i play words like my violin
smoothly at times but harsh and rough when i forget how to play
forget what words to use
how my bow slides across
how too much vibrato can make it all sound fake
how hyperbole can make it all sound fake
motifs scattered throughout
taint the sound the words
with familiarity with nuance
with you my dear
there is no hyperbole
no vibrato needed
no need for such accenting
for you make my words
my sound smooth as chocolate from the get go


for i never understood what it meant for a kiss to be sweet,
until my lips met yours.
for i never understood what it meant for a person to be warm,
until my arms wrapped around you.
you were warm to me
accepted me even though every inch of you was scared to
was telling you to back down
and i cannot thank you enough for that

you say that your pieces are scattered
the truth is, so are mine
so lets let two perspectives persist and permit
a love that leaves lies behind and lets lips be
so that broken pieces on the floor can not be looked at as flaws
but as scores
as scars
of a past that continues to be made
only now, every atom of me wants that past to be made with you
but unfortunately my past is cursed. so, lets stay in the present.  
so that maybe our puzzle pieces when put together
present a picture

of us

in our own winter wonderland where the world can stop.
and we can love.
for i've discovered in all of our broken pieces.
that
I love you.

For the thought of your dreams my mind races
Mad dashs ,shocked faces
But to stare that glint by starlight drapped the caresses of your hair
I trip to find me on your line
Oh right beautiful fields ,waisted time
Your waist on mine
Just a taste , said at nine
we set pace after that line
..

Picture frames on baby's painted nails
Paint me in fame, she replied your insane
Washed face paint dowm drain ,she never kisses again
Her company other then other men is my brother then i move this pen
Words are zen , cherry flavored summer flows
Grass blues and sky growth
Twisted pages on saturn sing burns and we take turns on the wave frank ocean plays

Spoon me some soothing sounds.
Make me swoon though it’s not even June.
Croon beneath the moon
Amongst flowers in bloom.
For summer soon will loom.
Heat will hit us:
Boom!

No more gloom and doom.
See the Peacock’s plume.
Toast the bride and groom.
People passing from womb to tomb.
A Spring-cleaning broom
To clean the room.

What a boon.
A beach with many a dune,
Behind a cool lagoon.
Time to play another soothing tune.

Let dormant corms awaken
In the warm
Before the storm
While insects swarm.

Let babes be born
To fields of corn
In the early morn.

Blow your horn,
Your hair all shorn
Wearing nothing torn or worn.

Such fun to play with words like this.
For me it’s like a blissful kiss.
Not a thing to find remiss,
Or lightly dismiss,
Miss.

Well that’s the end of all my play.
So that will do,
At least for today.

Paul Butters

© PB 27\4\2018.

Fun at times,
I don’t own her,
yet she gives me those signs.

I play around,
knowing when her door is open,
yet I don’t make sounds.

Wish for more,
my mindset denies her,
yet I start a love hate war.

Moved around a lot
-Cockle-jocked kid
plastic with newness
Trailers dusty
roses blousy with thorns and white
pecked leaves mottled.
Resist these yards’ allure
avoid the
crackers’ friendly waves
Pedal to the Haven
piles of fill, construction
reduced tombs of left over
concrete
bricks mounds of playtimes
trenches in which to ****
off.
Trenches in which
mosquito larvae swim
skeezle-legged and
willow branches are
whips
pieces of drywall
soaked grenades and
wooden
are the guns.  
Summer haircut flat nest of
stubble
face and scalp burnt.   Enough
pieces of bikes to Frankenstein
one fine ride.
From the top of the hill
mawed youth
rumbles down to barrel
roll crescendo’d
stops.  Let the
good
times.
Close out the day draw its
petty dread adrenalined
Panting cuz you are
late and he said
six.
Sectioned eight
pink stucco flakes and
sweetened lead.
Tatty shades
shriven.
He’s a tar cracked heel
small white dot
white
blink
blot
thinks about a
lot, these yards
landscapes drifted, curled with
feet to face, conserve his
heat.

You keep lighting up my screen
But Im always leaving you on seen
I got games to play and things to do
I'm really not thinkin much bout you
I am busy, I got homies
You just ain't my one and only