There once was a ledge way out at the edge, of the world,
Where one day a man found himself in the hands of the girls, who lived in The Land of Do as You Please.

The man was aghast for he remembered the past when the girls would sit with their hands behind their backs, and promise to wait on his beck and call.

So when he returned to the land he was distinctly appalled, for none of the girls paid him any attention at all. He took them and shook them, and called them all out. Screaming and Screaming " Ma'am what's this all about?"

Finally, out of all of the noise, emerged a beautiful woman full of grace and poise. She said to the man, " Sir! Get down on your knees! For after all, this is The Land of Do as You Please!" So without further ado the man took off his shoes, shaking with anger for he didn't like to lose. He looked at the woman with anger and spite, and lifted his fist with all of his might. Before the man with the oversized hands, could land a blow, the beautiful woman's eyes started to glow.

She turned bright red, looked to him and said, " Well my good sir, I think you might be just dead!"

With a final breath rattling from his chest, the big man lay his head down to rest. The woman sighed and looked around, for there were piles and piles of other men laying on the ground. All meeting the same fate as the last, each of their ideals also stuck in the past. The woman turned smiling glee, knowing she was finally safe, in The Land of Do as You Please.

what happened to you
that made you change?
you were a different person
when I knew you.
now your values are deeper than your veins
you hug people less but now you mean it.
your confidence itself
has morphed into something
less like a sun-bright dress
and more like an adamantine
gem,
a pendent you wear close to you
under layers and layers and jackets and sweaters.
do you still respond to the same name?
the creature you are now
is surely a different being
than the one you were before.

In my late teens I would wonder
What is The Purpose of Life?
What should I Value?
What is truly Good?

But now at sixty six it seems so clear:
Life per se is what matters.
The wonderment
Of selves
That know they are selves.
Of sentience married with intelligence.
The miracle we call Life.

At nineteen I said
That the First Priority
Was Survival.
I wrote a thing called “The Bedrock”
To grow this theme.
And what was it that had to survive?
It was living beings
Nurtured by Mother Nature.

I am a “Lifist”
If you will:
Cherishing all that lives.
Humanist Plus
And more than Conservation.
Health and Wellbeing
For The Common Good.
A touch of Socialism
And Equal “Opps”.
I coined the word “Positivism”
To sum it all up.

Is this all poetry?
Maybe not.
But the greatest poem lies all around us:
The very world and universe
In which we live.

Paul Butters

© PB 18\2\2019.

A tarnished fire
Loathe to burn and reluctant to subside
All perishable moments hide
Desire reigns in its monopoly
Of lust greed and avarice.

Logic binds truth to proofs
Passions bind reality to power
Power oozing from one wound to another
Violence upholding peace
Vengeance at the crux of justice.

Peeling off layers of presumptions
The nakedness of beliefs
Voiced in chants of supremacy
Sprinkled with the blood of pointless sacrifices
Purified in hate and prejudice.

Morality is as flawed as mortality
Susceptible to as many ailments
Yielding to the  whims of time and memory
Moments pass and monuments erode
History is retold in fantasy.

(C) Anavah 2019

it’s that time of year again
a time for re-evaluation

my gratitude awards
go to ...

disinterest in material things
those who see better values
cultivated kindred spirits
kindred strangers
who are yet to be met
a comfortable life
the cliff, the trees,
the creatures, the seas,
the music
the things i can do
and the freedom to do them
and the love
that was shared
this year

The eulogies resound in stentorian tones for the great,
those of prominence, those who have ascended to the pinnacle,
those who have known power, and who have changed worlds,
whose names fall from the lips of every man, who are offered
unencumbered embrace, a deferential half pace backward.
But what of the good man, without position, sans societal perch,
whose wealth is paltry, accomplishment meager,
yet whose effort is no less herculean, no less courageous,
whose heart is no less pure, the good man doomed to failure
through paucity of talent, or missed opportunity,
or plain bad fortune, yet who resolves to continue, plod foot after foot to anonymous end, and whose name will not be voiced in so much as a whisper for all eternity.

I do not get used to this world of expensive things, cheap people, values on sale, feelings in liquidation and hearts in bankruptcy. That's what we expect, not get used to it. And the best way to not get used to it, is showing that things are expensive while people are willing to pay for it, people are cheap when they have a price, of value, the values are down, when the ambition is placed before the feelings, feelings in liquidation are, when hope is lost. And so hope that those who wait will not count the hours. And while we are still waiting, hope is not lost. That someday love arrives, that when it arrives it will materialize and be almost perfect, have patience when you think you have found it, that the one that goes away becomes full than the one you share, do not be disappointed with the one you already have, be eternal, and that every night is a honeymoon. And while we continue waiting, we do not lack the desire to move forward, that all dreams, at some point become reality. That the makeup does not extinguish your smile, that the baggage does not ballast your wings, that the calendar does not come in a hurry, that the dictionary stops the bullets, that the blinds correct the dawn, that the desire wins, longing and the I can, Let those who wait not to count the hours, let those who will die of fear. Let the end of the world surprise you dancing, let the stage fill you with success, Never know how, or when you are flying, just fly. That a genuine heart does not go out of style, that the autumns gild your skin, that truths do not have complexes, that lies look like a lie, that mirrors do not give you reason, that you take advantage of looking at what you see. Do not worry about you helplessness, that every dinner is your last supper, that being brave does not come out so expensive, that being a coward is not worth it. Do not buy for less than anything, do not sell love without thorns, do not fall asleep with fairy tales, do not close the bar on the corner. That in spite of everything, while you wait, be yourself and that your authenticity is your greatest trophy.