It's up to you what's wrong or right.
It's up to you whether you want to fight or go quietly into the night.
It's up to you whether you want to take this life by the *****
or fall in line behind the wall.
This is your life.
Your body.
You have the power to choose.
Whatever you decide,
it's up to you

The yellow man burst into the tea shop
With his bride in his arms and his eyes full of sunlight
“Look at my beautiful wife!”
said he
“See how she glows!
Blessed is me!
For nobody knows
the bedazzlement of the glance
the electricity of the trace
the tenderness of the honey glazed lips
and fond stroke of the face
of the lover who is truly yours.”
And the gray man scoffed in odium
With a hint of despair
“Silly yellow man,
Don't you know
What love you boast is but a foolish affair?
All good things come to an end
And therefore I recommend
You put away your heart lest it be crushed”
The yellow man paused and looked on with pity
“Gray fellow, which maiden
Hath done such damage upon your soul?
Why are you repulsed
And your heart unladen?”
And the gray man looked down at the floor
With an air of shame
“Love is but an unfair game I fear
In which I have been cheated
And love has been unkind to me.”

Choices, so many choices:
Nordic noir or French comedies.
Bluegrass but not country.
Right wing or left wing:
What is useful and what is not?
Random violence doesn't help the plot.
Summer but not autumn
Moss gardens but not lawns.
The grass isn’t always greener,
Or didn’t you know?
British country houses or French chateaux.
Fishing for trout but not bass.
Sailing but no boats with gas.
Cycling but not motorcycles.
So many choices on which to pass.
San Francisco but not Las Vegas.
The Caribbean but not Florida.
Watching films of the desert but not being there.
Admiring the stars but not flying there.
Impressed by the horseman but not the cavalry.
Settling for Ubuntu but too tired for Kali.
Lumping things together is a bad recipe.
Living in Boston but not New York.
Eating peas with a spoon and not a fork.
Living like Dickinson but reading Walt Whitman.
Staying inside is nice; but run outside, shouting if you can.
Watching Downton Abbey on TV but not the screen.
Drinking mocha latte coffee but not tea with cream.
Loving travel round the world but hating the trip.
You can go exploring with your eyes but not your lips.
Deciding what's worthwhile isn't hard; just be resolved.
Critics tell you this or that, but can’t decide what's art or trash.
East or West Coast—why get involved?
Shuttle between them in electric hot rods.
Don't get bogged down with picking a god.
Followers always end up dead and all that matters
Is where they bury or burn you or scatter,
Whether you are declared saint or sinner.

But if I were one of them I would reconsider:
You can be a prophet, the calf that’s golden,
If enough of your votes are stolen.
You can even rule the world
If you ruin lives, steal countries and hurl
Thousands of lies online. These are the stakes.
"Lawyers, guns and money": that's all it takes.
The only real price will be your soul.
But do you believe in it when you get old?
Better make a simple choice.
Speak simply in a honeyed voice.
I read the news today,
Telling me which words to shout,
Make people ignore that time is running out.
Learn to step on them and which crimes to flaunt.
And how to get everything I want,
Then I can enjoy it as the storms rage round,
Live on the mountain as the sea waters drown
Everyone else—do I only need to save myself?
I've got a bombproof mansion underground.
I can hold out fifty years in such a spot....
I would be safe and comfortable,
But then, maybe not...

Covid 19 is shockingly lethal,
Killing thousands all over the world.
We are imprisoned in Pandemic Lockdown,
Confined to our homes for seemingly endless days.

Yet these clouds have silver linings.
No more daily social drinking for me.
Complete control of what I eat.
Time, oceans of time, to get my house in order.
Time to reflect and write.
I might even get
Into good shape.

The skies are clearing too.
Much less pollution
From factories and cars.
China can be seen from space
Free from smog.
Animals are returning.
We saw a squirrel in our close the other day
For the first time in twenty odd years.
And the gulls have come inland
For more food.
Chaffinches and robins on my lawns
And foxes even bolder than they were before.

All this is showing us:
There is another way.
We don’t have to ravage Mother Earth
Chop down the trees
Or fill the air with smoke.

Nor do we need to classify us all
As Patricians or Plebs:
Iniquitous inequality.
Or make Money our God
Like modern Midases.

There is indeed a better way.
Which begs the question:
What will it take to make the human race
See sense?

Paul Butters

© PB 27\4\2020. (Slightly amended 28\4).

Don't worry the weather, my wayward woman,
for the seas are much calmer this close to the beach.
I don't know where you are, or where you are going,
but roses will greet you upon your arrival.

I've read all your postcards from places you've travelled;
Penned with slang you pick up in the cities you stay.
I've packed up and took to a road of my own
-- just figured I'd write you to tell you I'm safe.

My sights have consisted of stars that we've counted;
Dust that bustles so freely beneath me;
Castaway houses with rooms full of boxes;
And people like you, who find comfort in change.

But I wouldn't mind a box we could live in --
different from these we've decided to leave.
But the past of a road paves the path that goes,
and I'm starting to see that a box is a dream.

So I'll dream a dream just the way you would dream it
-- of luggage and boxes of things you'll be keeping --
to always remind you of what we have chosen;
And that to be living, means constantly going.

I guess it is time to find something to look forward to.
I guess it is time to be reminded that not everything is falling off the edge.
I guess it is time to tap into hope.

I Guess... I Guess...

It is more than a feeling that I seek today.
I look forward to the time when I choose to be happy more than I choose to be sad.
A simplistic, cliche statement that speaks dividends to the current mental state of myself and others.
We look inside of ourselves and choose to look at the nuggets of despair that are over there,
Instead of looking at the joy that is on the other side.

I Guess... I Guess...

Life is more worthy of repeating than closing.
Doors that open might be more intriguing, but sometimes revisiting past failures can make you stronger.
But make sure not to dwell too long.
Balance the doors that are new and the ones that used to be present for you.

I Guess... I Guess...

Hope is a choice.
Hope can provide peace.
What do we put our hope in?
Where do our eyes rest upon when we look up to the stars in the sky?

Who provides us our daily bread?
Who irrigates our bodies with life?
Where do we put our faith in when the times decide to derail us off the tracks?
Where does the child go when they no longer have the bread they need?

When we gather up the provisions we need, do we take too much?
When we grab the stars do we take too many?
Are we using hope to fuel the fear that is festering deep inside?
When the stars are shining are we the ones snuffing them out?

I Guess... I Guess...

The time has come to choose true hope over falsified documents.
The time has come to let faith be a guide.
The time has come to stop hoarding the stars and take just what I need.
(I wonder what else I need?)
The time has come to take someone else's hand just to comfort them.
To show love and to choose love.
To choose life over death.
To show hope to choose hope.  

I Guess... I Guess...

I want more than a fine feeling.
I want more than a horoscope peace.
I want more than a past that I'm ashamed of.
I want more than a degenerating hope in things that will never give me joy.

I guess it is time to find something to look forward to.
I guess it is time to be reminded that not everything is falling off the edge.
I guess it is time to tap into hope

I Guess... I Guess...

I am lost, but I am too scared to be found...

You are not who you think you are.
Nor are you who you say you are.

Rather, you are
who you prove yourself to be

by the actions you take
and the choices you make.

When you gaze into
The darkness inside your soul,
It stares back in you.

Reaching for the stars...
Knowing they are the opposite of wars...
So silent in the sky...
Dancing so far and high...
My hand can only trace...
As they continue their pace...
What is behind that beautiful curtain of the sky?
Can someone there see me cry?
Maybe there is nothing but stars and space...?
But it sings beautifully with grace...
When we lose our hope in our path and road...
Then, we look up and see no load...
When we are hugging ourselves in the night...
That's when we notice the moonlight...
When we have fallen and been pushed to the ground...
When we lie there, we start looking around...
Only when we are running far away...
Do we think differently about what people say...
Lost in our own time...
Hitting our own hearts and stopping to shine...
When shall we learn to choose our emotions rightly?
When shall we stop to search for certainty?
Some things will never be certain...
But looking back at this beautiful curtain...
I also know that we all need our pillars of hope and certainty...
Love, peace, maybe even creativity....?
Just stop feeling home in that sadness and grief...
If you choose happiness you will taste that great relief...
But it's all in your hands and mind...
If you want to be rude or kind...
Just don't hesitate to cry...
It's better to let it go before you die...