Marshmallow mist
as if the sun
kissed
a daffodil.

I will remember
each morning anew
every time
I see the
daybreak
with you
at
my side.

Marshmallow mist
and the sun
kissed
me.

I ******* rock it
Then I lay it down

I am not a quitter, sick spitter
**** I just flow in rounds

atmospherics an
******* stellar sounds

Lyrics of astrophysics,
like chemistry
I just shape the ground

just huddle
But do not make a sound

I crush a cypher, decipher words into crooked nouns

Instant reaction to actions,
My riddles break the crowd

I've adapted to hard labor now

Can't **** with the vision
I'm here to **** it
and change the sound

Bicycle wheel spinning, I'm grinding
I need to get around

Flow soulful, for the soul
like I'm the golden child

Y'all so so, I go super sayin
No super wild

No delaying, I'm not evening playing
You're played out

Penetrator is coming through now
Left-over flow ******* better eat their food now

2016 fiend, ***** this just a new style

I hit the restart button, say **** the hard drive, bike peddling to work say **** the hard ride, living life is easy I say **** the hard times

I'm choking the game, I'm looking to ******* hog tie

Business this
you can **** on my long tie...

Young killer
been spittin it for a long time

Past due with my ******* come up

Ain't nobody ******* with the vision I'm blowing up

Cutting all these lames like division
So I can it add up

All of the positives, at heart I'm an optimist, don't **** with my oxygen
You can't breath what I breathe, **** your accomplishments, I will squash all of them I just abolish bums

Don't **** with my vision, I will **** for what is mine
and do it with precision

All these hoes just multiply
I divided with the quickness

All these fakes just want to try
don't try cause your missing

**** all of the rules
***** I am a misfit

I am just a ghoul, no goblin, no riches

The world is full of fools
Who can't **** with my vision

Inconclusive patterns
Form indented regularity
In flowing drifts
A panoply of tropical orchids
In my mind
A menaced distortion
Straining forward
Like an isolated image
In an old photograph album
Disclosing only the fragments
Of an insoluble puzzle
Its atmospherics of frequency
Disturbs me somewhat
It is identical to hidden speech
Or the resistance to time
Of exclamatory reminders
Of forward motion
That momentarily fascinates
Then falls through a hole
In a central vortex of vision
This is the architectonics
Of a thought
That can never be articulated

the wrong atmospherics of transmission
move in uninvestigated chaotic archives
red and pink turbulent storms swarm across
deep space frequencies in imaginative
currents of pulsars
that are translated into phases
each represented in diverse
conflicting modes of expression
in obsessive grooves of consciousness
cut up components of recycled narratives
audibly fixating on vibrations
that sound across the universe
in diffused spirals of manic fluctuations
converting archaic symbols into equivalents
of dust surfaces that oxidise in intermittent epochs
and deposit a rediscovered earth
an expansive transferable construction
of accidental providence
that allows for expression in artificially generated realities
hallucinated images that float
across the consciousness of the cosmos
producing visions that punctuate rational thought
become preoccupied with the conception
of  interplanetary transpeciation
counting the chronological diversity
of those that occupy the black, blank
vacuum of space

Thank Goodness Santa was exempted
From Covid Travel Rules,
So he could go and deliver
All those presents and shimmering jewels.
My great nephew and niece all smiles:
Look at their happy faces.
Santa did all those miles
And got to so, so many places.

He even brought me mine
Disguised as mail delivery.
Giving his reindeers time
To rest, for a while,
In their Lapland livery.

Top of the Pops at noon.
It was on so very soon.
Some nice tunes and jingles
Like a box full of Pringles.

Not quite Rock and Roll,
But still a hint of Soul.
Meaningful lyrics
And some atmospherics.

The Queen gave us Hope
With her speech at three.
No time to mope
Here in the land of the Free.

Trust you all enjoyed this festive day some way.
And let us all pray
That things get better
From New Year’s Day.

It’s time to conquer Covid:
About time I hear you shout.
It’s DNA decoded,
Vaccinations all about.

So twenty-twenty-one
Is coming very soon.
When this year is all done,
Let’s fly up to the moon.

Let’s fill the world with Love,
Holding hands again.
Goodbye to twenty-twenty,
Goodbye to all the pain.

Paul Butters

© PB 25\12\2020.

(Last two lines changed at the suggestion of Norman Stevens 27\12)

(Original final two lines were:
“It’s not a matter of whether,
Only a matter of when.” ).

..and then I think of them when I wake and the whole day breaks in two,
I wonder if they think of you,
I thought.

It never really matters who it is that shatters the dream
the result it seems is the same.

They say,
give a dog a name and he'll remain a dog
and who's to blame then?

Stand tall.
             Slack jaw.
Never bow.
     The droning static;
Crackle. Moan.
                       Dawning breath
mattress pangs.
Bite the knot
      That fills the throat.
Woven light spills through
Silent faucets; loud water.
              But whistle
Whistle through the fissure
        Jam hands into brother's pockets
Packed and unresolved...
     Electric blanket statements;
Corded, wired, arms straight out
                                Defrost;
             Gray-water rumination.
Telephone cord promises.
False;
Dualities.
      Drop it all. Weep nothing.
Dripping insecurity.
Taut covers and bleached towels
Dishwater clouds. Rock words.
Fervent emanation.
         Delimiting;
Heterogeneous essences.
On the threshold.
      It's all in a name.
Designated.

Assimilate
Infiltrate
           Wash in, wash out. Loud, rocking, rattling the house to the core.
The foundation vibrates.
Wasting time.
Time;
      Time;
           Time;
               Time;
                     Time;
                           Time.
Lowest pair.
          Don't move.
Stop trying to get it right.
                        A light pink dress.
                  New moon
Wash the stones.


A funeral.
       Assume the role.  At Dad's request.
Black shirt, black pants, black shoes, sunset tie.
      Mohawk;
Blatantly disparate.

Get lost. She drives. Wander. Weaving past boarded up houses beyond the city's edge.
                      Anticipate;
       Mountain top dissonance.
               The son of wands.

Early morning oxytocin.
ice cream
in bed after ***
She says.
     Small hands.
         Only now.
            Don't rush.

Ephemeral. A divide in the
in-betweenness.
           A yellow couch.
    The multiverse;
        Another day.
Dark rolling rain.
Be fluid. Ebb and flow.
         If time stopped how would you know?

          ...
Never believe in absolutes.
          
        Waves of nausea collide with an empty stomach
                  Food is lifeless and banal
Hunger creeps in early
        long before daybreak.
            It passes in sleep.

   Spiraling ivy, paint flaked white porch. Wicker.
      Warm glass of milk
It's 8:00pm
thunderstorms.

Fall to sleep on the mattress that belonged to the first.


     Falter. Pinks, yellows and pale oranges,
                          streaks of lilac wisp into a spectrum of greens, yellows and blues.
    Extending from two.
      Atmospheric aura steam…frequency waves, flooding mediated spaces. A dream.
      
Back.

Follow the lights out of the city
North.
      Rubber on pavement
A low hum
       Back to the dog who loves you.  

Find the parts that feel like home
       Familiar roads in wavering memories
  
….
Walk away
           Leave in the dead of the
Night
        Mares
Empty groundings.
    Distorted connections. Star-crossed wires.

No chances.
          Run the course,
coursing through the day and night
after a few weeks or months

    All strangers lamenting.

Peel back
       Eyelids tightened

Affectionately embody
essences of your own sorrows.
  
       Reaching out, reaching in,
pulling out, putting in
      
Girly arms
man hands.
Small hands.
Small Mann hands.

the falling of leaves
from the family trees
and the changing of wayward tides

the height above seas
or two hundred degrees
or the place where the devil hides

atmospherics of pressure
set not for good measure
could never offset what I've done

for I swore it my strongest
I held it the longest
that forever I'd love just this one

holding my hands to detain
his smiling eyes entertain
tufty hair that is perfect for rumpling

summer nights out in rain
like symphonic refrain
little thoughts that he stops me from crumpling

just our walk in the park
just might stave off the dark
of the presence of all things unlovely

'cause his embrace is a lark
each soft kiss leaves a mark
and each day this perpetuates doubly

so the spring that I've kept
turns winter to concept
though outside be they blizzards of cold

I love his without, his within
the mystique of his skin
and his soul that with mine will grow old

Patience is an easy taste to slide across the tongue
When dull grey clouds accumulate as this long day is done,
When orographic clouds appear through every feeling sought
And rationale deteriorates with atmospherics bought.

Panic feeds the tendrils leading downward to my ****
As shards of eccentricity wind these turgid thoughts to lock,
Lock out all solutions to banish a release
Of all vestiges of patience from a tenuous sought peace.

War worn in a weariness, I cast about for friend
Full knowing this miasma deep within, may never end,
Full knowing the genetic flood engulfing DNA
May hold the key unlocking fragile answers to this fray.

Slouching in the shadows feeling tenuously spent
Reflecting that the best of all intentions often vent
A release, as a tear drop slowly trickles down my cheek
In accepting realisation of futilities I seek.

M.
Feeling so much better with that off my chest!
Hamilton
28 January 2017

Lingering Lyrics

   As another dawn approaches
And the Sun kisses the sky
Nature is waking up and in lingering lyrics
In my head I hear a dog and a butterfly

When I was younger music was everything
Now when I listen, it takes me back in time
I still love listening and I savor all the
Songs of remembered rhyme

There’s too many to mention here and
I wouldn’t want to favor one over another
But I’m sure you know the ones I’m
Talking about like Sylvia’s Mother

The songs you don’t have to hear
But in your mind they’re as clear as day
Like American pie and who’ll stop the
Rain and let’s not forget Maggie May

Oh I could go on and on listing them
Especially if I mentioned songs by KISS
But this isn’t about that and besides
There’s still so many songs that I’d miss

And even if they were political like
Ohio and they remind us of violence
They are still songs we’ll never forget
Songs with substance like Sound of Silence

And as always there’s Hotel California
And I know our opinions will always vary
We all have songs we choose for our best
For some it’s Manic Monday or Voice’s carry

And believe it or not I like them too so let
Those speakers crackle with atmospherics
And crank up the music and enjoy all
Of those songs with Lingering Lyrics

Written By:Charles Kean
Copyright © 06/05/2022
All rights reserved

The electrification
in my mind
of things related
to your ***

is stunning
i am living
in the feeling of my thinking
about that hemispheric pair

atmospherics burst upon
my membership
in humanity's
back story


Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis

i finally established rapport
with none other than the Sacred Cow
and it stepped all over my toes
gave me a limp worthy of an asterisk
the oil of anointment in my crankcase
but an army of monks couldn't keep me pure
as I laugh all the way to the blank
pulled into a marginally enchanting future
by the dog at the end of my food chain
pet his good luck **** if you must
my Siberian sibling exhales belligerently
after exterminating the woolly mammoth
separated at birth by a faulty wall socket
badly trained by a monkey's uncle
I've contacted the hunchback ***** banks
for a below zero safe deposit box
while descending through the atmospherics
with a certified license to lounge
upon the bedrock of creation
like butter through hunger
only in your head holy man
expletives erupted from his throat
making antic come here gestures
while wiggling under Bigfoot's foot
a sea of irritants sending messages
through my lawyers Rugburn & Nosebleed
you vampires should be in bed at this hour
if only because monotony generates subtlety
we played 'em right into the net
sent the boys off on a Nanking holiday
to animate something foul and oafish
that's now clogging the sewers
**** the spankers slit their throats
like the moon through a windy fog
one thing blending into another
fueling up with ignorance again
but I don't see how we could wreak hell
any more than the universe
already buggering ahead does
even with bear claws for hands
like a hotel banquet ice carver
in an encounter with the Dancing Strumpets
in a climate too tropical for inspiration
his frozen uncertainty runneth over
in a renunciation of befuddlement
by a Viking landfall pillaged soul
living a farcical incoherent nightmare
slammed through the one chance gate
and went clomping into showbiz
with a gypsy clan of Yiddish fiddlers

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon

he rubbed his eyes
and said you just think that way
so you always have an answer ready
which may well constitute
a state of pure distraction
in a dog lick dog kind of world
at Cathode Ray's tanning salon
scene of criminal degradations
with multiple jaw grinding *******
from a terrestrial point of view
I'm not sure high above the clouds
is the place to find anything
certainly not a mirror to be had
much less a cinema projector
with scenes of domestication
Reginald sneezed his false teeth
into his dinner plate as an augury
probed prodded palpated
looking for the intelligentsia
in the oracle's personnel roster
their attempts to overthrow evolution
led to a cornucopia of calamity
at the crossroads of conundrum
traded their opposable thumbs
for a certifiably reliable statistic
the atmospherics garbling
the ivory tower transmissions
and made anyone look like a prophet
and bearers of unintended consequences
left my friends hanging from lamp posts
adulterers heretics and infidels
cataleptics ablaze with legend
trained by undulating biblical harlots
tending their hornet infested gardens
avoiding the irredeemably antique
remaining inexact to a criminal degree
in the war between belief and certainty
my script supervisor just pulled the plug
he's not from Sesame Street
he's from Bastille Boulevard
the artist is bait and accident prone
opaque as an 8 ball at high velocity
caroming through every nave and vestibule
bladder control found again
in the midst of bourgeoisie panic
a meditation of involvement
I'm going where

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
the disorder of discovery is tolerated