They say music is forbidden
How dare they?
Didn't they know that life has its own music for those who listen,
The wind that brushed against the trees
The raindrops washing over the fields
The beautiful waves the hugs the shore
A child's laugh, and a loved one's voice
Imagine a world filled with silent
No melodies, no sounds
Only quiet
I see it gray, not even black or white
Without music, or colors so bright
God gave us gifts, he gave so many
Like love, music, and days that are sunny
So don't shut your mind and say it's forbidden
Open your heart, and just….. Listen!

I once fell asleep,
to pleasantries of sound.
As the ribbon slides,
it painted color vibrance.
An emotional luminance, that made,
the soulless whole,
and the blind blissful.

Sleeping to strings,
felt like death.
Not the regretful kind.
It felt as if laying,
in the field,
staring at the bountiful sky,
as seasons pass eternity.

A melody of,
exuberating melancholy,
was infectious.
As if my body,
gave into sickness.
Now its still,
in joyous null.

Let breath subside,
slowing to a faint whisper.
Sink into a nothingness mind,
drain all to slumber.
And listen to Prélude.

your soul is a chosen landscape
charmed by masqueraders
and revelers
dancing under the moonlight
in a minor key
with a certain sadness upon
their glimmering cheeks
stardust kissing those hands
that caress the side of your cheek
your mask, removed
bathed in some azure glow
eyes, bright and intensely
staring, beyond just yourself
but something deeper
and more meaningful than ever before.
to know you, without your mask
is like knowing why the moon
sits in the sky as she does
or why the birds fly
or how the water on the shore
pulls forward and backwards
bringing in and out creatures
and memories of past lovers.
there is something in us
buried, warm, alive
that speaks to me when I see you
it whispers to me in another language
that I cannot yet understand
impassioned voice
intently seeking my attention
so that I may look upon you
and fear nothing any longer.
a song, you are
the universe, inside of you.

Oh let’s sing
Church bells ring
Dingaling ling.

Sing out loud
Boldly and proud
Enormous crowd.

Hear those chants
You debutants
Some breathless pants.

Poetry starts here,
Perhaps with a beer
Ask Shakespeare.

Oral tradition
An ongoing mission
So start the audition.

A memorable rhyme
Lasts for all time
Let’s make it chime.

Free verse is still fine
Bring in the wine
And vary the line.

Who cares if it scans
You grammatical fans
We don’t need your plans.

So free up your souls
Whatever your goals
And loose those controls.

Yes let your heart sing
A bird on the wing
Tingaling ling.

If singing’s your thing
Think what you’ll bring
Tingaling ding.

Paul Butters

© PB 7\9\2018.

I need to be alone for certain periods of time or I violate my own rhythm.

Mr. Piano Man how your
fingers rain down on the keys
dancing a somber ballet
capturing the feeling of being empty
like those bottles underneath

Here Mr. Piano Man
the next drink is on me
while we sift through debris
of our melancholy

Every note stings
every chord bleeds
woe is you
and
woe is me
play
Mr. Piano Man
a song to our ennui

Let it rain Mr. Piano Man
let the storm hammer the strings
lets swim in the puddle
of whats spilt underneath

Oh Mr. Piano Man
What is that I hear?
That note that was just hit
it sounded rather queer
there is no room for happiness
at the bottom of this beer

No! NO! Mr. Piano Man
I don't want the sun
go back to stormy waters
to where you had begun

I thought you a friend
I thought we allies
I thought we understood
the sounds of demise

Mr. Piano Man how you so betrayed
with your songs of love and spring
every note my heart aches
every chord a bee sting

Mr. Piano Man this is my goodbye
I am leaving you now
please don't cry
I am going to my new friend
Mr. Bartender
How do you do?
Give me an endless bottle
and another drunk to talk to.

If to you music is Euphoric
Then to me you are music
Like a needle in a groove
My heart kicks like a drum
Double petal
              Metal
It's almost mental
So good I'm off tempo
Lost in an ocean of bass riffs
Based
Cought by your waves like a music castaway
Overcame by your frequency
I could change the station
Hum a different tune
But it would be no use
I'm addicted
As if hearing music for the first time
All I can do is close my eyes
Let my ears guide my wayward heart
As I fall in love with you

Your voice is music to my ears,
Your presence is my favourite song.
Making me feel so happy,
Taking away all that's wrong.
What would life be without music?
And what would I be without you?
Both would be so miserable,
Just not the same, it's true.
Your melody attracts me,
I know your lyrics by heart.
I'll dance to your tune forever,
We'll never be apart.

We laid in the grass
In the park by the school
Listening to the music
And the laughter from our friends
As the tears rolled down my face
All I could think was
How lovely it would be
To be in your arms
Instead of under them

I believe it was the sawdust of summer when I found your voice in a shadow of a song it reminded me of my past hurt. You sang so beautifully of lilacs and photogenic water, you build harmonies powerful enough to save angels in a storm.

Quickly I caught on and held tight to your butterflies you called lyrics. You spoke of love like you had a doctrine in it. I thought for men love was a learning curve. You proved me wrong. You did not just create music and magic you birth colors out of sound and called them stories.

You blurred the lines between reality and fantasy. I bet your music is similar to the way God speaks. I bet you discovered a guitar inside of a black deity and the piano inside of a white devil's broken heart.  

Prince, I bet you can play anything even the fossils of flowers.
Your music is an endless drug, a purple high. Listening to you made me feel like all four seasons cuddled up with a kiss.
Tell me when did you get tired of playing love songs?

When did balancing the moon and a microphone become all too much for you? Who choked the life out of your vocal chords? ****, I would give almost anything to hear you live again! To wear your songs in my ears like Heirlooms.  Oh Wait, I think I get it. Is this how you go beyond means of self to teach us dead silence is music too?