"mobiles" poems
For seventy or more years TV
And radio ruled the world,
Along with telephones.
But then computers made their mark,
Soon followed by mobiles, Smartphones,
Ipads, Bluetooth, Wifi and who knows what?
In no particular order.
So herds of sheep migrated
Into Cyberspace
Even Myspace!
Then on to Planet Facebook
And Terratwitter.
We talk with people we’ve never met,
And meet folk with whom we’ve never talked.
It keeps us occupied I guess,
And gives relief from stress.
These images that yet fresh images beget,
I’m sure Yeats would agree.
I tolerate these adverts flashing in my face
And soak up knowledge to my solid mental grace.
A world of wonders beckons in
The depths of Cyberspace,
And as a Nerd before they were invented,
I have to say I’ve truly found my place.
Paul Butters
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
~
Weeping hydrangeas spill
sapphire tears falling,
drenching grey scale gardens
suspended, free flowing
a mobile of distractions
on tiny threads scattered
above clouded daydreams
Worded floating silent streams,
spinning slowly, creating phrases
on whirlwind petals,
browned edges frame
whispered wonderings
sans answers
upon somber breezes
of yesterday’s questions
or
A cappella Hydrangeas
send harmonic petals floating
upon melodic wind chime breezes,
suspended soft concerto clouds
on love sonnet strings
tuned to a spring day,
as flowering symphonies,
acoustic mobiles of emotion
bloom within a garden
of daffodils dreams
in unison with lyrical
compositions of nature’s
enchanting song
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
An app for this
An app for that
An app even,
To feed your cat.
Mesmerised by mobiles
All these zombies shuffle along
Nearly getting run over
So internet throng.
Scanning with their debit cards
No time for cash
But I don’t trust these things
With their laser flash.
All this social media
Where is it going?
So much information
Toing and froing.
Good to keep in touch
And so easy to Google
Want to make a noise?
It’s better than a bugle.
Better check in on Facebook
So you all know where I am
Time to check my emails
To bin the latest scam.
But whatever happened to talking?
It’s now a forgotten art!
The cyber revolution:
This is just the start.
Paul Butters
© PB 19\3\22.
Mar 19, 2022
Mar 19, 2022 at 3:47 PM UTC
People are ... Funny ... !?!
They Now ... make me laugh ...
You talk ...
They DON'T ... listen ... !?!
MP's ... keep restricting ...
IGNORANCE ... in people ...
has now become ... SICKENING ... !!!!!
Kinda gets me to ... " Thinking " .....................
What a ... CRAZY WORLD ... !!!!!!
Girls ... Loving girls ...
Men ... Killing men ... !!!
Abuse of our children ...
by some who ... Teach them ... ???
But ......
What about those ... ?
with ... Abusive children ... ?!?
Those who ... Don't Care ...
about those ... who ... Made Them ... !!!
Adults are now ...
being chased by ... Children ... ?!?
Teenagers ........
RAGE ... !!!!!!!
Their acts of ... Aggression ...
are now ... OFF THE GAUGE ... !!!!!
Words on ... This Page ...
are my feelings ... Today ...
What more can I say ... ?
I write things ... This Way ...
to avoid seeing life
behind bars ... in a cage ...
Seems like ...
... " End of Days " ...
is Not ... far away ... !!!
But Many ... DON'T LIKE ...
The things that I say ...
because .....
Things that I say ...
Reflect on ........................................
What's TRUE ... !!!!!
But Many think wrongness ...
is just .... TV News ....
But ....
" Some of it's " ..... True .......
and can happen to ... YOU ... !!!
So ....
What would you do ... ?
if ... Sadness and Misery ...
Tainted ... your view ... !?!
Probably ........
LOSE YOUR COOL ... !!!!!!!
Be an *** ...
or it's ... Mule ...
Give in ... to clues ...
that you ... HAVEN'T BEEN ... true ... !!!
True about ... " Things " ...
that ... Luxury brings ...
Like ... " Flash Golden Rings " ... !!!
or ... Diamonds that ... BLING ... !!!!!
Well ...
Here's the ... " Dilemma " ... ???
Life is for ... LIVING ...
but now we see ... KILLING ...
for ... Mobiles that ... " Ring " ... ?!?
or Jewellery that ... BLINGS ... !!!?!!!
So ....
What will you choose ... ?
to think you're a ... KING ... ?
cos' of ...
Your .... Diamond Ring .... ?
and .... wait for the ... KILLER ...
to come with ... " The Sting " ... !?!
Oh now ...
Just for you ladies ...
Let's ... " Rework " ... the scene ...
You've got to ... Realise ....
Luxury's ... for a ... " Queen " ...
But .....
to those who ... Don't have them ...
Your Bling ... is ... OBSCENE ... !!!!!!!!
Then YOU ...
like the ... Fellas' ...
Might find that ... " Your Dream " ...
is SHATTERED ... One Night ...
by a ... RUTHLESS ... " Street Team " ... !!!
I'm CHANGING ... like seasons ...
because of ... " These Reasons " ...
cos' actions ... some make ...
are Equal to ... TREASON ... !!!!!!!!
I REALLY ... am Dark ...
like that man ... Liam Neeson ...
This life has ... MORE MEANING ... !!!
than ... " Custom Made " ... Jewellery ... !!!
Like Bruce ...
when i'm writing ....
My fists ... bring the ... " FURY " ... !!!!!
cos people act ... CRAZY ... !!!!!
Their outlook seems ... " Hazy " ...
to make themselves money ....
Their Slim's ... REALLY SHADY ... !!!!!
Do you ...
Trust your lady ... ???
to bring up ... " Your Baby " ...
When Coc' ... is ... " The Drug " ...
she likes to take .... DAILY .... !!! ? !!!
Well ..........
Maybe just ... " Maybe " ... ???
If you see ... what I see ...
when you ... look around you ...
You may just agree ...
with ... A Brother ... like me ...
The world we now live in ...
is TRULY ....
..... " CRAZY " .....
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 6:32 PM UTC
We give expensive gifts to our children on
Birthdays,
Achievements,
Marriages,
Adulthood (21 years),
and on and on.
Have we ever given them?
The Quran-Islam
The Bible-Christians
The Bhagavad Gita-Hinduism
The Tohra-Judaism
Guru Granth Sahib-Sikhism
Kojik-Shinto,
Avesta-Zeroastranism.
In today's world of chaos our children need them.
If learning is important why not between the pages of the holy books.
Let's make our holy books as important as our mobiles.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 6:47 AM UTC
My mobile screams
Its Taylor Swift " I wished it was me"
Wake up folks its 6 am
Let's face another hectic day
Another day of terror and challenge
Unlike the good old days
when life was even simpler
when mobiles were not a necessity
but communication still exists
in close knit families
Life was even greater
When smartphones and computers
were gadgets of the future
Still relationships went on smooth and happier
Life was even lovelier
when Apples and Blackberries
were merely fruits
for juices and desserts.
but still we need to strive
to face another day
in this concrete jungle
and adapt our life....
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
Walking along the narrow track,
parents shepherding ice cream kids,
making way for pushchairs, making waves.
The lakeside watch on ducks and swans.
The nodding smiles and genteel grins,
like a 50's Sunday promenade,
while walking sticks wait by benches
dreams die when mobiles chime.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 5:41 AM UTC
In the name of democracy
An entire state is terrorized
Decade after decade
Freedoms are curbed
Protests are brutally suppressed
People are brutally oppressed
Education is diluted
In the name of democracy
The Army turns from protector to oppressor
Every soldier marching past
With his head held high
Sounds the death knell
For every man, woman and child
In the name of democracy
Soldiers break into houses
Wielding their massive rifles
As if it is their birthright
As the peace and harmony within
Is replaced by abject terror
In the name of democracy
All morals are flung out of the window
As the women are *****
The men who challenge this unspeakable atrocity
Are swiftly silenced with bullets
As the children begin screaming in terror
They are molested, one by one
Until the trauma overcomes them
Such that, they lose their voices
They lose their minds
They lose their hearts
Meanwhile, the soldiers slip away quietly
Having completed a good day of work
In the name of democracy
In the name of democracy
India and Pakistan, warring for decades
Use Kashmir as a bait
As a means to satisfy
Their unquenchable thirst for power
As the potion simmers on
Fuelled by hate on both sides
Curfews and lockdowns follow with alarming regularity
Schools and colleges are shut down
Political organizations are banned
The Internet is crippled
Mobiles and landlines are killed
Even the most feeble of all protests
Is brutally quelled with bullets and grenades
In the name of democracy
Consent is dead and buried
As nationalism takes centre stage
The world watches on silently
Allowing India, the oppressors-in-chief
To reclaim the moral high ground
And suddenly proclaim themselves as saviours
Leaving the beleaguered Kashmiris no choice
But to bow to their captors
Their dreams of self-determination
Shattered ruthlessly in the course of a mad, mad day
In the name of democracy
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 1:18 PM UTC
where have conversations gone
long time passing
where have all our love words gone
long time ago
where have all our love words gone
mobiles took them, every one
when will we ever learn
I hope they will return
where have all the mobiles gone
long time passing
where have all the notebooks gone
long time ago
where have all the kindles gone
turned to tablets, every one
when will we ever learn
there will be no return
where have all the tablets gone
long time passing
where have all the smart phones gone
long time ago
where have all these gadgets gone
been recycled every one
never they will return
never they will return
where have all the users gone
long time passing
where have all the texters gone
long time ago
there lie all the facebooks slain
people try to speak again
when will we ever learn
hope they again can learn
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC
Currently we judge,
Looking at angles to win
Just to please your own mind.
We throw insults and we fight,
We ignite fuel to our fingers
Tapping away like it's a race for popularity.
The world spins and spins,
Yet nothing really changes
Because we just keep spinning.
But it's as if we have weaved
Ourselves into a ditch of
Despairing linear paths.
As we watch, we listen, we observe
And try to become something else,
Something we're not supposed to be.
Just to let everyone know
That you watch the same things,
That you do the same things.
But then after it all we realise
As we grow older and as we mature,
We merely did nothing for ourselves.
We just followed the same road,
We followed the same destiny
And we lose ourselves in our journey.
At the end of it all we start to notice
We have taken the wrong path,
And the other roads are too far away.
So we turn into the side-roads,
Which lead to nothing but plagued floors
Broken doors and empty souls.
Mobiles have taken love out of ***
Generations have missed out
How it feels to actually be connected.
You make love and your phone rings,
People stop to answer like your moments
Aren't precious enough with loved ones.
We eat meals at restaurants
With our families and friends,
All I see is arched necks and fiery fingers.
I wish I was in a time when we spoke
To one another about our days,
Not about a video that has gone viral.
I wish that as I grow and my children
Will walk amongst the earth I have,
It won't **** them into inevitable fates.
I don't want them to be another
White sheep hopping the same fence,
Like the rest of this miserable world.
Systems have taken individualism
Out of individuals and get labelled weird,
They give us titles like "OCD, ADHD".
I'm not either, and I don't actually have
A label to my name, yet I feel I should
I feel why shouldn't I?
After all I like to think different,
I like to think one day we will see
The clear glass in front of us.
But most of all, I truly hope one day,
We can become a better world
Instead of repetition in characters.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 6:04 AM UTC
1
*Tap, tap, tap
Pinch and expand
Pinch and expand
Tap, tap, tap*
I love this dance you do
my dearies, each one of you
on your mobiles and devices
We too play with our fingers
and keep our eyes fixed
on your pockets and purses
and wallets
*Tap, tap, tap
Pinch and expand
Pinch and expand
Tap, tap, tap*
Stay diverted -
we love this what you do,
me Fagin
and all me children
and Jack Dawkins too,
that Artful Dodger
2
Come on, dear children of Fagin mine
this here is Paradise
All these people with eyes
and fingers on their devices
and brains in idle mode
in these crowded malls -
it’s our Paradise, dear babies mine
Whilst they are so preoccupied
let’s to our devices
And we can pick, pick, pick
whilst they tap, tap, tap
3
Ah ha, keep tapping on your mobiles
each one of you, my dearies
with your eyes on the mobile
when at the shops and in crowds
and at new year celebrations
Keep your eyes there, indeed
each one of you, my dearies
Tap, tap, tap
pinch and expand with 2 fingers on the screen
eyes mostly there on your devices
*Tap, tap, tap
pinch, pinch, pinch*
and let your two fingers
burst like shooting stars
All like a dance, as in a dance
each one of you in public spaces,
my dearies
so do the merry dance of your fingers
and eyes on the devices
And we?
We love this, me Fagin
and all me children
and Jack Dawkins too
(that Artful Dodger)
while You
tap, tap, tap
and we
pick, pick, pick
at this our harvest at shopping malls
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 8:35 PM UTC
He took his lass to the local flicks
By heck he was so very eager
But when his hand slipped down her back
She said, “I smell Swarfega.”
Not so easily discouraged
He went and scrubbed his hands
But when he got back to try again
She’d gone, and thwarted his plans.
They didn't have mobiles in those days
Further contact there couldn’t have been
So he went to the pub and stood with his mates
And bragged about the heaven he’d seen.
The tales those young men told…
©Joe Wilson – Bragging rights, 1950’s style…2014
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 11:18 AM UTC
I was tired of the routine,
In fact exhausted,
"Dinner is ready."
No response,
"DINNER IS READY".
Coming!
No one at the table.
The T.V. is on full blast,
There is an interesting match,
Somebody is on the mobile,
Kids on the PlayStation,
My pretty daughter on the internet with her boyfriend.
So I disconnected the WIFI,
Unplugged the T.V.,
Hid the mobiles and playstation.
Everybody was at the table,
Eating, talking and laughing as a family.
From then on Rule Number One:
No T.V., mobile, computer or PlayStation during breakfast, lunch and dinner.
I have my family with me.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
horror stories muffled by pillow forts and blankets that stretch across the
vast of my beloved
room.
in hiding--
your young skin
is shielded
by a lonely
shadow dancing
with sunlight.
the room's symphony plays on as
a crescendo of
soft laughter
and light footsteps
cues in.
magazines sprawled on
the carpeted-floor
jennifers & ashleys
glamorously sporting
shiny hair.
away messages
are synonymous
to x's and hearts
bordering
your
besties' names.
and these are the best
years of your life
but it just feels like dirt
to your name
being young
gets old.
mobiles in purses
strapped to your chest
"I HEART NY" keychains
dangling by the locket
that frames your blurry
picture of
him.
you feel so important
surrounded by friends
and people who
shower you with
lots of
cheap love.
you don't care
about what you don't know
and it's easy
living
when all you're living
is the lie of happiness.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC
THE CALDER TREE
( for Connie )
The tree stands
naked
against a sunset
leafless.
She cries for the tree's
lost leaves.
I tuck her into bed
promise to make her
a tree
a la Calder.
Dawn sees the tree
adorned
in mobiles...wind chimes
where leaves should be.
The tree sings
the morning.
Mobiles sings the day
that is
to be.
The Calder tree
orchestrates this Thursday.
Birds are
our choir.
She stands under
understands
the moment
as it
sings.
She the one "stabile"
beneath the cascade
of wind chimes & mobiles
that the morning plays.
The tree
forever planted
in her mind
now
all of her
outstretched
as she listens to
Time singing.
***
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 2:49 AM UTC
At times, I just watch people
Like now - I see a pregnant woman
I think, what she must be thinking
Maybe - ' whether it's a boy or a girl'.
Crossing the Christmas Tree
I see an old man talking to his wife
In so many years of togetherness -
he still finds her benign.
As I sip my red velvet latte
My eyes fall on a couple
Both are sharing the same table -
yet conversing through their mobiles.
Eavesdropping upon the conversation
A daughter tells to her father
The best new year gift for her -
if he stops smoking forever!
I stop looking around for a while
And I close my eyes to realise
There is a world inside me -
that the adversity just hypnotized!
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 6:18 AM UTC
Snow, Soft White and Lovely......
The thing of Childhood imagination
Wind Curling it to Drifts and Excitation
Snow Dancing in a Twirling Ballet
Items covered where ever they lay
It covers the grime and Looks so clean
Yet as deadly as a bullet and twice as Mean...
The Halloween blizzard, we got 3 Feet of snow
A Man in his truck that ended up stuck
He chose to walk it to find Some Gas
You soon find when your snow blind
There is no direction or destination to find
Where they found his truck They Searched
Snow Mobiles on the fields Searched Avast
Not till Easter Snow melt he was found at Last
10 feet from his truck, well they didn't Know
He was Buried under Snow Plow Furrow.....JMF 2/3/15
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
There are two marionettes
Facing one another
Parts strung together
And dangling
Like mobiles over a crib.
The first has a head
And a neck
It has shoulders
Strung to fore-arms
Wrists and hands
It has the swell of hips and thighs
But only ever under fabric
It has a face
But no jaw
And only an upper lip
And no forehead.
The second marionette
Grotesque, and barely human
Has two small *******
Clinging to a sternum
Like sad droplets of water
A ribcage spanning
Like thin fingers
Across a chest
A bulbous young stomach
Hips and thighs unclothed, unappealing
Dappled flesh
Calves
Feet
Jaw
Forehead
Balanced precariously atop one another
Joined with a string.
When they step to one another
The marionettes mesh
Make a mess
And cannot escape one another
And move awkwardly
Haphazardly
Trying to conceal the Other
Trying to conceal the whole
Hoping only the string shows.
But the string is tangled
In the parts
Caught between the joints
Obscured by the puppet limbs.
Occasionally, a glimpse.
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 8:15 AM UTC
Last night I saw a man hanging from a traffic light
just for a second
Framed in the yellow light of dusk,
it looked like a movie cover.
He was flopped over like a dead fish
his feet were just a little too large
and I tugged at my beau's sleeve to ask if he was there when
the world turned
and just like that,
he was gone.
If impermanence is a virtue,
life must be something worth having
and a legacy that can be dashed away
should be no scary thing and while
I am not really willing
to try and follow
that advice
it is a small thing I think on
when the hangmen grin and whisk away
on their strings
baby mobiles
turning towards oblivion
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
I walk to the pub or club,
Talk with folks,
Go play table tennis
Or shop.
But apart from all that chat,
Where do I get my “World View”?
How do I know what’s going on
Outside my little comfort zone?
I could even be another Jim Carrey
In some “Truman Show”,
Being filmed for some TV soap
That I’ve never seen
By Big Brother cameras everywhere;
Feeding off fake news
About the universe outside.
For everything we “know”
Comes from TV
And our mobiles
And PCs.
It could all be as false
As Trump says it is,
If he really exists!!!
Where is the Truth?
Will a No Deal Brexit be a catastrophe
Or a breeze in the park?
Are our “Enemies” really in the wrong?
Is the wider world anything like
It’s painted
On TV???
The con men, and women
Probably have us
In their pockets.
So all we can do
Is be as vigilant
As we can
And hope
That true Reality
Will be detected
At last.
Paul Butters
© PB 19\8\2019.
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 5:38 AM UTC
I didn't take a photograph of the statue of Robert Burns.
His sightless eyes were looking out over Dunedin,
the most Scottish town in the southern hemisphere,
and there was a seagull, not a pigeon, standing on his head.
I would have called it "Robbie Burns and Friend."
And I didn't take a picture of the bus shelter
painted all over with jungle foliage and a tiger
peeping out over the simulated signature of Henri Rousseau.
The title would have been "This Bus Shelter is a Forgery."
Neither did I photograph another painted wall,
one round a cemetery full of ornate and sombre tombs,
with a large and skilfully executed advertisement -
Renta Sanitarios Mobiles (Hire Mobile Toilets).
It would have been called "Is there no Respect for the Dead?"
I didn't take the photo of a Fijian policeman.
A pity, for he had such a practical uniform,
very smart and cool,
in a tasteful shade of policeman-blue,
based on the traditional sulu
with a striking zigzag hem.
The title would have been "A Policeman in a Skirt?!"
I couldn't take a photograph of sunset over Popocatépetl
– although the sun was setting in a red and golden haze,
and the most romantically named mountain is just
what you imagine a perfect volcano should be,
even to the wisp of steam at the peak
– because the sun was actually setting over Ixtaccíhuatl
and "Sunset over Ixtaccíhuatl" doesn't have quite the right ring
The shape of the mountain is not very picturesque either.
Yes, I would have called that one "Sunset over Popocatépetl"
– if I could have taken it.
My camera wouldn't focus on the crescent moon
hanging over the Egyptian skyline,
horns pointing up, so close to the Equator,
and the evening star (Venus or some more ancient goddess)
just above and almost between the points.
If that one had worked it would have been called "Islamic Moon."
I couldn't possibly have taken a photograph
that would do any justice to the young piano student
in a Hungarian castle
hammering out Liszt as if the hounds of hell were after her,
but if I could, I would have had to call it "Apassionata."
And I didn't even have time to get my camera out
to take a picture of the wild humming bird
darting green and unconcerned
among dilapidated tenements in the heart of Mexico City.
But that living jewel shines bright in my memory,
even without a photo.
I don't know what I would have called that one,
and I'm sure it doesn't matter.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 9:48 AM UTC
The setting Sun in the horizon yet
slowly readying to dip in deep waters
crimson sky with wonderful hallow
birds flying fast to their abodes
Young boys and girls splashing water
Playing throw ball and jumping
and tucking under high waves
some swimming in the murky sea,
their loud laughter filling the beach
with joyful abandonment.
Grand parents driving in horse carts
youngsters riding fast on horse backs
Camels with small families on their mounts
Guided by their owners with a whip in hand
small children building sand castles
parents overlooking their activities
and clicking photos in mobiles
yes, a Sunday evening to beat the heat
I sat guarding the baggage of my family
Watching all the fun, enjoying the sea breeze,
with peanuts in hand, waiting for them to return.
Suddenly there were shrieks of people
Children running around and
people rushing to gather them
calling out their dear ones.
when rain drops fell on my head and face
soaking wet my shoulders with chillness
I realized what’s the commotion is all about.
The beach wore a special look all of a sudden
with a veil of pouring rain …
The fading sunset painted the crimson horizon
With patches of dark clouds decorating the sky
Like big black beads dangling with pearldrops
jingling the arena with sounds of joyous music
The sudden downpour filled the air with
Innumerable smell s- stench of fish water
Scents from the crowd, smell from eatable shops
Stink of horse, camel dung, dog **** and trash!
I gathered the baggage trying to protect them
within my arms and covering with my dress
running towards a nearby shelter at a shop
turning to see if any one rushed to help me
But the first rain drops mesmerizing them
they forgot me and their belongings
Dancing and hugging in the first rain,
They were in a joyful world of laughter!
****************************************
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
there is principle, there is mad luck on the streets
but then again, i have neither one.
i assume the idleness of poles underneath the roof of a cafe in Poblacion
and wonder where all my poems go,
the value they impose -- only there's implosion and not so much sense
so i go out to seek tenderly in the night,
a cheap moon trapped underneath the bottle of a pilsner
as i hear one of the patrons call out
my solitude like a ********** on all fours;
one afternoon pursues a following.
i have wasted my time writing and stopping
to watch stray hounds pant and
**** on the hot asphalt of Plaridel.
the papers retch at tyrannies.
hands for mechanisms configured to
a heady bias of probabilities.
the house next to me is being
overhauled and i imagine the incredulity
of things not their own meanings.
a pair of old Chuck Taylors on the bedspread, a decrepit bed for making love
or passing time or wasting the night away.
somewhere, someone is reading my poems and weeping at the cadence.
most do not notice -- it was the caprice of things not mine to commandeer.
the sound of stone masons hammering
boulders double the melancholia.
the deliberate sieving of sand and stone
felt like sandpaper air.
the matutinal sky split into dire condition
much like mine: becoming and unbecoming.
all the ******** are out in the streets
with ladies wuthering in high strides.
all the priests are in their rendezvous,
killing buddha heads.
the police have silenced the sirens
and behind pairs of old navy blue slacks
and mobiles covered with dust,
the captives scream mercy.
all the ATMs drone the pither of metal mouths.
a widow in Bocaue holding a picture
of the departed.
i look up and see my face in the sky:
if only i could **** the man and be the man,
fill his shoes with flesh, his movements my emulation, his enigmas my clarity, his day old denims my best dress.
more than beer and cigarettes have done me in and more to myself much no less
than a cat hit by a speeding bicycle
somewhere in Padre Faura.
madness hurries like a lover and hands me
a picture of the moon.
i've got something and that's good enough
as the police leave the grime of times
and evict drunks off the streets of Malolos,
as the priests step into the showers, naked
and bloodied just like the ordinary man,
as the cat that was hit
by a bicycle
goes back to the dark
licking the salt off the wound,
bone fractured, still alive on the hot roof.
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 5:39 AM UTC
Oh, lady fountain above
Sing to me with your long laced words of love
Take me away - into the Heavens above
“Look here, peasant say -
Nothing is above, nor below your stand.
All is equal in mind of me -
For the Heavens is not something that you see.
It’s a land void of cold and warmth -
And a land where bodies don’t count.
Heaven is a place where thoughts don’t roam -
It is a place without prayer or hope.
It is a place where action is blank,
And a place where words don’t voice -
Heaven is as far away as the Sun,
And as close as your own heart.”
I looked at the lady in my dreams with curiosity -
A glare of confusion written over my face.
I begged for a clearer translation,
For my mind is not suited for riddles on Sundays.
She borrowed a second, and then bowed to the right -
She smiled at herself, and then took off in flight.
She disappeared in a flash out of my sight -
I ****** my inability to comprehend,
And my insignificance in the beginning-less end.
I sat down where I was, and I pondered for a while -
The lady fountain and her charm,
Her wisdom and her flattering song.
She spoke without speaking,
And I listened without hearing -
I felt left in the dark, while she flew freely
Somewhere within the world of the holy unseen.
A week went by, and the skies changed rapid color -
First from blue to orange to green,
Then it all faded to an indigo sheen -
Shinier than metallic mobiles
And grander than the highest skyscraper.
The hues sanded time into fragments of measurement
And faded quickly into normality within the Now.
On that new Sunday, the lady fountain appeared again to me.
She brought with her a friend of angel wings -
They both said “Hello” and flew in transparent circles,
Claiming to be God’s favorite children.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 6:02 PM UTC
Succulent, seductive floral displays please my senses no end.
Spring is here!
Promise of countless flowers
As Summer surrounds us with scorching sun.
Before long those Daffodil buds will trumpet out
And cherry blossoms will brighten each lengthening day.
Birdsong serenades us
In a twittering chorus.
Nature’s Jazz wakes me up
With every blushing dawn.
We live in Paradise
Yet keep our senses closed.
Immersed in mobiles and social media
The wealth of nature is ignored.
So open your eyes and listen with those ears.
Stop bombing neighbours
And robbing the poor.
Love Life
Embrace Mother Nature
And make the most
Of what Providence has provided
For us all.
Paul Butters
© PB 4\3\2022.
Mar 4, 2022
Mar 4, 2022 at 6:44 AM UTC