Like a shock in the night
I woke up with a fright
I am seven
Not even eleven

I am a child
Wearing a three piece suit in cheese
I got older you see
Mind stayed young even though my first love stung

She was seven
She was smelled like candy heaven
I dreamed to kiss her
So shy, I always missed her

How can it be?
So old in the knee
Yet those in control report back to me
I am seven, no more and no lessen!

I was sure I was eleven
Or maybe even forty seven
Yet here I am on earth
Not even in heaven

Beauty has faded
In the likes of me
Yet Stella is a pretty as ever can be
She was the one, even at seven

That sent my heart straight to the heavens!

My demons swim.
George's can fly.
Mabel's can shoot
Jimmy's won't die.

My sorrows are deeper.
Judy's weigh more.
Fred's chained him up.
Anne's heart was tore.

I can breathe lighter.
(Ah, that's where you win
From the contest of sorrows
One cannot rescind.)

I don’t mean to blaspheme,
So please don’t scream.
But if God supports marriage
Then why is He single?
Is having a wife
Just too much strife?
Imagine a Lady of Power
Waiting there
When he comes home at such a late hour!
“Sorry Love, I’ve been creating a universe,
A thing you just can’t miss.”
“No you haven’t” she says,
“You’ve just been on the ****!”

MMM So God is quite wise!
Yet He’s no time for guys “loving” guys.
Nor ******* girl –
That makes his toes curl.
And non-believers, they must go to Hell –
Well so the ancient scriptures tell.

Remember he’s a “jealous God”,
Who much prefers to be on His Tod.
No Zeus, Jupiter or Thor for Him,
And Satan’s prospects are very slim.
Can God be really so old fashioned?
So bad tempered and so impassioned?
A Super Intelligence He’s supposed to be,
Every Existence He can see.
Knowing all and blindingly smart,
Ultimate Master of Science and Art.

Could God be a Woman?
Now there’s a thought.
Yes that goes all against
Everything we’ve been taught.
The greatest Creator might well be a Mother.
If that is so, then adieu to Big Brother.

No matter what, God is Love –
Looking down on us from up above.
A mind that’s thinking on greater things,
While S\He protects us with bright white wings.

(Inspired by a conversation with **** Noble over a lunchtime beer).

Paul Butters

It's the morning of Christmas and I awake to see.
No Christmas tree nor a Christmas present for me.
I sit down and I wonder what happened to Santa Claus.
All I could think was that he must of been stuck at one of the stores.
I made some breakfast and as I sat to ate.
I realized that I am the one that fell and broke my plate.
I'm thinking to myself that this just isn't my day.
No matter what I do there's not one person who cares what I say.
It's time for the family and I hope things get better.
If I didn't know for myself, I'd say that Santa is fatter and a lot more redder.
I can't wait to get home and just forget this whole day.
I guarantee if you were in my shoes that you'd be crying and trying to pray.
So be happy with what and where you are.
Take advantage of the moment and keep it trapped in a jar.
If you let it go then I'll feel bad.
Just knowing that you're on the path of the one that got me mad and sad and I will remember this all after I write it down in my brand new pad.
The one that Santa brought me in his big red sack.
If I seen the big red fat ******* I'd do more than give it back.
I'd tell him to shove it and shove it up his ***.
So good day and Merry Christmas to you all.
Make sure that you stay safe and don't drink and stumble and continue to fall.
** ** ** and a Merry Christmas.
That's not just from me but from all of us.

Your shining eyes excite:
Those pupils, fathomless black,
That grab, and drag me down
Into bottomless pits;
Like magnets drawing me into deep radiance.

Your swirling, tumbling hair that makes me dream
Of cascading feathers wisping all over my face,
As leaning over you draw closer,
To kiss me with your moist, shimmering lips.

Those lips that pout their promise,
To cushion mine in hot embrace,
And pull me down a never-ending tunnel:
So deep to Ecstasy’s black space.

Your body is a flowing land,
A symmetry of mounts and vales:
Seductive wiggling curves,
With endless
Tapering
Legs.

Yet beauty’s bettered by your warmth,
For looks are just skin-deep,
It is your heart that I adore,
Your Love I wish to keep.

We should be soul-mates, you and I,
Of this I’m very sure.
With Hope, and Luck,
And not a little pluck,
Our Love can long endure.

If This doesn’t Pull her nothing will!

PAUL BUTTERS