There was a girl,
She’s gone now,
Who lived and breathed
Imagination and life,
(Aren’t they the same thing?).

She saw the house down the street
And thought it a monster
Never that it was replete
With the emptiness  
An innocent bungalow will foster.

Air was to her
As glass water that sings
About its giggling spring
And she would awaken
At its dance upon her skin
As she breathed it all in.

The air is now
As water, grey like mercury,
That dampens what the eye can see
And it is chagrin
That is awoken
At a world so forsaken.

Nietzsche was mistaken
When he proclaimed
Our God as dead.
It’s the vision and
Stories for which we used to aim
That expires instead.

i like to imagine myself trekking across
a great desert, or tundra, or wasteland,
and it’s dark but the sky is glowing
with stars and the sun on the horizon
and everything is that beautiful natural violet.
there is nothing for miles and miles and miles
and in every direction is the same thing.
i walk over hills and through ditches
but in the hugeness of the landscape
they are nothing, and it’s still wide and flat.
i wonder and i dance and i shout at the sky
and i flail my arms around and trip over
and i yell and grin and shake to the stars
and to the space beyond them, that infinity.
i tip my head upwards and smile to
infinite amounts of infinite things up there.
i am confused and i am lost and i am scared
and in all of that i’ve found the most joy
that is even possible to be felt.
i scream at the infinity in a friendly way
as if i’ve figured out its secrets,
as if we’re on the same page.
i thank it and i laugh at it and i scold it
for everything that i feel and know and am
because one of the infinite things up there
must have given it to me,
whether it knows it or not,
and i feel safe and tiny and fleeting
and i am so happy to be the
tiny second of useless time and phenomena
that i am.

You pose and pout,
Seduction by superficial sauciness.
You tell me of your day
With that simpering voice,
Raising each last word
Long and loud.

You show me your flash cars,
Your sumptuous wardrobe
And who knows what else?

You and your kin call yourselves “Influencers” –
A great word,
But all you do is make people:
People who have grafted long and hard
For a little spare cash,
Go buy things they
Do not really need.

Right Said Fred was Right:
The global catwalk
Is a sham.

I too would love to be an “Influencer”,
Such a fine word,
But I would be one to encourage folk
To Love others,
Stop all this Conflict
Between polar opposites and extremes,
Fight only for the Common Good,
And make the world a better place
For All.

Paul Butters

© PB 15\1\2021.

women don't know how to love
and neither do men
it's a mean world
it's a cold one
full of children
who've got the bends,
coming up too fast

I would like to take a moment to think about the present
To not look forward nor behind
But to enjoy the sunrise and the moons crescent
To see my life's shadow on those who are blind

In this world people make the past present
They scorn with hatred, please with evil
They move any way the choose, treating those of the world as peasants
Those who strike out against, are also strike down until they are weak and feeble

At the same time, there are imaginaries who wish to leave their problems behind
To step on a new earth, where nothing but greatness awaits
They ignore those around them in search of a new find
Through all the loneliness, all they discover is that they fell for the bait

When the two worlds collide, division is created
Yes far more than right or wrong and left or right
What is left is a society without purpose, one that's tainted
While the winner continues ruling with might

The ones they can't touch, are the one who live for today
Those who make the most out of day to night
Who focus on who they are, rather than what they have to say
For they are theones who keep the world shining bright

I was late buying gifts this year
So I put on my coat faced the chilly wind throughout the busy street
Shops on every corner were stocked with sales, but I couldn't help notice the smaller family who held nothing but a tear
This year has been ******* everyone, but for them they looked tore down a bit

Yet through all this it was their little one who would say Merry Christmas to those passing by with a bright smile
For the little one did not see the sadness in his parents eyes, but only the joy in their hearts
At the same time there were still those who came by and judged them, treated them like they were on trial
I stood back and stared, how could we truly be this far in despair, my warm spirt left with nowhere left to start

Further down the cold road, I saw a man stealing food outside the shop a child sat
Clueless to the world around, just happy to spend Christmas with his dad
On the way home, a woman walked barefooted as other passed she seemed so pitiful and sad
Though not one person stopped, she kept walking and still held a smile of gratitude

When I reached home, I sat in my chair and thought of what to say
For I do wish my wife could have a pair of shoes on Christmas day
I wish the kids could see a bright tree with presents and toys
This year may be heard, but it's a little better knowing we can still celbrtate the lord and all his joy

As the light pierces the sky,
the day breaks once more,
the eye of the red sun
beholds her majesty.
A slender black frame-
the cocoon to her chi that burns
like the soul of an orchestra
composed in the wild.
A-foot a tree, she sits-
the wings of a butterfly beat for her heart
in natures nest- she grazes
with fur as sharp as her...

Then the passing of the day turns into night...
and the hunt ensues her fiendish rite.

Silent black features
she glides, a regal creature-
with yellow orchid eyes
observing an oblivious pool.
At the East River lake
a-thousand breaths lay in wait,
a mother's young doe-eyed doe,
is to follow in his ancestors' wake.
Flesh cuts through flesh, then
chaos lives in their eyes-
over as soon as it began
his unsuspecting heartbeat dies...

Perhaps our own gods
once lived to blur the lines
between natures beauty
and it's cruel fate -
For how often have humanity's
black creatures existed
as prey, unbeknownst to
a destiny that is great.


Jennifer Alé