It's horrible to realize you're
No different than any one before or after,
For the one you loved.
It's awful to see them
Treat someone else the same way
They treated you.
It's disheartening and heartwrenching
To see them brag about the new person
In their life
The way they bragged about you.

It's terrifying and it hurts so much
For them to show you you're not special
In their heart.

Nourish the minds all around.
Yours may lack a strong foundation
easily withered
Easily shaken- concussed.
But nourish the minds all around.
They will give your mind reason to thrive.
They will return the favor.
But if it's too late , the wisdom given to the minds will not perish but enter the everlasting cycle of apportioning to other minds.
Wisdom is knowledge.
lack of wisdom is lack of knowledge.

Broken humanity will often falter,
As it ponders which mold to fill in,
Ponders what it must alter,
Which path it must begin.

It is a trembling, cowering bird that hides
Within each of our hearts,
Somewhere in a dark corner it abides,
Made up of many broken parts.

We have the role of nursing the bird,
Bringing it back to its purest condition,
There is a fire that must be stirred,
A stunning, unbridled and pure rendition.

So you would conquer the world.
Do what Napoleon and ****** tried to do.
Take all our lands
And submit them to your Law.

But can’t you see?
You’ll never win their hearts.
Some will passively resist you,
Whatever that is.
And others will welcome you with open arms
Whilst waiting for the chance to strike.

Worse still
Your very own “folk”
Will grow green with envy
And plot and scheme
To bring you down.

The higher you get
The nearer that precipice you creep
And the greater your fall.

The bigger you are
The easier target you become.

Paranoia will annoy you,
But traitors will do worse.

Take my advice, my friend
And stay within your patch.
Have no “retreats from Moscow”
On your CV.
Better to win hearts and minds
By making sure
That you are truly Good.

Paul Butters

I slip between the crevasse that parts my mind.
Its an equal split from sanity to the obscene.
I am trapped in the middle, clinching on as the
precipice on either side begins to crumble.
If I slip, I do not know what darkness awaits me below.
I may even fall through to a place of pure white snow.
Yet I hang on tight, hoping for a tall breeze to lift me out.

A city of blinding lights
An archipelago of unearthed minds
Take away the tension
Let the creativity flow
No matter the darkness of this road we go
There's always a great story waiting to be told

If I had a mind that was truly gifted
I would choose to know peace
But how can peace live within sadness
For I know that there is not a moment without tears
Somewhere in the world
Somewhere close to me
The shine that made light now makes darkness
Yet is it to be every moment
Of every day
And every night
That we can be happy?
I was not promised anything
I did not ask to be born
I made no bargain
And in the contrasts of life
Night and day
Man and woman
Winner and loser
Love and hate
We find that we must conquer both
Or else perish into a world of madness
For it is those who cannot cope with reality
Who seek answers where sanity has abandoned them
But I understand my friend
Is it sane to be numb to the things that happen to others
To the things that has not happened to us
Is it sane to pretend that death is normal
Is it sane to shrug our shoulders as I have done so many times?
Because if it is sane then I am sane
And I weep because of it
Yet it is in the hint of madness that I find myself
For what I have been taught has strangled me
As many times as I have shrugged
Trapped on a path that I was unable to alter
Until now
And where peace may live I would at least visit
It is not promised to me only
I must share it with others
And I will lay upon not so still waters until the rain ends
Knowing that it will end as it has in the past
Because the will is not for my happiness always
But instead the strength to live between meaning and confusion
Between belief and disbelief
Between the moment I press upon the piano key and release it
For as the sound begins to fade I can sustain what may fade
Or begin again with another note that can be played
The same as the last one
Or one that is different
And whether pleasing or not
It is the fact that I can make the sounds from wire and wood
The same that I can make love from flesh and bone
And it is tonight that I would do these things with you
If only I had a mind that was truly gifted

There are three types of people.

The first type are the pawns,
The ones who follow the rules blindly.
These people don't often know that their being controlled,
It's rather sad.

Then There's the second type of person, the players.
These people know about the game,
And use their power to resist and control the game
In their favor.

Then there's the last group of people, the masters.
These people learned of the game called life,
And they don't like what they see.
They change the world to meet their ideals,
For better or worse.

I know were I fall in,
So can I ask the question?

Which is you?