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samasati Oct 2013
big sweaters, ghibli, acrylic paint, cafes, knit blankets and unplanned afternoon naps on the couch, gardens, bananas, vanilla almond milk, soft yarn to crochet into ****** scarves, candles after midnight, the big trees with bulky roots, patio furniture, pianos in random buildings, the internet, manatees, the boundless colours of nail polish, peanut butter & honey, rubber boots, pens that write well, fresh new notebooks, skylights, american netflix, mothers that understand, tête à têtes, one glass of sweet white wine, awkward eye contact that turns into comfortable kissing, airplanes, fresh air, baseball caps, the female collective, the really good dark chocolate, flowers, pumpkin spice lattes and ***** chai lattes, candid laughter, yoga, oceans, high waisted shorts, striped t-shirts, docile cats, playful pups, french presses, integrity, sunscreen, meerkats, penguins, chameleons, autumn leaves, fall fashion, ruby woo mac lipstick, osho, dynamic meditation, compassion, siblings, scrambled eggs, smart phones, garageband, metronomes, hot glue guns, quinoa, ferry boats, soft hands, bicycles, real people, fat snowflakes in ample, graceful *******, backpacks that don't hurt your shoulders, hair conditioner, multi-vitamins, soft sand under bare feet, people that own up to lies, clarity, samsara, satori, samasati, visions, echinacea, lavender oil and frankincense, ambrosia apples and ripe avocados, authenticity, Morgan Freeman's voice, good kissers, *******, iced tea on a hot day, curtains, the smell of beeswax, art galleries, hand massages and foot massages, reiki, plums, mild thunderstorms, soccer *****, good surprises, when birds don't **** on your head.
I wrote this with my momma one fine morning!
there is always so much more to add.
meerkats are clever of that there is no doubt
they live in congregation and one who is the scout
looking out for danger so he can warn the pack
back in to there burrows they will all run back.

they look for any insects for there little treat
scorpions and spiders that they love to eat
they can see for miles when standing in the air
with  there perfect vision looking everywhere.

they are very close a great big family
roaming round the desert with a life so free
Petal pie Aug 2014
Today tastes like
Satisfied saturday lie ins
and accompanied sleepy yawns
Tea in bed
toast crumbs

Today tastes like
Washing pegs I hold in my mouth
while ******* things
out on the line

Today tastes like
Saturday sweetie day
peanut m n m's
and other sugary
treats hooray!

Today tastes like a trip to the zoo
animal antics
fruit bats
meerkats
and tamarin tantrics

Today tastes like
My son's hearty hugs
he's been away all week
with the scouts
a hearty dinner
whilst he recounts
his trip's losers and winners

Today tastes like
brightly coloured family
television shows
of sofa time and
cheesey toes
(before i put the boys
in the bath)

Today tastes like
relaxation
tea and more tea
Maybe I'll allow
myself a
cheeky glass of wine
to further relax
and unwind!
(http://hellopoetry.com/poem/818411/young-poets-write-for-mei-w­ould-ask-that-one-of-the-more-computer-literate-among-you-set-up-­a-collection-for-me-for-all-the-wonderful-contributions/)
Natalie Clark Apr 2013
We go together like
Digestives dipped in tea.
Your girlfriend and a hike.
A sting and a bee.

I love you like
Dogs love chasing postmen.
Halfords love a bike.
Teachers love red pen.

I need you like
Meerkats need you to go to a different website.
Aunt Josephine needed Ike.
Ghosts need to fright.

In summary, then,
We go together like
I love you like
I need you like

Really poor metaphors.
A reference to popular culture.
An ironic rhyme scheme and rhythm that vanishes towards the end.
Don’t you love a flirt, darling?
sometimes hes a blue balloon
His laugh is a dancing seal
His eyes are Meerkats
His voice is a deep roar
His temper is a cheeky monkey
bartleby Oct 2021
She's back at it again. The amount of her friends' impatience towards her psychotic thoughts can never be equated to her very own exhaustion of her entire being. She, for the nth time, wants to leave the world.

She slams the door real hard as she walks out the room, which she shares with her three roommates. She's out of the room as she's out of her mind. She seeks for a space where she can fit herself. The innocent fire exit has no choice but to accept again, the traitor tears, the unending complaints, and even the stomping on the floor and the punching on the wall. From her view on the 12th floor, the busy streets of G. Tolentino and Laong Laan distract her.

"I can't even understand myself, how am I supposed to comprehend this blur?" she's now even fighting with her alter-ego. Everything is a mess. Everything is blurred. She hates herself for being four-eyed. She has no choice but to go back to the room just to get her glasses with 200-175 grade. Now, everything is clear. Not as clear as her life is going, though, but, at least, she can now clearly see the chaos that is the city of Manila.

Her eyes walk through G. Tolentino and the bittersweet memories of the off-campus practicum come rushing through her mind. She would ride the jeepney from G. Tolentino-Laong Laan all the way to Casañas-Dapitan. From there, she would walk three blocks before she could reach the public school where she would teach ninth and tenth graders. She was glad because of the warm welcome of the students, and at the same time, mad, because of the horror of the reality in the public school — the politics among the faculty. She shrugged it off and just continued with what she was supposed to do.

After each shift, she would walk four blocks to reach the one-way street where she could ride the jeepney back to her area. She would alight at Delos Reyes Street so she could rest for a while in her unit. In-campus practicum's at 12:30 P.M. anyway, she thought.

And now she's back at the fire exit at the 12th floor. The rays of the sun almost blind her. She blames herself for abusing her eyes way back in her childhood years. Now, she can't enjoy the wonders of life without her nerdy glasses. She unconsciously moves her left foot away from the shade of the sun because of the trauma from last year. Two painful experiences race through her mind, as if it's a contest on which should be recalled first. Of course, the more painful wins — getting kicked out of an all-ladies dormitory, together with her girlfriend, because of their, obviously, ****** preferences. It still haunts her until now. The 2nd runner-up, on the other hand, is the less painful, and therefore, the consequence of the first painful experience — having to find another dormitory during broad daylight, because of course, nighttime in Manila is utterly dangerous.

Starting from Dos Castillas, they seemed like two meerkats digging a tunnel, finding for a place to live. Apparently, posting on Dorm Hunters in Facebook was not as good as literally going through the fires of all big streets combined — España, Lacson, Dapitan, and P. Noval. She was supposed to prepare for practicum, while her girlfriend was supposed to prepare for thesis, yet there they were, harrowing Manila because it seemed like a big head with strands of hair full of lice. After almost a week of searching for a place, they had finally settled to a totally different one from their previous dormitory.

And now she's back at the fire exit at the 12th floor. She hopes her roommates aren't there, but they are, so she has no choice but to calm down. Boy, was it difficult to calm down! She stares at the sun as it sets, until it is finally out of sight. A tiny object catches her attention —it is an airplane. An airplane which brings her yet again to another memory, and at the same time, encourages her on her dream to travel the world.

It was once again a competition on which should be set forth. Again, the more powerful wins — the memory of someone leaving. Way back in her childhood years, whenever she would see an airplane, she would envision them riding that airplane, and finally going back home. She grew up tired waiting. They eventually came home, but she didn't care anymore whether she would stay or she would leave again. News flash! She left again. And again. And again. Now it doesn't matter to her anymore whether they come home or not. She still loved them either way. She just stopped wondering, asking, questioning, and all the other synonyms of asking why.

The pain of that memory is so strong, she is excited to overcome it immediately with her dream of traveling the world. An imaginary globe appears right in front of her face. Several people of different races talk to her. Oh boy, was she excited! Oh yes, she is! She can't stop giggling from the thought of her travelling and speaking different languages.

With all these memories, she calms down and finally goes back to the room, where her roommates already fell asleep. The sultry from outside of the room gets forgotten because of the air conditioner, which calms her more. She goes up to her bed on the double deck and listens to worship songs to calm herself even more. She falls asleep so easily but her sleep gets interrupted right away. It's 7 'o clock in the evening and her roommates invite her to dinner. They decide to eat at McDonald's in P. Noval. She's still lost from the 'traveling' she did that afternoon. She's still not on her mind the entire dinner, until they return to their room.

She goes out of the room again, but not to stay at the fire exit, but to actually get some fresh air. Unfortunately, there is no fresh air in Manila. She notices how dangerous the streets in Manila are during nighttime. Although it is dangerous as well in daytime, the only difference is there is a sun. Different kinds of poor people are all over the streets of Manila and it haunts the hell out of her. It brings back the horrors and traumas from her past—being prone to accidents and misfortunes. She goes back to the fire exit and indulges herself to another reflection.

She went out to get some fresh air, but she only got her wounds fresh yet again.

She looks again at the view from the 12th floor and realizes how the streets around the campus of her university have been haunting her. She tries to overcome her fears with the good memories. This time, she wins. She, then, releases her emotions by writing everything. In this way, she thinks, she will be able to let go of everything. As soon as she finishes the last part, she runs out of words and decides to end everything —just like that.
written back in May 2016 for a school requirement. i know this is not a poem, but i have nowhere else to share this to.
Paul Butters Dec 2016
Sun streaming
Brightly beaming
Into my lounge.

Golden dawning
Lovely morning
I’m still alive!

My heart sings
My soul has wings
Happy day.

Streams of photons light may be
Scientists tell us factually
Still beautiful to see.

Meerkats gather in early sun
Gazing in awe at the powerful one
Knowing the day has just begun.

Time to walk down to the pub
Ready for some lovely grub
And still the sun is shining.

Paul Butters
My pub mate Norman will be glad I've gone upbeat and cheerful again. Love this sunny weather, even in Winter.....
Danni May 2014
I'm not sleeping
because I'm afraid of the nightmares
        I bare
when I'm asleep and no one's there.

I'm not sleeping
because I fear,
in less than a day,
she won't be there
or she'll push me away.

I'm not sleeping
because I think about the things to
        come -
the good and the bad.

The nightmares keep me up.
More attacks on the innocent
to be screened inside.
Mostly in schools,
once underground.
Flaw-full students,
ones with glasses or inconsistent
        tardies.
Or innocent princesses,
animated and have come to life.
Attacks from the power gone evil.
Principals become ******
and evil witches or queens grow
        the size of skyscrapers.

The innocent become meerkats
in the ground when the hyena
appears.
Travel great depths to find the one
to help them save the world.
Wake up before justice is served.

I'm not sleeping
because I can't stop the mare
and save my mind.
Wake up in fear
and then have her push me away.

But I need to sleep
so I don't explode
when I am pushed.

I'm not sleeping
because of fear.
brian mclaughlin Feb 2016
The world is filled with those who would steal your joy
their hearts are cold
all of life, every facet of it
must be completely serious
there is no room for fun in their lives

I first saw them as having cheated themselves out of life
but in truth it is not their fault
it is the bitterness they were raised under
their being kept under anothers thumb their entire lives
that's made them this way

How can we actually blame them
for what they've been taught
for what their parents and schools
have instilled in their minds
they know nothing but the rules that must be followed

To watch another step outside of those rules
to see them live their lives differently
to view others experiencing joy and happiness
only offers them great irritation in their gut
but all they know of jealousy is the definition of the word

You see, definitions are within the rules
feelings are not
feelings and emotions are to them
a weakness
something they have been taught has no place in life

I'm sure that I will be asked who are they
and I will answer an entire colony of meerkats
but if they actually need to ask
if they really want to know
their answer will best be found in a mirror
TERRY REEVES Feb 2016
AS I APPROACHED THE DOOR, A FROG CROAKED AT ME,
THE NOVELTY THAT PEOPLE HAVE IS A REAL MYSTERY,
I THOUGHT THAT I WOULD PICK IT UP - PUT IT IN MY BAG,
MUST HAVE BEEN ONE OF THOSE THINGS THAT YOU BUY FROM A MAG,
MY WIFE TOLD PEOPLE THAT TERRY WAS GOING TO NICK A FROG,
BUT IT WASN'T ON MY MIND WHILE I WAS WORKING LIKE A DOG,
THEY HEARD ME COMING - THERE WAS A MUFFLED CROAK FROM
A STRANGE BLOKE LIKE RIP VAN WINKLE WHO FINALLY WOKE;
MY BAG WAS FULL OF SUNFLOWERS, POTS LIKE SNAILS,
WINDMILLS, GARDEN LIGHTS AND MEERKATS WITH EXTENDED TAILS,
PLASTIC SIGNS TOLD ME TO KEEP OFF THE GRASS, CLOSE THE GATE,
IF YOU WANT ME TO COME TO THE DOOR - YOU'LL HAVE TO WAIT,
WHEN I GOT THE FROG BACK HOME, I PLACED IT BY THE DOOR,
IT JUMPED DOWN THE PATH AND CROAKED, 'I BELONG AT NUMBER FORTY FOUR!'
Suresh Gupta May 2019
When Day Fades into Night
05/28/2019


When day fades into night,
there's a certain transformation.
In creatures of all size,
To hunt and for relaxation

Cats of the savannah
With stealth in their stride
Wild dogs and hyenas
Following the pride

Eyeing the fields, are
Foxes and hounds
For a better view
Meerkats on the mound

The night urges get strong
In groups we conspire
For the satisfaction of this
Our primal, desires

Ignited by the genes,
Becoming victim of the senses
Transformation being complete,
Losing all the defenses

Female gender being cats
Males you can guess
Both being hunted, in the
Dangerous game of live chess
Paul Butters May 2020
Inspiration to the nation
That’s what I’m all about.
Inspiration to the world,
That without a doubt.

I’m a Meerkat teaching the kids to forage
Something much juicier than porridge,
But I show everyone how to dream
Of better pastures
Full of honey and whipped cream.

Meerkats may have lookouts, nannies and fighters
But they are smart little blighters
Capable of vision
In spite of facing derision.

Imagination is the key
To shaking off our shackles
(Whatever they may be)
And running free.

Paul Butters

© PB 4\5\2020.
First a sleep, then a bath, to come up with this one.
Levi Bradford Apr 2018
Cool zoo--
dry ground--
the kind meerkats treasure,
perfect for tunnels to escape sunlight,
and reside in--
be a part of--
whatever it is that's holding everything up.

It was December in Florida,
and the cold hung silent in the air;
as if someone spoke, heaven's branch might snap,
and snow would fall all at once,
and cover animal exhibits.

Christmas lights--
tiny suns,
each thinking its gravity formed the center of the universe,
connected by this green vein that seems to connect everything.

I watch my partner exhale,
my partner's breath resembling snow,
and somewhere in the distance,
we can hear a hyena cackling at my joke untold.
The first date I had with the person who is now my spouse, we went to the Lowry Park Zoo in Tampa for their nighttime holiday lights display. At the gate, the ticketer told us the park was empty. "No one came tonight." And asked if we wanted tickets for a different night. We said no, and explored the zoo alone in the darkness while all the animals slept.
Paul Butters Dec 2020
The wind and wild hounds of hell
Howl in unison
Over a desolate landscape.
Only a handful of us
Remain
Survivors of a cataclysm
That almost wiped out
The whole human race.

Now grand lady nature is taking back
Everything she ever lost
Or was robbed of.
Ivy, vines and other creepers
Clamber over the crumbling concrete castles
That once were our homes.

Roads crack asunder:
Cleaving city ravines where subways
Have collapsed –
New rivers for new times.

Angkor Wat has nothing on this:
City after city
Lost in tangled jungle.
Animal pets run wild,
Mating with wolves and wildcats
And God knows what,
To add to their strength.

Where nuclear power plants exploded
Unattended by humankind,
All is winter desolation,
Yet even there Nature is fighting back,
Reclaiming her grounds
Inch by inch.

Take a closer look at all these lands:
Nature is now flourishing:
Free of pollution
Carbon emissions
And Global Warming
Caused by “Man”.

The world has lost its top predator
And destroyer.
Meerkats and monkeys are the brightest now
Or maybe dolphins.
Dogs and cats are quite smart too.
But all in all
The world is so much better:
A vernal Paradise
For all
Except Humanity.

Paul Butters

© PB 21\12\2020. For Norman Stevens.
Paul Butters Sep 2020
It was hard in those trenches.
Cut off from the rest of the world.
Cold and wet
And muddy.

Left without the right equipment:
Brush handles for rifles.
The government sending the right signals
But sadly failing to produce.
We soldiered on,
Following the rules of engagement
Laid down by the top brass.
Keep your head down lad!

We dug in for weeks.
Not knowing what day it was.
No sense of time.
Our old routines long gone.
Nowhere to go
And nothing to do
But hide.

But then we emerged.
Looking forward to victory.
Marching heads aloft
Across the battlefield.
Confident that soon our boffins will come up
With some A Bomb to
Finish them off.

But wait.
The enemy isn’t finished.
Indeed it’s resurgent.
Gathering it’s troops
For a deadly
Counter-attack.

We may be war weary.
Fed up of the carnage
And having to hide
Like rats.

But, “Back to the trenches boys (and girls!)!”
Is the cry
From above.
Our commanders are in a panic.
They steer us to the nearest bolt hole
As Meerkats escaping a bird of prey.
For we may be weary
Of all this
But our enemy is deadly.
Our enemy?
You guessed it:
Covid 19.

Paul Butters

© PB 13\9\2020.
Topical.

— The End —