Time is a mysterious thing. One we think too little or too much about as if it was either an extraneous concept or a recognizable one but never simply an acquaintance. We fear to gaze in to its dark eyes for fear of what we’ll see in its untamed structure. Perhaps we fear the absolute freedoms of it in how all its courses are never underlined by incongruous moments such as once that hunt our very existence. Or maybe we’re jealous of how youthful it stays while we slowly deteriorate to our graves as it watches with indifference.


I wish to give time a gender so it fulfils all my assumptions of it. Perhaps it’s a women, gentle and eloquent; with a heart that grounds the most feral of things. Her touch is knowledge and wisdom but also all things unknown. She is sculpted like the goddess praised while her love burns oceans from existence yet she watches alone from a distance quite unreachable. Lonely everlasting. Nonetheless her soul is cruel and unforgiving; her betrayal unexpected. Her expectations to high that even the most eligible of men would not dare attempt such a futile conquest for to even try would be to fail. However her compulsion is too powerful to disregard so no man sits ideal.


Perhaps it’s a man with a will that is ironclad. His grips too powerful for even the greatest of empires to resist so all chose to bend for fear of breaking. He rules like he makes love, with intensity that shatters all the women underneath him but they still come back for more for his touch, his magic stroke. Non who have been touched by him have ever resisted or those who have were swallowed by the tide that was his fury. Yet his heart is gold and he cares more than he expects as his gifts last eternity and from the sweetness of it,  just a moment.

Delicacies of darkness,
Intricacies of energy;
Witches of woe
Insinuating that nothing we pass is past,
As all beginnings were long since begun.

Protecting an abnormality,
That would rather be condemned,
By self-centered ambition of men.
An insanity that turns her right, round again.

Now if now only.
Living by wick and glee of natural ability.
You would come and dare,
Old sentimentality and whimsicality,
Rampart of myths and misconceptions.

To indulge in mischievous play
Under the indigo sky,
By the light of a spiral of far fire.
The journey starts by stealing hearts
If only now you would come I should be happy.

So you would conquer the world.
Do what Napoleon and ****** tried to do.
Take all our lands
And submit them to your Law.

But can’t you see?
You’ll never win their hearts.
Some will passively resist you,
Whatever that is.
And others will welcome you with open arms
Whilst waiting for the chance to strike.

Worse still
Your very own “folk”
Will grow green with envy
And plot and scheme
To bring you down.

The higher you get
The nearer that precipice you creep
And the greater your fall.

The bigger you are
The easier target you become.

Paranoia will annoy you,
But traitors will do worse.

Take my advice, my friend
And stay within your patch.
Have no “retreats from Moscow”
On your CV.
Better to win hearts and minds
By making sure
That you are truly Good.

Paul Butters

I’ll do you like your
Eyes
Ask me to,
As relentlessly
As your
Smile’d
Wish, come every our
Encounter.

I’ll do you, like the –
Plastic, porcelain, and
Polymer
Scenery –
Holography and
Hidden drawers,
Once a sin and
Twice a cross.

I’ll do you, as
I’m, and a first,
If only an
“Object.”
I know it, but you don’t.
You love it, but I won’t,
Because you’d only burn,
Come knowing I’m, “taken.”

On a new conquest, I embark
Travel light
I found the temple in the dark
Wet, yet warm
Beautiful stems
Curl around my arm
Deeper I go
The water does flow
I feel it in the walls
I hear all of your calls
Carrying on, through the dark damp walls
I found the spot, The spot that has eluded all
A trophy in the form of a waterfall
Cascades over me.

ah, enslave without compassion
bound ancestors you must impale
go seek and show no mercy
let those who escape carry the tale

all the sufferers bearing witness
to their ministers spilling their blood
staggered screeches from bleak recesses
regicide plotters bend to the dust

with unmitigated conquest and *******
trample them under your tyranny

slimy enshrinement brings into question
what's divinely lamented for
scatter populations with ruthlessness
let them choose sycophancy or sword

reappoint difficult commanders
for instigation unbroken awaits
kept in frenzy, they whisper confusion
never quite sure of their fate

with unmitigated conquest and *******
trample them under your tyranny

let the cowardly unlock the gates for you
to heroically claim what's inside
crowds you abhor kneeling in wonder
all the world is your ****** bride

punctuate the roads with tollgates
***** monuments to broadcast your name
all your banquet's guests are your enemies
entertain them with one another's shame

with unmitigated conquest and *******
trample them under your tyranny

with unmitigated conquest and *******
trample them under your tyranny
under your tyranny

Beauty is a war
that must be fought.
She will not
surrender herself
easily.
Gather your strength,
attack relentlessly.
In the end,
you may win
a bit of her
for yourself.
Only do not
imagine total victory.
This war rages
without end.
  - mce