I’m nothing coming through.
A ******, a let down.
I’m a plan turned mistake.
I slipped out into a world to be forgotten in it.
Cold, slimy, smelly, and stupid.

I’m the putty they use to fill the gaps of history.
The time between now and when.
A time where something, anything happens.
Walk on me, I’m here to move you on.

It feels as though we’re nearing the end.
Centuries before, fate was branded.
In its burned flesh we made our mark.
It’s come time to slaughter.
But we’ll be the squealers.

I’m coming through into nothing.
A mother abused by her young.
******* dry and sagged from their greed.
Fat, weak, and stupid now from gluttony.
Next winter will bring their snuffing.

So pull me out.
This pink portal.
Into somewhere I belong.
The nowhere we are right now.
The nothing we’re going to be.

I was told I didn’t need to know the Ingredients
For making a child with a heart of Gold
That they were born holding a Medal
Which said they owned everything and All
Of it was because they had convictional Purpose
The doctor would cry and bring a rose Flour
To thank the mother for Baking
An excellent batch of babies, Soda
Would be poured in champagne glasses, Salt
Sprinkled a top its head to spread like Butter
The flavours of intellect and it also Softened
The hearts of others around; old wounds Granulated
Smelled like caramelizing Sugar
Inside the room, the bodies Packed
Together to peer at the Brown
Strings of hair atop the child, who’s Sugar
-like shrieks of life broke open the Egg
Of love and made it taste like Vanilla
Its tears looked the most Semisweet
A dripping fountain of Chocolate
Fondue, be careful not to Chip
The teeth when it grows, it will grow Coarsely
Then, like jagged pebbles Chopped
With a dull knife; finally, assemble the Nuts
And bolts tight because this will hurt ,if
Not properly done, or simply toss away if the kid wasn’t desired

You were born of passion and intimacy
Your little soul was given shape when love was fresh and new
We didn't know it then, ignorant bliss we were in
But you were taking shape: creeping in like morning dew

The day we found your presence was one of joy and wonder
We had no idea how hard the journey, we would take it step-by-step
We looked forward to your coming, but we feared our imperfections
We did our best to plan ahead...but for new life, can one truly prep?

The weeks flew by, you grew and grew!
You were developing at an incredible pace!
Each tiny part was taking shape
First a heartbeat, then a face

Nine short-long months you lived in me
Our bodies knit together as one
Rumble, tumble, hiccup, kick
Never knowing if you were daughter or son

Then came the days of labor and travail
Labor of love, but painfully long
First in the home, then to hospital rushed
All for the moment you cried your first song

Music to my ears was your first little wail
"It's a girl!" was exclaimed as you were laid in my arms
My Melina, my sweetie girl, my precious one
From that first moment you had me charmed

They took you from me to clean you and warm you
Then brought you back to cuddle with me
Oh the agony when they found fault in your breath
And took you the second time from me

Empty arms in an empty room
It was a long, lonely night: that first night of all
I cried as I thought of how far apart...
Sepparated from you by dozens of halls

We spent several days waiting for you
Your recovery was quick, but felt so slow
The day we finally took you home
Made our hearts leap, skip, and glow

Now that you're here, there are no silent nights
My arms are filled with your ravenous self
But I would not change that, no not for the world
Though tired and insufficient myself

For this journey we've begun is teaching me much
I am selfish, impatient, and often unkind
But God gives more grace on this road of life
And your smile so sweet as you relax and unwind

I love you, Melina.

If you are identified strongly
you are living the programming
not living
but just existing in someone else's dream
Freedom is from everything -
including identity.
Why must we use so many words?
The programming is over loaded.
Overwhelmed with it's own faulty code.
Addicted and dying from it's own infectious vaccines.

Who can stop the insanity and be still?
No one knows the extent of the damage.
Why repair outdated toilets?
Demolish and replace.
I'm over stating the obvious
choice is change for
more than positives.
It's just here and now Truth.
In a body or no.
So What Is the difference. The difference
is just you. Or whatever you think
you are as apart from the whole of the rest.
You people persons are the stupidity we all fear
and only you hate. Everything
is madness and nothing feels sane.
The world Is ... what it's always been.

It is madness who's
Taught glands fill my mouth, I draw
Warmth from her *****

Only here till’ morning, so the night’s an open road and,
the beaten path only leads to mourning. An off-road traveler,
who escapes the chase of a pursuant sun.

Slow walking through river reeds.
A cupped handful of running water reinforces his state of being;
all but free.

Marathon of miles between, the first date on his gravestone and
the last number his mother reads at the bottom of his eulogy.
The hyphen shorthand for life and,

Missing the meaning through the seams, that connect his first day
to the day he leaves. An often-bereaved purveyor of shattered dreams,

Who stops to smile at every waving tree because,
even in despair he found belief beneath
the bared teeth of the machine trying to syphon from his peace.

A flower born from concrete.
Escaping through the cracked city streets;
out past the horizon line.

After the rain, just as the sun came,
after light years of planning and 9 months of travelling
- after the rain,
Herbie came

and landed fully formed, fully loved,
full of laughter, a master of light
a gifter of aromatic delight
- after that long night,
Herbie came.

He’d waited, biding his time,
timing his arrival beautifully
bang in the middle of the lunacy,
the happy family being built at Conolly,
(number six)
fitting right in, applying his tight grip
on the mum and dad who just don’t know when to quit.
Yes, Herbie befits this Butcher-family-mix.

After the rain
this Ray of grace,
this pilgrim,
this loving warrior from heaven
this beam of radiance came
and entered a place Herbie-shaped
in the heart of the Rob & Rachel space
with a seasoned, full of flavour Herbie taste
that will forever linger
here in the embrace of family Butcher.

Yes, after the rain, just as June flamed,
Herbie came.