My arm is called the epic list
Displaying the anthems of my life
One by one

I've lived these moments
Heard the music loud and clear
These melodies will forever live
In the basement of my brain

Falling into the depth of my mind
I dig it up with my hand
Revealing the traffic

I'm addicted to the melancholy
No matter where I travel
We all carry a bag

I've lived these moments
Heard the music loud and clear
These melodies will forever live
In the basement of my brain

-AJT

I drive and drive and drive
Down this dimly lit road everyday
My tires anxiously roll down the poorly paved asphalt

I never know what’s ahead of me until it’s arrived
And when it does, I steer through and around the perilous obstacles
Obstacles that never seem to cease or give me a break

Fear is constantly in my ear, pleading for me to pull over
But there has to be light at the end of this dim dim road
So I drive and drive and drive

Right now bright sunshine blinds us to the sense
That we all live in a nebulous mist of uncertainty
Only knowing that eventually everyone Dies
After witnessing the miraculous wonder of Existence.

Eternal Infinity is impossible
Yet so too are finite boundaries
That only last for seconds.

There must be an Ultimate, All Powerful, Supremely Intelligent Being
Somewhere
We would think.
But is that possible in an Infinite Eternity?
And would any such being really be Omni Everything?

So we soldier on
Keeping ourselves amused.
Watching out for any clues
As to what this is all about.

Paul Butters

© PB 26\12\2022.

Was he a good child?
I mean good at being a child?
Was he good at play?
And was he loyal to friends
come what may?

Could you tell by the bruises,
his scrapes and cuts?
Was it obvious by his defiance
and by his reluctance
at the close of the dance?

Was he a good child?
I ask because I want a man
who’s good at living,
who knows his own priorities,
a friend who will stand by me
long after the music ceases.

So tell me,
was he good child?

To live a life unscathed
is not to live at all
the nature of existence
means learning how to fall
how can you know what's out there
if you never jump off the wall

I pick up my pen
Like it's an anchor to the living
Oh to be a fool in love with death