Stones and Seeds -
Whatever you hold,
lay them down
and unfold your empty hands

Old paths never cobbled

float stones, over the years.
Through the winter each day I walk
or drive this trail,
I moosh down the mud and deep
down ought or else pushes back and

water takes the waymaker function,

path of least resistance,
coming up.
Hydraulic pluerosis pops a stone into my path.

An old stumbling stone, new position.
Kick'em out the way, see watcha find

Certain con
tained
coils of oughts thought steps as
rungs from
Bethel to where Jesus says the Kingdom
of right use right-e-o-us
righteo.

come hell or high water
A.
Lor' willin', if the creeks don't rise
B.
you trust your kenotic self to flow, least re

sist dance

A. or B. Either opens the gate,

t'm'yaad, eden bydemnation namin' imps.

Clouds of could'ves push-crash

---
dis ap
proven re
proven re
al itynessification.

judge you, I judge me and we judge each
the other,
I am first reader, I and my muse and the manual dexter/sinister
skill with the maigi
tech
(I key far faster than hemingway two finger typed,
if he did, like on tv)

I correct me, I was trying and, by trying doing.
Earlier in life I magined one sneaky lie true
because it came from
Yoda,
wise entity telling Luke,
there is no try only do,

maybe for Alienated Jedi minds, not mine,

mine works if I try to do and do, so trying and doing
is done at once.
Okeh. An earlier exploration was tainted by my wish

to be seen wise in relation to an imaginary
depicted fiction seen as the source
of base level words chock full o'
wisdom... nuts... Yoda was never real.

C'mon, gimme the old American

Try again. Emulate Socrates and Jesus,

sorta comboish,
Old Ben says it worked for him,

Kenosis-like. The thirteenth step in
In Ben's
experiment in thinking as an
American might, in the future,

relative to then.

People still read the
Auto-biography of Ben, right?

A proverbial treasure buried long ago
for you.

---------

I dip my fingers in me
thinking of your face.
biting my lips,
figuring out your taste.

you seem like a
drop of sweat on my nape,
honey milk on my waist.

One summer
you shall flow
and the flowers
would glow waiting
for the rains.

Do not haze, neither haste.
the world inside me will tremble,
and so will my skin.

for some stones
now know
how a bud blossom
in the cold snow.

©ladywithpen

You can’t beat that musical beat,
From tinkling triangles
To blaring horns.
A quick ditty
Or grand symphony.

Music can mould mountains,
Oceans and plains.
Make you feel any emotion
Or atmosphere.

When songs and poems marry,
Their offspring are awesome:
“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality…”
Mercury magic.

Those rhythms run like chugging trains.
They fight pitch battles
Within our brains.

Drums keep beating,
Guitars whine.
Ever repeating
All through time.

Chuck Berry with his rock and roll,
Aretha Franklin, Queen of Soul.
Elvis truly was the King,
Want some crooning?
Play some Bing.

Beatles, Queen or Stones,
Who really cares?
Roll over Beethoven
Bach or Lennon
On your dancing squares.

I know that rap can give you the blues,
But there’s so much music
You’ve got plenty to choose.

Musical memories adorn our minds,
Warm associations
Of nostalgic times.

Paul Butters

© PB 4\3\2019. Last stanza added 6\3\19.

They were laid in the road and ****** to death.
Seemingly innocent sins of yesterday yanked
Them from the pedestal stacked high
With promise. Stolen glances stuck
To eyes so warm, so soft, so quick
To deny. Quick to forgive his fault
Of the heart for carving Scarlet
Letters into the skin of young girls.

When people judge you harshly
Never judge them back
For the degree and measurement they have used to judge you by
Shall be the degree and measurement
Which shall be used when their judgement time arrives
Therefore don't worry about what people think or say
Why tire yourself about something you have no control over
Their words are likened to leaves blowing in the wind
Such people shall be trapped by their own words
And they have determined their own fate
The more stones such people throw
The more stones they shall reap
A harvest of stones
You reap what you throw

I saw the story of creation unfold before my face,
voices of masses screaming vows before the lord.

like the last meal, this is how the end began.

With words like stones exchanged between families in a divorce court.