“The hottest love has the coldest end.”
-Socrates

You were there. Like stardust ever dancing in the light as if infinity swirls to you. Your existence declines my being. You waived all presences, defying the mnemonics of what qualifies existence.

You were there—not now.

Before, we were strangers looking at some abyss. After, we are strangers excited of what the future holds for both of us. In between, we are still strangers cursing all pains stinging our hearts.

Time inflicts its greatest wound: recollection. Malt ferments. Soul dies. Mind breaks down. Bubbles in beers imploded to every motion of the hand swaying, wishing it never touched you. Dreams stitched to rags given to wipe dusts and rusts. Time betrayed us, then and again. You were there but not now. Time cursed the being. Time stabbed us causing my heart to burn.

If only I can love you without time minding us all.

Atoms fall. They swerve a little, says Epicurus. Repulsion with others creates the world. That repulsion is a lasting encounter.

What holds that philosophy to be true is antimony. What holds us after all is just an illusion.

When I stumble upon old things finding some boxes, I remember you. When I see your picture in an old frame, forgetting becomes a sickness.

Is there a pill that can selectively erase your fading silhouette in my memory? Confession: I took that pill long ago. My mind fabricates immunity.

You were there in the horizon standing, holding an umbrella, ready to swerve from the rain that once made our love so cold and true.

I was there.

That night, the rain substituted to a poet’s tears.

Hail to Thee, Immortal Three
Knowledge we sing on laud
Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates
Philosophy, to be human awed
Teach through time, consciously
Nod not, what others fraud

Socrates taught, Divine Being
God not of brutal Athens’ passions
Entity of Beauty, Truth Seeing
Goodness unseen in day’s fashions
Soul for unalloyed agreeing
Lessons humanities’ compassion

Talk eternal justice, everlasting life
Socrates’ Sovereign Right of Reason
Clearly mind deceived sense’s strife
Invincible perfection be God’s season
Thus, our key to knowledge ever rife
Priests who find this, absolute treason

No church or Socratic school
A barefoot man roamed to teach
Socrates mocked for looking a fool
His speech not one to simply preach
Plato witnesses a martyr’s drool
Cruel hemlock, words did so breach

Handsome aristocratic youth Plato
Followed Socrates’ Eternal Wisdom
But soon to find his own credo
In Medara to find Euclid and freedom
Egyptian geometry to provide dado
To Plato life, expression; not a system

Eternally an artist, Plato did develop
Philosophic circle in Academus groves
Bring Athens, world knowledge envelop
Discretions of sensations, be not oaths
What man may be, an animal jealous
Plato’s allegorical cave found in droves

As Plato once be Socrates’ disciple
So too, to Plato would Aristotle be
Passing comprehension archetypal
Successions of genius’ visions do see
Aristotle taking it step further, as vital
To science of hands-on discovery

And this is where we see a parting
Of two distinctly opposing philosophies
Plato being at odds, with science starting
Aristotle’s truth, finding no apologies
Things not happening by chance imparting
Frivolity of duopoly, dichotomy to Socrates

But a new era has surely now dawned
Science exploring an invisible atom
And the seen and unseen correspond
So to Aristotle’s, Plato’s, Socrates’ datum
Brilliant new philosophies have spawned
An abstract notion of conceived stratum

In a city filled to the brim
With confident philosophers
One was known to be the wisest of them all
A fact told by prophecy
You see
He walked the streets, engaging in harmless debate
In an attempt to sate their accusation with the burden of proof
So to the artists he went
Questioning the beauty and nature of their work
But try as he might, the one did not feel wise at all
Instead by comparison he found himself rather ignorant to those finer things
Then to the preacher he went
To test his mettle with the gods
And to his surprise he was yet again reprimanded
For only partially grasping the truth
Of divine fervor
Finally,
The one made one more stop
At the political heart of his great nation
So that he could engage in the rhetorical fallacy
Of power for rights sake
When alas he again fell short
Not quite stacking up to the ease of lying
Through a falsely painted facade
Giving up he then sought out the last prophet
An oracle of youth,
Beauty,
And chast
He asked
"Dear young one, the people of my city make a bold claim"
He uttered
"Claiming I am the wisest of all men alive and all those dead"
"How can that be when the knowledge I possess is an insufficiency?"
When slowly the lithe creature arose from the depths
A string of smoky whisps
Encapsulating her tiny form
Seemingly to speak from an abyss in reply
"Socrates, you are the wisest of them all"
Confused, the one was taken aback
How could that be true when apparent knowledge lacked?
"Sweet oracle,"
The philosopher did say
"If what you say is true
Then surely you must have a way
Of explaining..."
In stark retort, the smoking creature snapped
"You dare challenge the will of the Gods?!
"No," he replied coming to the conclusion
"If what you say is true and I am a king above all men
It must be thought
That if I am indeed wise,
As you claim,
It is because I know that I'm not"

"Scio me nescire"

" The law of the jungle is the law of a gang. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. "


The page unfolds.  The best story told. Basically I'm handing out free gold.
Returning ears with interest. You can never borrow to your advantage peasants. Why pay for something to prove you are not a slave? Plato's cave. As I leave they stay. Why do they want me to lead and pave the way? They say it's great !  and you will get paid. I said you gay. I will never hand my **** out to those in need and to those who pray. That's how you get slayed. I will only help those who are me. Who take action by maxing out their mental capacity. And If they do. They're no longer food. They seem so rude and selfish towards being free. It so beautiful to me. A construct painted by true belief.  Just read.

Why am I here?
What is the Purpose of Life?
What is Good?
What should I Value?
Is there a God?
An Afterlife?
So many times I’ve asked these things.

Aristotle, Confucius, The Buddha….
All lived long before Christ
And asked the same.
What is Good…?
Who Knows?

So all we can do
My friends
Is go with our gut.
Just Do It!
Love and revere All Life,
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you –
A cliché I know…
Be empathic and compassionate.
Be a Humanist Plus.
Call it a “Lifist” if you will.

Use your talents to the full
Nay Grow Them.
Do not bury them in the soil.
Have Aspiration, ambition
And Achieve.

Forget about money
And celebrity.
Be honest in your labours.
Work always for The Common Good.

Promote your Wellbeing and your Health.
Give Education where you can.
Build bridges over all divides.
And never forget,
We are The Human Team.

Paul Butters

i am waking up
pushing my way through the plastic covering all of the ideas i was never supposed to touch
so many ideas

i am choosing to walk down halls with varied perspective mirrors
i stop at the ones that make me look fat
and don't believe the ones that reflect a flattering figure
i walk on

i observe
i internalize
i try to understand

why do i think the way that i do?
i was born
into a straightjacket
on the rungs of a one-way ladder

never saw that others might be scaling or ascending the same wall
with rope
sheer strength
the stairs

who am i to judge which way is better?
"the injuring of another can be in no case just."

(as long as it's not hurting anyone)

Eureka
My thanks to the man who tasted
cyanide and voiced his last Eureka.
“Almonds”
To the man who saw dragons
to be slayed with pen and sword
in windmills.
To the Danish Prince who said
“What a piece of work is man.”
Well, man’s a piece of work alright.

Did you ever think about how
men wear their ovaries on the outside?
Or how you can always win arguments with yourself
in the shower?
My boyfriend traces the edge
of my chewed nails as he asks
me what I am thinking about.

I’m thinking about the consistency of jellyfish
and how it compares to human brains
and the taste of nectarines, overripened
drawing fruitflies to picnic tables.
Maybe I see colors differently
and will never know that my blues
are only a midnight shadow of what they
could be and if I’ve never truly seen the color red.

And how after nineteen years
I still can’t tell if I’m a good person
or just faking really well.
And if that Chinese Emperor
who strapped rockets to his thrown
to find dragons
ever found any.
Did the chicken getting crushed while crossing
the road get him to the other side.
If I died young, could I motivate people
to be nicer to each other?
When did my grandmother die
and when can I ask my mother without her
crying?  There was a little girls skeleton
found next to her donkey in the ancient ruins
of an earthquake. There were several
different species of human alive at the same time
and my favorite color isn’t really blue
And I’m really glad I couldn’t ****
myself when I was 13 because I tasted
my first plum last week.  AND FOR THE LOVE
OF GOD
WHAT
AM
I DOING
WITH
MY
LIFE.
My happy moments will always outweigh the bad
And are my ***** uneven because
when I look down—
What are you thinking about?
Almonds.  They
taste like cyanide.

I never really see you anymore.
It's not like you're a stranger,
more like a dark, faded puzzle.
Your words are filled with Socrates,
and your lungs with burning leaves.

For truth, and
For meaning,
We plead, and
We question, and
Reason gives birth,
Just to pregnant
Suggestions.