Within the fog and the fire
The heavy smoke blackens lungs
A locomotive derailed and unhinged
Once a steaming freight
But now a mess of twisted metal and flaming diesel
The dead lay silent and disfigured
Hypnotized by the blazing giant

Depression is when the clouds leave you for a while, but they stand, hovering, remnants of it leaked into the atmosphere, and if one little thing goes haywire, well, then it comes back. And hard. It is not something that can go and stay for a little while. It's always there, hovering, waiting for the right time to strike.

You and your wordless words - you
give them all to me when you
say you have none within you.
Your mind is a swirling pattern
of that non-existent voice, and
I am the comet, shooting through
your atmoshpere and becoming a
storm of fire, in delight as
words hit me. I don't know
if this will burn me up, but
all I know is that I love the
feeling of being on fire again.

Atmosphere pervades this place:
A subtle, spiritual background
So surreal.
Far from haunted manors
Or flashing disco halls.
Soundless surrounds ****** my soul
As I’m serenaded by serenity.
Peaceful plains becalmed:
Punctuated only by gently rustling trees
And the distant twittering of birds.
I cannot feel any force
Except some sublime emanation
Of peace and tranquility.
Satisfaction soothes my mood
As I make the most of these lingering moments.
So good to chill out in the snug
Of my local pub.

Paul Butters

You take up space & have a mass.
Matter made of various molecules & atoms
You are stardust
A result of massive explosions in galaxies
Are you completely gone?
According to the conservation of energy
which states that energy cannot be created or destroyed
but can be altered from one form to another
you’re a little bit less orderly
According to decomposition
a proccess where organic substances are broken down
into much simpler forms of matter
you have been recycled by invertebrates, fungi & bacteria
to help continue the circle of life.
It is impossible to know simultaneously
the exact position & velocity of your particles
And so you can’t be put you back together
But you’re back where you belong
Forever consistent in space and time
Back in the atmosphere

The last boats of the evening
whistle secretly across the silver nightwaters
like some lonesome lingering men
expecting their daily last-minute pleasure.


©2016 Alex Bex - www.alexbex.net

These kids celebrate the life
of the dead street pigeon.
Dark streams down their brown faces,
they intone their private lamentation-
One exposes the corpse
to his little circle, holding it up
the wings stretched out.

©2016 Alex Bex - www.alexbex.net