#heatwave
Why do we call it a heat wave?
No one is saying hello or goodbye,
The heat stifles; we are immovable.
It would be grave if we waved, ******* all energy as we try.
Jan 4, 2025
Jan 4, 2025 at 7:50 PM UTC
leisure up my friend !
weaken open your shellfish hinge
and wet your beak
it’s a marked holiday break
unmarred by family obligation
there’s freedom
to make the most criminal crown of mistakes
in the name
of some frown of liberal investigation
on the town
an eager squad of collaborators are on board
they have your back
desperate, sick and starving gulls
broadened to explore the deplorable
on and on to the next and the next
death defining task
a meandering stagger of a bar crawl
perpetually powering through
as the day spans a revulsion
the heat stays as the day sinks beneath
in place of the suns rays
the heat radiates
from the baked city concrete
stepping out from the shelter of the bar
the night swelter respires fiercely
not done with our steam of annihilation
what establishment would take our kind ?
city has already bowed over it's plumage
to our ******* pilgrimage
bark melts and peels in strips off the trees
(meat shaved off the strip pole)
our heels spark the pavement
vermin and jackals follow our movement
from shimmering dark spots
and our vision constricts
our aim has become clotted...
...what was it that we reached for ?
oblivions fruit seemed a doable pursuit
it's the usual downhill shambles from here
familiar yet barely remembered
a rambling guff of bad ***** comedy
there is no plucky legend
just an embarrassment
Jun 10, 2023
Jun 10, 2023 at 9:47 PM UTC
morning
the city is gruffly petted with heat
buildings quiver in the primeval whither
wide mouthed and whiskered
the catfish thrive in the sewers
taking aggression to the air and fixing to the trees
the insects speed into vigorous breeding
in the populated afternoon city is sternly scored
pressed down on its wilted fur pushed from back to front
each itchy person is its own greasy hair
salt beads from brows and stinging eyes are blinded
scolded and bonded the witless humans slow
natures patient pace is not kin to their will
antsy
ticking noises and electric whines whittle the air
discomfort makes life immediate
a deal to be flustered with
every enduring breath is consciously felt
alive and in suffering
i crouch my form in shelter
a jilted couch to lean against bordering a grown over lot
watching the foxes patrol in sweltering sun
what expected prey brought them into the light ?
i release my hurt understanding (it patrols also)
my hurt snakes through the long tough grass and tacky broken glass
it moves further raised in a mirage hover
over welting heat from the melting tarmac
this way i please my way into nurture
this way i ease my suffering
hum with the wires
and smile at a good day putrefying
Sep 18, 2022
Sep 18, 2022 at 6:24 PM UTC
humidity broke
a cooling pavement littered
with Cicada chaff
Aug 26, 2022
Aug 26, 2022 at 5:34 AM UTC
pleasant-to-be duney minded sediments of mood-blooming yet to calcify light wind and arbor harbour from record heats meat fed steaming sun looming life bawling upon the venue hosted with joshing glee but experimenting with confused bratty states mottled and strobed in the brushed shade for now a stood peace
Aug 25, 2022
Aug 25, 2022 at 7:39 AM UTC
Body clock set to Vienna day trips,
walks atop the white cliffs of Dover,
avoiding sunburn in Roman forums -
only here it's flexed bare chests,
belly buttons pierce snail trail hair,
while tattoos sweat through skin.
Discount ***** hangs on booming breath,
headache-inducing marijuana stench
crawls up nostrils from inside pockets
like a chef advertising to the streets
via an air vent. Craving cartoon fantasy -
empathy in the world, even for humidity,
as we wait for a break in proceedings,
I pray the thunderstorms bring fresh relief.
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 11:34 AM UTC
Away, not home,
this continental heat.
The air pretends
this North Atlantic rock
is worldly
The smiles of the natives
lean manic
as we clutch at multipack lager
and disposable charcoal,
grasp at the living myth
of a cloudless sky
and give ourselves to these gods
Our worship sees us sacrifice
meat and skin,
both burnt to early hours regret
and delicate, bathroom sorrows
A sporadic bacchanal
whose scarcity ensures
that be it working week,
weekend or holiday,
feverish
we’ll pay the tithe
Sunstroke and/or hangover
prove penance for our lapse
from the frigid, three bar
Protestant norm,
but these exotic gods will beguile again
even as the blistered skin still peels
Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 10:38 AM UTC
After the rain, the heat breaks and dissipates,
and the air sits lightly on my skin.
There is space for us to breathe.
For some time, our nostrils wistfully recall the
pavement's sweltering heat as fat droplets
hurled themselves to destruction.
Jun 24, 2020
Jun 24, 2020 at 5:01 AM UTC
I just watched a news report:
there’s a heatwave in Europe
over 41 degrees celcius!
Forests are on fire,
people are uncomfortably sweltering,
the old and sick are dying,
climate change is happening!
I wonder
when will society
become desperate enough
about dangerous climate change
to stop using carbon-emitting fuels
and instead use renewable energies
like solar, wind and hydro?
Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 10:21 PM UTC
Waiting on the day to finally end
Dragging its heels like a cranky child
As we’re cooking, sitting in the smothering sun
Heat on our backs like a dragon’s yawn
Glare roasting our newly born eyes
Shoulders already crowning scarlet
Shaded meekly behind wilting umbrellas
Or palms turned up in surrender
Dreaming of the water, salt and the viscous scent of sunscreen
Gripped by entropic lethargy
Deep in our season of discomfort
Hair catching, make up running, skewed in disarray
Abandoning the hounds of glamour for fox survival
Blistered feet in those new Choos
Exhaustion frying nerves always
Watching for fire
Watching for fire
Dry as salted caramel sand baking toes and heels
Molten metal branding fingers
And every song mocking us, praising tropical comfort
Serenading life under the stars
Blissful ignorance of everyday charring
Demented, paying for our inherited sins...
Red Centre haunting urban wonderlands
Restlessness circling us like a wild dog
Rest flies off, sleep is in the wind
Only the cold blooded belly dwellers cheer for the burn of it
While we, we smell the smoke
Waiting on the day to finally end
Dragging us with it into the soup of our summer night
Evermore dizzily this side of the equator
Life in sweat, in the halo bursts of migraine visionaries
Enduring it with sardonic contemplation
Our everyday southern land heatwave
In the sprawling, abandoned
Sleep stained slick of our
Summertime
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 11:06 PM UTC
An orange sun shimmering with heat
Blankets its cloud all over our heads
Your eyes fill with wonder and stars
Gazing at the trees unevenly spread
We talk of fantasies and breathless sighs
And romance we have never known
While all the butterflies vibrate with ecstasy
And the sky, into our heads, is sewn
Little crystals melt on our tongues
Honey dripped bees infect our sights
Faintly, on the other side of the desert
Our threat awaits, patient as night
Orange sun begins to paint the world
As leaves fall like words murmured
Buzzing hummingbirds cry out in alarm
And the edge of our vision is blurred
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 1:54 AM UTC
If you don't mind it, love
I believe I must ask:
Why is it that
Even when Summer begins to die
This heat never seems to fade away, too?
Solstice is bleeding out in the streets every night
Those fallen leaves, shielding her body
And yet, here in September
I'm still drunk on that brand-new sunshine
That makes me want to lie down with you.
I wish you and I could find a cold place
A secret pathway into Autumn's sweetly perfumed arms
But, love, if that's not happening
Perhaps we should go where the sun shines brightest
And revel in a halo of blistering light.
Perhaps we could peel away
All the formality
Just to keep cool
Every layer of reserve
Long gone by the end of the day.
Of course
You'll see every imperfection
And I'll know it
But I won't mind
As long as each one gets attention from your fingertips.
I'll find Spring in your skin
And you'll taste Winter on my lips
And Summer and her fatal fever
Will be no match for us.
In fact, we'll barely feel her harsh kiss
Streaming through the window
Into our little room
Where everything feels just right.
So, if you don't mind it, love
I believe that you should follow me into this retreat
Where we can embrace this heatwave.
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
Throat is sore
Glands are up
Banging head
Down on my luck
Confined to my bed
But too hot to sleep
Missing the air con
But for work I’m too weak
Swimming in
My own sweat
Stuck to the sheets
Which are wringing wet
Like a water bed
Or rather a paddling pool
My mattress has become la mer
But it’s stifling as oppose to cool
Life in the attic
Is an arduous affair
Sub Siberian in winter
Sweltering in summer sans any air
Oh, bring me an oscillating fan!
To waft me as I ail
In silver or white but definitely not black
Coordination with decor must prevail
I scour Argos
and Amazon online
But the fans are so plentiful
I cannot decide
Which one to order
And can they deliver?
Oh f**k, they’ve sold out
That’ll teach me to dither!
I’ll take a cold shower
If I can muster up the strength
To stand up for long enough
To get myself drenched
Nay, I’m too frail
At least at the minute
Thus my sweat sodden bed
Retains me in it
If I could just sleep awhile
Replenish my energy
Of this BO ridden pit
Could I at last be free
But this lurgey with which I’m afflicted
Coupled with the heat
Is keeping me awake
Sedate me, oh somebody, please!
I shouldn’t complain
It’s nice to have sun
But being broiled alive
Isn’t very much fun
Thus with the lobster
I utterly empathise
So torcherous and barbaric
A way to meet one’s demise
Fortunately I’m not a crustacean
Forcibly yanked by a net from the sea
I’m merely a girl with a viral complaint
Not viewed as a delicacy
Thus I should quit whining
And focus on being ill
For my head in the freezer could I stick
And with the frozen peas chill.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 2:48 PM UTC
This muggy, sultry sun is no fun:
Longest sustained heatwave for over forty years.
Suffocating Sahara with Death Valley cracks
In the dry arid soil.
My electric fan shattered with a power surge
Into fragmented plastic shards.
I so miss it now.
It’s oppressively tropical,
With volcanic heat
And Pressure bearing down on us.
The clammy mugginess of a sauna.
Not the clean dry air you find abroad,
Yet still that remorseless torrid scorching,
Roasting and toasting.
Just too much.
Hot air clothed in humid moisture,
Stuffy and sweaty,
Steaming to a haze
And later
Thunder storms.
I long for a cool brew
To freeze my throat
And quench my raging thirst:
Ice cool, ice cool, ice cool.
I’m sure not talking
Of tea.
Paul Butters
© PB 6\8\2018.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
Sticky Sticky, So **** Sticky,
Us Brits and our Weather
are so **** Picky
Sun Beats Down, Evaporates the Frowns
Then there's the complaints for which wer are so renowned
Too Cold, Too Hot, Please Just Stop...
I was waiting all winter long and now you strop
I much prefer shades to a winters coat
Up round my **** not up round my throat
Own far more Mini's than I do Scarfs
and it was the Summer Holiday's I had most Laughs
So you can keep your dreams of cosy nights in
As I excite the 'Vit D' and Tan my Skin
All trhose extra layers keeping you wrapped
I prefer the White lines where my Crop-Top Strapped
"I can't Move, Think I'm Melting",
I quickly choose 'Rays' over 'Downpours' or 'Peltings'
Sitting at this screen writing is now getting Tricky
It's Sticky Sticky....Too ****** Sticky... Yeergh!
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 7:07 PM UTC
She looks at me
Squints in one eye
Runs her tongue around her lips
From one corner to the other
My heart races, head flutters
I'm just so hot inside
Burning up in fact
Beads of sweat pour from my forehead
Drip down my nose and I realise
She has what I so very badly want
She pulls her hand away from her mouth
"What the **** are you looking at?"
I choke on my words before they come out
I'm so embarrassed
"I'm sorry love, that cornetto looks amazing right now"
For it is a British heatwave
We're strange enough in our usual
Cold and wet weather
We're freaks in the sun
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
It's too hot
I can't stand this heat
The pavement on fire
It's burning my feet
The sun is relentless
Never seeming to yield
Skin is so burnt
Needing to be peeled
Under the shade tree
I try to huddle
Getting out of the sun
Before I'm a puddle
It doesn't matter
How much I drink
Eyes are so dry
I can't even blink
I must find a place
Where I can get cool
So I don't start
Acting like a fool
The weather will break
The heat will subside
It sure has been
One hot steamy ride
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 1:24 PM UTC
Sky is a taut, grey net spread,
at its best in creating panic,
relentless day a brutish marauder,
drained of color of every kind, bleak,
even thought of you distant, my nectar
plays hide and seek, I am plunging
in a hallucinatory spin, down, down.
From inside a furnace closed
with a tight lid under which heat
in it's fiery glory permeates
like never before, a full- throated roar,
without any sound it travels around,
in waves after waves after waves,
to scorch every single thing under
the blood thirsty sun, on a hurried
march for revenge,green turbaned
trees and scarf adorned branches
changed all those embellishments
gone bone dry,now stand apologetic
like kids that made bed wet and caught
red handed, shrunk in shame and pain.
Narcolepsy reigns, drowsiness
day and night, like marijuana haze
follows.
This summer makes its name stick
in bad books,making T.S.Eliot look
shame faced for calling one past tame April,
uncharitably the cruelest of it all.
But this, this is an unbridled wild horse
none can in no way do anything to stop.
When even the last drop of water from
the pond evaporates,sunburn peels the skin,
sun stroke down people, who are unaware,
cruelty of April, becomes monumental.
Perhaps in few days time May could barter
that bad name from April,I'd easily guess.
Buildings , in rows and rows lie, til horizon,
like blood drained corpses all though the day,
the appetite for life, they evidently has lost.
Song birds on flowered trees, have gone mute,
doves scamper, dart in to the air, with hope
to get few drops of water from somewhere
Kindhearted few fill water and feed on containers
for stray birds,taking cue from the practices of forefathers.
Change in climate is an ogre, that could with bare hands
smash pompous attitudes and other human constructs!
Will there ever be a limit, to the red eyed monster,
avarice, we all pamper, within our inner courtyards,
that forces human beings to to do "Harakiri"
like a proud Samurai does with his own sword.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 8:13 AM UTC