer.

I cautiously dip my hand in.
The water is cold and ***** me in.
It's a blue place, shrouded in darkness.
Lilies float past me, but I am paralysed where I lay.

I close my eyes and breathe.
It's suffocating.
Where are you?
I'm cold.

When I open my eyes again, I'm in the same white room.
In the centre of it all, a piercing red chair.
It's ominous, but it draws me closer.
I breathe a little easier.

I sit down, my head in my hands.
I close my eyes.
It's hot, I'm sweaty, burning.
I open my eyes to the sight of fire, surrounding me all around.

I hitch my breathing.
It's suffocating.
Where are you?
I'm hot.

I open my eyes one last time.
A black room, with a photo of you.
You're smiling a goofy smile, just like you.
I trace the frame, remembering the past.

This eternal torture isn't too bad.
I get to see you every night.
But when I wake up you will be gone.
And back to torture where I belong.

Awkward silence
Vanitas still-life
Remembering I must die
Thinking about afterlife

Still-life painting
Symbols of death or transience
The same old story
Unique true glory

Attention to one more fact
I know I'm into this
I'm a part of everything
Even without feeling it

Memento mori
Painted bended blind
A friendly reminder
Coming across my mind

The brevity of human life
A proper masterpiece
No one can escape
Let it rest in Peace

There probably IS a “God”:
Some supreme power and intellect
Who rules the Realms.
Define your God, if you will.

There may be many gods around
Throughout the vastness of the universe
For us to pray to too.

Did God Create our Universe?
Who knows?

But what do I care?
All I want to know
Is what’s in it for me?
Will I get but a pittance
Of a few decades of Life?
Or will I live on in some afterlife,
Reincarnation or whatever?

This may sound selfish
But as I say,
I don’t care.

I resent the certainty of Death,
With every fibre of my soul.
Atheists give me no comfort here:
Only Religion gives some Hope,
Despite our history of “Holy Wars”.

So what can I Believe in now?
What Faith can sooth my soul?
Only Hope.

Paul Butters

Cooling tides
Air that envelops every last patron in a breathless stagnation
A banquet hall falling beyond the ends of the earth
Below all existence and still here unfounded, surrounded by void
Snow falls slowly around the great hall

Spirits of old and young alike alight into the room
Every inch melded admits a dark, endless night
Crawling down pillars, molten metals and fires
Still race in place like the glow from a hearth

Around a table laden, the hall great only mentioned in fables
Awaits the souls tortured and downtrodden
Years of abuse flying by but
As the clock strikes two we can see the sky's above
Just outside wrought iron windows, snow starts to build

Stone rough and hewn from mountains perverse enough
To harbor the worlds worst, unforgivable
Caringly lit only for the night
It all springs to life
Softly enveloping

From somewhere the notes, hopelessly golden
Begin to play
From corners of recessed and disfigured servants
All alleviated if only for the day

Palpable with every resource loosened
Hope is something we still cannot afford
Despite our differing degrees of punishment
We have resigned to unwind the centuries

Golden

The night is long, the table that decorates
This gilded hall, walls arching overhead
Is never left empty, every moment is filled with a subtle
Empathy, check the time

The seconds are passing, all the more quickly

I see the devil, pacing the halls
Lost among his own thoughts
He sees me and recognizes
We're both in the same place

Alone but not forgotten

On this holy night

And I've found out
It always ends, and every year
Comes and goes