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Paul Butters Jul 31
Since ancient times crowds of men have asked:
What is the purpose of life?
Me included.
Since my later teens and into my sixties
I have wrestled with this question.

To me, it was never about wealth or status.
People waste their time
With such things.

So what should we do
That is Really Good?
WHAT is “Good”?

For me, Life as such is Good.
What use is the Universe,
With its sprawling galaxies
Of fire, rock, dust, water:
Incredible vistas
Shock awe
Eternally Infinite
What use without
A Witness?

We are that Witness,
But should we be much more?
And all I can think
Is to cherish all that lives,
As life itself
Is the most wondrous thing
Of all.

Our purpose then is to nurture
Life at it’s best:
To make it better and better:
Stronger and brighter
More intelligent
With more Love and compassion.

Some will say
Why ask?
Extraterrestrials may have
Another View.
We may be but bacterial infestations
To be cleansed away.

Yet other “Aliens” may well agree
With every word I type.
And like many of us humans
They may be warning
That we must take
Much better care
Of this Paradise
We call Earth.

I call myself a “Lifist”
A believer in
Christianity at it’s best
(But Not it’s worst),
And other Religions too…

So let’s take the best
Of these Beliefs,
Nurture Nature,
Love Life
And just
Get on with it.

Paul Butters

© PB 31\7\2019.
Amen (a longer poem than my usual).
Yenson Jun 6
The Roman empire has fallen
sadness weeps bitter tears
how the mighty became poor old waif
and the west held their jamboree without ignominy
For once they were carried on shoulders in sedan trains
in pomp and ceremony the masters sought safaris and ruled lions
from Goa to Timbuktu the whiff of toast on marmalade n Darjeeling
jackboots and clipped voices rang in plantations n hymns in churches

The Roman empire has fallen
Tea two anti-depressants please  
Oh no no how have the mighty fallen
unwanted unloved we cry diminished glory
no invites to Continental parties no lovers in Casablanca
the dusky maidens as footstool are Doctors at the corner Surgery
those hunky dark torsos ferrying cocoa to steamers heading Cardiff
are now earning two hundred thousand grand a week and drive Rolls

The Roman empire has fallen
now we just drink Bitter all the time
the mighty s of the universe are now *******
come see the bullies in the school playground playing the Raj
let me show you a place where four in ten cannot spell enterprising
did you know when not in the Tropics some go for weeks un-bathed
shock and awe jealousy n envy is the new black making them so mad
old n young no self respect, no dignity and now only sad mad bullies
People of Romelu Lukaku.....joke...haha....Grow up you cant always have your way, stop being a spoilt self indulgent bullies, its a new world now. Stop blaming others for your mistakes and excesses, stop projecting your neurosis and complexes on others. stop being cowards, grow up and accept the fact there are others who do things better than you, stop your childish jealousy and envy, Bullying is cowardly, cheap, base, uncivilized and it demeans you and confirms that you are just weak and pathetic. There is no justification whatsoever for bullying. Improve yourself instead of resenting those that do.
Paul Butters May 8
Our bright blue world
Shines across space
A beautiful beacon
That shouts

A sphere swathed in clouds
That when seen from the surface
Present endless shapes
Which change from minute to minute.

Shapes never the same thing twice
And on a misty, murky day
Totally formless.

Below these clouds and mists are further clouds:
Of leaves on lofty trees
And flocks of birds.
Swarms of insects
And dust storms in the desert.

But in the greater scheme of things
Ours is an ocean world
Bathed in water.
A Paradise of trees and grass
Dotted with a vast array
Of animal life.

A planet clothed in forest
And flowery meadows:
Providing oxygen for all who breathe.

So all I have to say
Is please don’t cut those forests

Paul Butters

© PB 8\5\2019.
To The Future...
Sparrow Mar 7
Furnished rooms, refined cooling
An angry Sun, a helpless ozone layer
Lavish resorts, palatial homes
The Ents are silent in their prayers
Roaring turbines, whirring motors
****** waters, crying to be set free
Clicks and clacks, a touch and a swipe
Birds fall to the alien magnetic field
Travel the world, not fast enough
Dig and mine, crashing harbour wave
Fossils spent, air wears the smoke
Dinner is served on the tectonic plates

Every day the water becomes a little fuller to the brim
Every day the air becomes a little less thin
Every day the world becomes a little too big
Every day the land becomes a little less green
My second favourite colour next to blue.
But you've guessed what this is about haven't you?
Paul Butters Nov 2018
Who put the “sub” into “subversion” and “subculture”?
Was it the same people
Who built schools:
Those prisons
Where kids are tortured
And brainwashed
Into being “good” conforming citizens –
Factory fodder
Trained to sit in lines
Labouring at meaningless tasks,
Questioning nothing?

So still we are ruled
By Tory Grandees and Brussels Bureaucrats
Keeping us in our place:
Social Control
Over Job Centre slaves.

It’s the same the whole world over:
The rich wallowing in luxury
While the poor starve to death
Exposed to pitiless winds.

For once words fail me
About our Unfair World.
Children dying everywhere
While fatcats feed in a frenzy.
No wonder people talk of Revolution
And terrorist plots.
Our air is full of carbon
While trees are cut
For seas of palm oil.

We need to reconsider
What we do
In all our ways.
Enough is enough.
It’s time to nurture nature
As denizens of Planet Earth.

Paul Butters

© PB 23\11\2018.
Reflecting on current events.
JDL Nov 2018
Hundreds of years gone
With a few swings of an axe
Amber tears, so long...
So many ancient trees are lost each year. May this poem serve as both a memorial and a dedication to what has been lost.
Possum living Oct 2018
To one, a noxious ****, but to her the building block of civilization.

Her children would starve before trying another.

Eradicated by heedless consumption.

Their future is uncertain, but we can help them along.

One patch at a time.
Erik Whalen Oct 2018
Through a torn visage, I see the flame
One torch, by day, reflects ages hence
That spark, they say, can't be to blame
But many, still, keeps shoulders tense.

Man, sincerely, calls for homeland
But flame to mirror rends reflection bent
When man, in jest, sets sparks to woodland
The forest, torn, its visage now rent.
Chris Neilson Aug 2018
When your hair's like a wig
and all you hear is a pig

When you own a woolly coat
and your best friend's a goat

When the ducks are quacking
and your visitors are lacking

When you want a little fun
but there's little space to run

When your belly's not full
and your day's very dull

When the rain is pouring
and nibbling grass gets boring

When your field's too muddy
and you're fighting with your buddy

When your life's nearly spent
and you don't know where it went

You're an alpaca in a park
I trust they're well cared for but I do worry about the alpacas in my local park
butterfly Jan 2018
between the mountains and rivers
the city grow before my eyes
a tornado of dust crippled the forest
a monster of garbage swallow the seas
ignorance blinds the eyes of mankind
greed eats their hearts
they care not the mother nature
but power and egoistic desire
what is there left
for the next generation
when fish dies
before their mother's eyes
when animals are hunted
and gone extinct
trees are cut down
and left the barren land
what is there left
for the next generation
what is there left
Raise Awareness for Wildlife conservation and environmental protection
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