"concreted" poems
An elliptical scent sways and swoons the chamber's floor
As goddesses feathering their summer clothes galore
Without mourning hot concreted toes anymore
As a cool spell sighs upon their necks
Each idle with radiance worthy of praise and sects
Worshipers of the nigh
Like neph
Tribute with sighs
Ridged, hypnotized by mere thighs
And ***
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
Running the gauntlet down Midchester Road,
A veritable suburb of Gleethorpes City,
You pass a line of house-castles
Of the well to do.
But don’t be fooled
By what you see,
For I know someone
Who lives there.
And he will tell you,
Of bountiful gardens
Stripped bare
And concreted over
So that families can park their fleets
Of expensive cars.
See those conservatory extensions
And widened pavements.
A lady poses,
Doing her best
To emulate the Kardashians.
Money attracts
No end of thugs
And dodgy dealers:
Swarming parasitic wasps
Around the honey ***
Nights of drunken revellers
From the local pub:
Swaying from trees
And kicking cans about.
Boy racers tearing down the road,
Music systems booming
With a mindless
Moronic drumming.
“Where has reality gone?” asks
My despairing friend.
They have their money
Their riches,
Expensive toys
But few of them are Happy.
What happened to “Goodness” and virtue
And dreams of Utopia?
Where are the heroes
Inventors and creators?
Instead we have a world of celebrity,
In which true talent – even genius
Is ignored and undervalued.
“Where are we going?” my friend exclaims.
Things get worse and worse,
The world all in reverse.
For it’s “Unreal City”,
Far from pretty.
So have a think,
Don’t let yourself sink
Even further into the mire.
Just get real,
You know the deal,
It’s you I’m trying to inspire.
Paul Butters
© PB 2\8\2019
(with help from a bloke who lives in such a place. Same town as me).
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 6:01 AM UTC
They call it crude.
The dessicated then carboxilated, carbonified,
****** of dead Permian flesh.
This is the reason the salamanders die.
Corporeal concreted, mummified, fossilized.
This is the reason we dance.
Dirges of West Texas dirt romances.
Lost in the flares,
Caught in the gases blaring making nostrils glare.
Requiescat in pace.
All these women.
Dancing through the caliche,
Giving a reason to taste the air.
Through one breath of speechless.
The loam is never settled where boots tread and weather.
Destroying bedrock through hydrolic fracking to the earths core.
I land my toes in the sand of the Llano.
I taste my Mexicans, greasy, with cheese,
With.
Hot.
Sauce.
Dorthy never went to the fest of Oil.
But there's no place like home.
Her silver slippers or prosthesis feet placed instantaneously upon me.
Would bring me directly into a thorny,
Patch of Mesquite.
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 12:49 AM UTC
Unite in your unions!
Unite in your unions!
Unite in your unions and throw yourself face first in to your work!
Don your shirt or overalls,
Overhaul your boundaries to concreted foundations,
Regardless of what nation you adhere yourself to.
Still you work yourself to the bone so your home can pull through.
Pull through what?
This so called "economic catastrophe"
Will work turn into something done for free?
Used to create social links and acquaintances to support our future selves.
Favours like cans, stacked on shelves.
Cashed in for food to much,
Blankets for warmth,
A place to rest and huddle and slump.
As positive as it seems surely that'd backfire.
Paid work becomes something where few are hired.
An explosion of willing workers in their millions,
Forcing tired feet into the smallest of doors.
Hives of men and women, children, fathers and mothers,
Striving for space while engulfed by their brothers.
Enclosed in forecourts once commercially used,
These families that hustle and bustle get bruised.
Although this exists in the present, and past,
It's a consequence of utter nonsense.
Hopefully (and I say this wholeheartedly)... Hopefully...
Our "leaders" will cut out the rotting impurities and corruption in this economy.
Allowing us to be what our full potential shows us we could be.
Like countless Sci-Fi shows on TV.
Intergalactic human beings,
Where all politics are subdued by feelings.
A plethora of nations on orbiting space stations.
So unite in your unions people of Britain,
Unite in your unions people of China,
Unite in your unions people of Russia,
Unite as a world and demolish these dangers!
Goodbye.
Zàijiàn.
Dasvidaniya.
Aug 29, 2010
Aug 29, 2010 at 8:09 PM UTC
When the tidal wave came
I was looking the other way.
I knew the gentle Shuttle
had its shallow banks
concreted, walled, ready
for the diverted torrent,
but for some reason I was looking
North, thinking that way lay
the Thames and its barrier,
not knowing the wave
would follow the Shuttle’s
more meandering route
and I got it in the back of the neck.
Dec 14, 2021
Dec 14, 2021 at 12:39 PM UTC
Sitting on the wire she glooms and alone
‘Down forth’ all beckon,
‘Bits of bread are there
Pick up lest the other demands share’.
The lame bird ***** in the air
Rolling down from her breast a feather,
Pecking a bit with a sense
The escorts saving by defence.
A hunter hits like the lightning from the blue
None finds out yet its clue,
Concreted blood splitting and dog's spittle
Absence of delay makes her utmost brittle,
The barking dogs in the narrow city
Whose have with her no affinity,
All green leaves falling upon ground
That is for love beyond of bound,
Odium! Odium! to the merciless beings
The supreme creatures for whom so long she sings.
Sep 24, 2025
Sep 24, 2025 at 3:57 AM UTC
Knees aching climbing the hill,
gras patches, soft landings
among sandstone islands,
dreaming cold clime exploring.
Shoe gripping rocks
of concreted fossils,
weighing on times remains
- triassic scales.
My multiplexed cells,
morphed versions of those
modelled in the strata.
Not master of all I see.
Not master of me.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 2:09 PM UTC
Feel like a ********** only used at night
Never appreciated, I don't think its right
People make use of me with little thought at all
Without me they'd be in the dark, could trip or fall
Never worry about me, couldn't care if I'm hurting
But! don't they complain when I'm not working
Stuck out here in the weather in all extremes
They all rely on me or that is the way it seems
Only time I get washed is when it happens to rain
Sometimes I short out and spark, oh what pain
My cover is old, yes its all cracked and broken
Does any one give a dam? you must be joking
Dogs **** there leg next to me and take a ****
Birds **** all over me, I don't think I deserve this
Men lean their girl against me for a kiss and a feel
Undesirables stand below me to make a drug deal
Police try to solve crimes perhaps stop an odd fight
No idea most of the time, I try to shed a bit of light
Concreted to the ground, can't move surely not fair
Stuck out in the weather with my head high in the air
Once I was hit by a drunk driver and knocked to the ground
Police and firetruck arrived, driver was nowhere to be found
Sparks and electrical currents, gee **** it certainly hurt
Firemen threw powder over me, too dangerous to squirt
I lay on the ground for a week, some flags around me
People stayed away at night, just wasn't possible to see
Then along came some workers, absolute gentlemen
Fixed me up good and using a crane stood me up again
I cannot understand people at all, certainly not fair
I needed to be run over before they showed any care
They are all happy to use me while my heart glows
Don't they cuss though if my poor old globe blows
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
For she is the
cause of a
blue-eyed suicide
The pierce with
the depth
of an arrow
plunged deep, concreted in
Finishing with what has
just started
Pushing in deeper,
her fatal gaze
hoping for it
to corrupt
All of this cause
she left you broken
It finally comes
swept over you
Her goal met
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 9:41 PM UTC
I'm scared of the unknown,
But should that mean,
I should bow down to the unknown?
I love you,
Of that I'm sure,
A leap of faith, Or another crashing fall?
What if,
Someone out there,
Connects better to your soul?
A rosy cheeked girl,
Holds in her palm,
The joys of all your favorite festivities
Do you think,
My love is worth,
The life that you are giving?
Maybe, we can leave the world behind,
Not that it ever cared
much about you and I
But about the plethora of differences,
Of culture and races,
That separate us.
What if ours was the love,
That burns too bright,
And hence should end too soon?
I have always been,
Scared of the unknown,
Concreted path,
Is what I prefer to walk on.
After all,
The waves of sea,
Also subside to a rhythm.
You see, all my life,
I have been scared of the unknown.
A yes or a no?
Hate to keep you waiting,
But I really don't know
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 6:29 AM UTC
I've walked this same path so many times it's been concreted over and my soles have weathered out.
But my legs are tired and I'm sick of feeling this way.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
here, there is not much to look
at. in this 3 AM tapestry,
the moon cloaking itself
in profound dark, stark and unseen,
stars borrowing their coruscations
from their white mother
in choreographed intermissions.
only a swan-song undelivered
an a dwarf carved in noiseless stone. the bougainvillea casts
its webbed shadow on the concreted canvas. soon, the night will turn
rattling in its black bed, and then clamber back to its resignation
and the identical day of yesterday's inception will revisit
us through interstices of leaves,
forking these illuminations
without allegories nor travails,
just light and its lenient pedagogy.
there is not much to gaze at,
let alone speak to, in this
deepening spectacle. only
this swan-song that remains a secret between i and this indomitable figurine.
the moon stilled in its lulled repose, stars minding their own
saturations, as the day is in close transit, nearly opening the door of this pale fixture, entering with affable demeanor greeting me
through a hundredfold of anonymous eyes heavy with discernments.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
The prison of belief
In the beginning there was the mother the father and me
The sun was born
In the beginning there was my mother my father and me
A new son was born.........
To shine light on the world stipend in darkness
To give those who are considered darkness light in a world that's obnibulated with dead carcasses
Minds hidden in between a concreted sarcophaguses, I smell death
Cannibalistic rituals held in every communion masked in the glory and false light,given to those who are held in ******* that couldn't take flight, their, wings, clipped, Spirits,cut, knowledge of self ,ripped,replaced with but but but
Excuses made, to make believe In belief,
Drawn away from self, I can't believe what I see
Knowing truth, what lies in and out and up underneath
Going through, suffering behind the bars, the prison of belief
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC
Capture your love
By stealing your heart
Blame me for nothing
Out of your way I dart.
A promise of patience
Comes from my lips
But you want more
Into old love you dip.
They say if I love you
I'll let you go
And if you come back
True love will show.
But neither one of us
Is ready for that commitment
To have our love
Be here concreted.
I cannot let you go
Hold you to my hearts doors
Keep you warm inside
My souls core.
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 12:14 AM UTC
I remember very vividly
The place where
a sweet smell lingered in the air
And though it must have
rained at times
The sky was never too grey
And the cold never too bitter
The sun liked to play hide and seek
From behind the banyan tree
From which dad had tied a swing
Not too big,
Not too Small,
It would take me
high enough to believe I had wings
But not too high
To make the crashing look painful.
I remember about a place
Where I lived
It was so long ago
It carries with itself
The sweet nostalgia
of a dream
that ended too soon.
Dreamy, but real enough
To not be mistaken
As a fabrication
Of one's imagination
Real but dreamy enough
To waste the entire galaxy wishing upon it.
I remember about
The labyrinth
I would walk with my Nana
What for
I can't seem to remember now
But all the things he said
Are the foundations on which I have built my life.
These concreted paths,
These dimly lit rooms,
The days blurring into the next ones
Till I can't distinguish one from another.
The faded memories,
The jagged longings,
The flame in my eyes
Has completely extinguished
The music in my heart
Is slowly ebbing.
The heart's longing
The mind Is seeking
These leisurely moments
Which are lost now,
To a place probably
Where my childhood went
Along with my Nana.
If someone finds a way to get those days to me,
Let me know,
Till then I'll be writing
Of those days
I had with my Nana.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
Hey! You!
Follow Your Path
Frost had it right when he “Took the road less traveled by”
But when is that easy?
Because frankly the road I’m going down has been traveled by many
At this day in age I’m not sure there is a road not traveled
Roads have been paved and concreted to the city
Made by technology and not withered by experience
I would love to take the road less traveled by
But instead I think I’ll take to the sky
Because these roads are cluttered with traffic
And too slow moving
For my fast-paced decade
So I think I’ll traveling by plane
I believe a great man name “Doc” once said, “where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”
That’s right I don’t need roads
Because I’m done following the path paved and named for me
I’m done with society not viewing the world the way I see
I’m done with the insecurities
I will not be told
I’m not pretty enough
Smart enough
Involved enough
I’m not tall enough
I’m not old enough
I determine my life not you
I will not wait at the stoplight
I will no longer wish for the green to last
Because the sky is limit
I will not wait another minute
This advice is not only to me but to you
Fly with me
Be clueless with me
We will make the sky our kingdom
Give ourselves absolute freedom
Do go down the path we please
Because we choose our destinies
Just think of the endless possibilities
I am sick of the need to perpetually people please not praiseworthy persons who are passively prejudice of my personal path
Please, swallow your pride
We don’t need roads
And we don’t need to deal with stop signs
We just need to mind the birds
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
Because in all the insidious cases, it is a home-based canteen of soul-killing, mind-boggling, headache cats! Ordinary alcohol - s gossip clouds billowing at jaccudzi parties filling the court fools! The dog-flash game of dog comedies is followed by more and more popular fun! The vulnerable man is already prostituting himself! There is also a shadow over the ****** ***** gates of the Universe; diligent *** fleas fatten greedy greedy and insatiable elephants!
Lurking-polite idle boys can always stay on the go! he jerks into an unspeakable deep stack who wakes up to a sobering daze without the love of Loyalty! Ordas-whimsical merriment-pleasures are combined with incredible creativity! - The legitimate V.I.P. sense of life is concreted into the public consciousness as an unbreakable shell! Appearance The shores of America are still moving further and further away from a hundred-year lag prospect! They perform a complete power outage in tangled brains! The whole ruction always starts with a selfish leech attachment!
Can everyone just become a cheap toy in the hands of bad guys?! Slave-fought billion-dollar ********** dives play with each other as uninitiated silk chipendale boys! Their player veins are getting hotter and more unquenchable! Wild cats rattling on command and ringing their chains can easily become tamed kittens! In their Haddelhadd memories you can hardly find anyone who could show understanding empathy for little boy sadness! - The kneaded addict does not voluntarily consume performance-enhancing steroids; in stripped-down animalized instincts it is becoming increasingly difficult to find the True and Sincere happiness of this tiny existence!
Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 1:55 AM UTC
In reverse of the waddle wheel
the landscape runs back in blow
of winds that take a hair threadlike’s hand
to dance a trickle of pathos
when I swallow.
Not thoughts of of prattle, but roars within struggle
as if time concreted through spaces, still,
to contingency thee confide.
What a subtle heaviness to stand where I shall revel
What a terrible freedom to know what I cannot sail
It’s gonna end.
But until now I can’t even tell
what I am missing,
for what, and by whom?
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 10:09 AM UTC
I think it's finally happened.
I'm functioning again.
Thawing out on a deckchair
in my concreted garden,
the sky is thinning and
promising March.
It's finally happened.
I don't have to pretend.
I had forgotten the taste of air,
now I walk through the book shops,
peeling through new volumes
and nesting for my own.
I think I'm getting there.
All barriers descending.
Misery is not ending
but changing, forming
to constellations of doubt
in the vast expanse of space.
I'm finally getting there.
I'm functioning again.
The papers are stacking
and news is coming in;
we have thrown down our arms,
crossing continents in the sun.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
Omissions we make take us somewhere
but where that could be
I've no
clue,
I lose all momentum when friends come to stay
and the talk turns to
what shall we do
tomorrow.
Like
decaying uranium we linger, the fingers of time are our fate,
the half-lives of sinners are longer and get longer the longer they play on my nerves,
inner sanctums are no more a sanctuary
the walls I concreted broke down,
the lions may roar a denial, but something's
going on in the town,
ships sailing at dawn for the Islands
on missions to take them away,
only here for a day gone in sorrow,
in tears on the quayside
I see my
tomorrow.
The future is closer this evening
the day drifts off into the past,
uncertainty is the new reason
I'm glad that's
decided, at
last when the bell starts its long climb
before it falls back down
and chimes
I climbed that tall mountain
so often
and fallen back down
many times.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 5:38 PM UTC
now is the time
when ....it all winds.....
down....
the lights are ......
dimmed.......
and the world....
settles
the world settles.....
.....and the breathing
of the room becomes
...regulated
syncopated.......... smooth...
.........broken..only by...
the whimpers of.....
medicated ....sleep sodden pain.......
...as you shift ..... as they shift....
... the broken...bruised ..and..
battered anatomy... on slabs
of latex ...concreted.... beds..
but.... even that.... has become
a ...descant.... that..
harmonizes.....
with the..... murmuring lyric gossip...
... of the nurses station...
.... and the brass buzzers .
...seeking....seeking...
..........relief........
answered..... by squeaky.....sqeeeeky
... shod percussionary..... nurses
giving ....aid....care....pills
i lie on.... the razors... edge...
...of pain..... ....in the half light
concentrating.... on this...
assonic symphony ....willing for it ..
......to lull me.... into a... fitfull... sleep..
but ..... . tonight it seems the ....throbbing ...robbing...
roaring.....pain ................
....in my damaged limb...
........... and ....torn ...........flesh
...............is playing.. playing
.. a counterpoint ..to sleep...
............... havoc........
........is this night's song.....
.......for me....
at least ...until...
the meds.... sing .......
.in my veins....and then....
.... all is........ a lullaby.....lulla .....bbye
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
Your soul,that choice
how could you steal my voice
The trust I folded from the beat of my heart
in my mind's eye,we'd never part
We gave each other our word
it was rooted deeply,never to possess flight of a bird
Never would I think of the word betray
blinded was I to the secrets of your true way
The promise we made with our soul
it was true,honest,lovely,concreted with my whole
Now I leer and gaze at someone that might be honest and true
but I am overwhelmingly careful,never to be that fool
My heart taking so long to heal
so afraid to allow myself to feel
will I ever give out trust in my once childlike manner
flying now is distrust and doubt,color change this is my banner
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 3:36 AM UTC
all the flowers are concreted
moulded in a seed
the grass is growing
twirling round my dreams
the sky has come down for breakfast
but I have nothing to offer
so I offer nothing
and this is accepted
and the sky gets up and leaves.
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 6:54 AM UTC
Far and Wide.
Near and Close, they travel,
Distance merges with time,
Day collides with Night,
the Sun kissed the Moon, and the Stars cried,
Heaven is not a blur, but a twinkle and a promise,
A promise concreted within the soul of a man and a woman,
Earth's dawn fills a void with footprints and the heartbeat of Don & Lillian.
Firewalker
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC
Clear days feels so good and free.
So light as a feather can be.
Seeing flowers, river, trees and birds
Watching plays, music, singing a verse!
Another day with bright sunlight.
Everyone woke up, dealing with their personal fights.
Concreted world, grey and white.
Darkness everyhwere, whether it's a day or a night.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 5:31 AM UTC