Astral architecture hangs on the balance of my once fragile mind, now unbound and open to the potential of the Penrose Stairs that I climb. Infinity, I thought, was an innate idea man was not meant to understand, because if the universe is in fact infinite, into what does it expand?

Standing at the precipice of epiphany, teetering at the very cusp of clarity, it came to me in a monumental moment of sibylline singularity:

It expands into itself.

The thought was too profound to perceive, too ravenous to be satiated. Could this be at long last, the answer for which I have waited?

I realized that consciousness operates under a similar uniformity: the brain won't outgrow the head, but the mind will outgrow the body, and our echoes will radiate across the endlessness of existence, for all our forgotten frequencies are oblivious to the concept of distance.

We are all limitless beneath the veil of this perceived reality,
but only there are we human, and only then are we free.

When I am gone
One will take my place
If I am lucky
With my silent liaison
Between source of all things
Two will

This is my hope
Fickle dopamine drizzle
Upon mon dreary friend
I will squirt that stuff everywhere
Then hope some more
That a mess it wont make
Lest a smile you doth crack
In all of your seriousness

Then my mission
To raise consciousness
Will be complete

OD on L O V E... and try to see
We're meant to love
Meant to feel pain
To feel happiness
Love is just a word that makes every emotion into a list
Follow me through the distance between us two
Let's slither down our trust
Until it doesn't exist
Until the rules melt between our finger tips
A bed in the middle of the nothing
I don't try to not fit in with the ocean

Keep me

My emotions go crazy
Preaching the peace within me
But you know how make my craziness punch a hole on the wall when you upset me

Let's sail away from the factors
Suffocate me with your presence
Make me think I'm your only one
I know it's just for the next few experiences
We are only 19

How can she talk about a tomorrow that hasn't been written

But I'd live what I've created in my mind with you... only you

Tag me in the pictures you smile in

So that I have something meaningful (only perspectively) to smile at

I know this me drives me away from you

Just acccept this swing of words before they erode inside my head and into my memories

Just love this part of me

There is something awry

I can feel it
as I step into
the thick and tense
stifling and sinister,
suffocating ether.

I have a peripheral sense
of an occluded slumber,
a disturbance.
Begotten by me?
I can only hope not.

Haunted by something unknown,
unseen but not unheard.
A sound, a whisper, a chill
Ghastly squall
The rush suspends my breath,
captivates my thoughts,
hurries my pulse;
throbbing and pounding,
in my dizzy and cluttered head.

The door has closed.

Impulse and instinct
drive my body
but it is dark,
         never-ending,
    surrounding
Me.

Perturbation reaches up
And grips my very being;
strangling my conscious,
operational will.
Numbing all perception short of
foreboding and dread.

My entranced, mortal corpse
stumbling over my own hastened direction
that it already knows.
Scrutinizing and bellowing
an audible, unmistakable
laugh
which freezes me again
with crippling petrification.

There is no escape.

Now face to face
as I turn to confront it,
stare to glare.
Menacing and perilous
it consumes me.
      Devours me.
Immortally imprisoned by
              It.

Burn sage
          Pineapple sage
Read books on massage, potpourri and herbs
And never forget to
        help   one another
        On dishes, on dreams, thoughts in a stream-
ing consciousness consciously
         love   one another
And never forget
Why he came

Telltale signs of paranoia ***** at the hackles that run from head
(to heart)
down the spine
        drown the mind
Psychotic neurotic autistic artistic
Imagination whirls like wind through the pines and
The hair along my spine
        Is standing

Yesterday morning I woke at 4AM again
And once more my mind got churning.
I juggled with some words in my head,
Composing free verse on how I write my poems.

I wondered whether I should grab a pad
And write.
Or even get on my laptop.
But I made myself go back to sleep,
Forgetting it all.

So here I am,
A day later at 10.30AM,
Pouring out these verses:
A sort of Stream of Consciousness.

No thought of structure
Or metre
Or rhyme.
Just emphasising certain words and phrases
By giving them separate verses
Of their own.

Something I learnt once
When reading a book in Pudsey Library
About how to teach kids to write poetry
An easy way.

Unfettered by considerations of metre or form,
You can express yourself freely,
As deep as you wish.

Just let your emotion
Or Philosophy
Run free.
Let your words cascade
Over those shiny pebbles.
Babbling along through winding willows,
To crash over waterfalls
In a crescendo of sound.

A stream that sparkles in the light
Of sun or moon (and stars),
Wafted by scents of abundant flowers
And sappy cut grass.
God's Grandeur radiating all around.
Enjoy.

Paul Butters

Couldn't reach for the horizon today
Conscious but in a deep slumber
Jabbed by my mistakes refusing to fray
Calmed the chaos down to eery silence

I woke again with the loudest chaos
And the now demonic deafening silence
Gnaws at me from far far across
Consuming my horizon in defiance