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What is left to say
About our humdrum daily lives?
Monday to Sunday all year round
In time manufactured by mankind.
Monotonous mazes of standardised building blocks.
Daytime TV all timetabled and scheduled
The Interweb
Media meditation
For brainwashed, mindless zombies:
Heads immersed in mobile phones
Or faces bathed in television light.

Crime ridden streets await us
When we venture forth
To pre-appointed places
In a world we call “Routine”.

Little wonder then
That Imagination soon takes over
At least for me.
Heading off to Planet Paul
For flights of fancy
Fuelled by Star Trek
And Battlestar Gallactica to name but two
Of my favourite shows.
For I love Space
And anything else that lies beyond
The dreariness
Of the Here and Now.

Why do you write?
They ask as if Confession is required.
I stumble on my words
Trying to explain
How I simply have to write.
For I never can stop dreaming
And once I dream
Then I simply have to share
Whatever I’ve dreamt
With all of you.

Paul Butters

© PB 18\12\2018.
On that affliction we call "being a writer".
Dreams.... I can't remember the last time I had a vivid dream.
As I truly feel that I'm not in understanding with myself.
Maybe I should pull out my brain, set it on fire and brand myself with the thoughts inside....clashing lines...and visions of skies, broadcasted using my mad thoughts as a mental projector.
I feel as if I'm in the wrong sector, as passer my hecklors are causing me more problems then my spider injectors.

How does one truly come to know themselves, and have those vivid thoughts, and vivid dreams, where they can imagine  anything up and get stuck in there own time machine.

How does one know themselves so well that they can feel the pushing and pulling of positive and negative energies.

How does one know themselves so well that they know they were blessed by being the different seed but I know I have to struggle now for the future generation that's inside of me.

Dreams are like one in a million, but sometimes I get bits and pieces of an important image, as we will always remember the 5th of November, the gun powder, treason and plot.
For I too will have a vengeance for myself...A vendetta that's never forgot, because to truly understand myself I have to search my mind, my soul, and body.
And surely you don't expect to grow mentally, physically and emotionally without a fight.
To truly grow I have to push past points of my comfort zone, and experience uncomfortable and radical situations, with no expectations of thoughts and patterns, no blank lines and visualizations, because I'll get mad at myself and make my own accusations.

As I try and understand myself more and more it frustrates me because I understand other people more than myself, consequently the rules are broken and in my mind I'm nearly floating....washed out like a flash flood, my thoughts actions, and words are over flowing, like a water sprout that was casted over the ocean.

As my would be dreams set sail on an empty horizon, like my thoughts crash like soundless waves on beach fronts.
I'm waiting to hear over whelming thoughts and ideas roar like lions fighting over who will be thought of first.

I have to train my brain to think with my spiritual mind.
To know who you are spiritually defines a person mentally, and depending upon how your looking in the mirror reflects on the person physically.

I'm indecisive like two babies playing tug o war.
I don't know how much longer I can be for sure, as long as I feel the timing of my soul mind and body align once more.
I hope I don't become depressed and mentally shut the door, before my true awakening, so I can walk the path to be spiritually woke, but I hope I don't consume so much Information and spiritually choke.

-Emotional Man
I survived the wrath of depression
once again
Was I too scared to cut deeper
for once
Was there not enough blood
To bleed
Was the blade too blunt
To cut
Were my tears too much
To see
I tried to commit suicide again yesterday, I just didn't want to live anymore. With everything taken away from me, every dream and anything I actually enjoyed... gone. My leg can't even move, but I guess surviving meant something for the future?
Laura 18h
And for a moment we got lost.
Lost in dreams and lost in wishes,
Lost in space and lost in time.
We got lost in each other,
In the endless possibilities there are
And what we could be.

But we had to get back.
Leave utopia behind and
Start being realistic again.
Face the odds and realize
That it's nice to dream for a while
But the further you go
The harder it is to come back.
broken dreams
like shattered glass
don’t worry
look at shooting stars
there will be new dreams
eyelashes, make a wish
blow out your birthday candle
you can have your cake
and eat it too
Written on December 16th 2018.
Alex 1d
I love the sound of rain outside when lying in my bed,
The pits and pats and tips and tats do wonders for my head,
A lullaby provided by the sky is all I need,
To wave away another day and plant a sleepy seed,
That tiny splash upon the glass is music to my ears,
As sleep takes hold and dreams unfold until the sun appears.
It's only a few months ago
never once had I written a
poem ever before In my life, but being Inspired to write through the very
sad loss of my dearest wife
In order to keep her memory alive
And keeping a promise made to myself began to write poetry, but learned by so much the review's that I got and reading poetry of other's
That they all help me so much In keeping my dear wife Helen's memory
Thanks to all, for you'll know who you are for keeping the memory of Helen so much alive ***
Bless Her Soul
Helen Mary Walker
1955 July 22nd - 2017 December 23rd R.I.P
Thanks to all for help keeping the memory of Helen so much you'll know who you are thank you so very much for keeping her memory and my dreams very much alive bless you all
I know that
you will never talk to me
But I imagine us together
In order to fall asleep
I live in the cloudy dreams
Where it covered my vision
From seeing these bitter world

My imagination
Is the land where nobody
Can disturb me
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