Contact: noun, \ˈkän-ˌtakt\
The apparent touching or mutual tangency of the limbs of two celestial bodies, or of the disk of one body with the shadow of another during an eclipse, transit, or occultation.

-Merriam Webster

Contact is so important.
And that's why if you can't contact me fully you won't contact me at all
And if I
Come closer
You push me away.
When all I want to do is send your soul a
Contact
A contact lens
In alignment with your eye
Your future comes into focus
And my love is blind
But you shut your eyes on it.

When I stand in front of your face
My lips receive your contact
As you speak sweet honey to me
Then slowly slip away

And I think
Did I reach the right number?
Or maybe I was just one of a number, for you
Because too many calls can cause static
When you've had more than one name on your contact list before mine
Or did I just not call at the right time?

Sorry I couldn't be in contact with you--
Not in the way she was
But I was making love in the REAL way a person does
Over long distance and over time
And you should know that I have been in contact, too
Every single breath I breathe, I breathe for you
And it affects the air current, and then the oceans, and the moon
You see
So when you see it, think of me
Because it is my message to you in the sky
My love written out loud in the stars.
When things get dark
I will always want to be the one to turn on the light for you
Feel the sunlight on your skin?
Well, that's my contact, too.
I’m shining, and I’m burning up my heart and soul for you…

But now my heart is broken
And my screen is cracked
And I seem to be unresponsive to contact
But the reality is that
If you want me,
You have to come and get me.
You have to be the one to touch me.
—and I want you to.
But I'm through fighting a one-sided battle just to lose
The most precious thing I had
Time and time again
Because I'll always lose it
If you don't choose to let me in.

I speak of your heart.

This distance separates us but is no different than
the wall of empty space that separates each atom, and
In fact, skin to skin is not even true contact.
So what makes life real?
Is it the contact between our bodies
Or our souls?
Now, this is the thing you’ll always have under your own control!

And that,
That is where it all comes right down to choice.
Because no matter how loud I make my voice
You have to choose me too.
And I’m another broken window who wants to hear
“I love you.”

I want to be swept up by love
And I want it to shake me, down to my soul
I want to be hugged so tight I’m left whole.
I want the light to penetrate my very being.
Two celestial bodies in perfect resonance
Enveloped in pure beauty up in the Heavens.

My love, what I want is the truest form of contact—

To drown in this love, and never look back.

The colour black is known to be a sad, depressing colour
Why?
Black is comfort
Black is bold
Black is beautiful

Then again,

Black is the absence of colours
Black is the vacant space that is unresponsive
Perhaps, that is why most poets like the colour black
It reminds them of their inconspicuous selves
The type of absence they feel consistently in their selfless, vulnerable hearts
It reminds them of themselves because they always
Give
Give
Give
And never get the chance to receive

Ruler of water
Walking on air
Antisocial Alien
She'll tell you to grow a pair

Not of this planet
She's ready to leave
Bored with human nature
Atmosphere hard to breath

Extraterrestrial
Don't touch her, she's cold
Unresponsive emotions
Can't fit in your mould

Ruler of water
Floating on air
Riddled with anxiety
Life just isn't fair

A Queen, individual
Heart racing, can't breathe
She knows what she can be
She just wants to leave

Anxious Aquarius
Lady of air
Can't breath your atmosphere
And you can't reach her
Hemosphere

To Rico

11th hour
11th day
11th month
All units from Tango Charlie 2
Urgent assistance required:
1x IC2 male: white surplus tie
Scholars’ best
Suspected faint
Tomb of the unknown solider
Heron gowns swipe  
1x nurse in attendance
Rose hair Bisto heart  
Male unresponsive nurse giving kiss of life
Cindy Crawford dorm
Tango Charlie 3 be advised
Epaulettes flurry Jerusalem Chamber
West Door now open
Dignitaries' B minor fugue
Poppy air bite

Forgive the night
And it's scattered ashes
It's morbid children
Casting lots for the
Bruised garments of a
Reluctant martyr
Satyrs and shaman
Sages and madmen
Derelict casinos
And broken boulevards.

Forgive the night
Fearless and feral
The desolate moon betrothed
To truant stars
That forgot to shine
And unanswered prayers
That forgot to die
Brooding orchids nodding
Towards an unresponsive sky.

Forgive the night
It's tapestry of shadows
It's soliloquy of loss and longing
It's conspiracies of silence
It's unrelenting chaos

Forgive the night
It's gospels of oblivion
It's prose written in curdled moonlight.

Forgive the night
It's orphans of Cain
Wandering, forever wandering
In kingdoms of perpetual obscurity
Carrying their mark proudly
As a ruthless crown.

This is the way of things here.

The ****** mountain suffers
The limp and empty rope
Of the falling novice
Like an impertinent scar.

Unruffled by the tension
Of his fingers clinging
She is unresponsive
To his young chattering bravery

Mad with lust and fear he tears
Her undeveloped frock
Buttons of ice rain down
Falling hands grip lose threads of snow

Her beauty needs a wild man
A sensual avalanche
Whose passion would fill her aching reach
With the bright substance of his wayward dreams.

One whose driving force ignores
The pretence of her slopes
And in whose thunderous arms
She learns the dance of hammering drums.

Now her body hugs the ground
Her open arms are wide
for all the weight of climbers
To mount her firm and passive shoulders

You sit, you watch. You wait;
a cloud of hope misted over your eyes.
The passing of time taunts and teases,
but to its dismay you remain unresponsive,
until it bores of its sore attempts and progresses.
Your figure fades to the background of surroundings.


Your story has a beginning,
but no end.
How long have you waited for the hand holding the pen
to return with your “happily ever after?”

What will you do if it, too,
has gone with time,
never to make itself renown
amongst those who have ignored your existence for so long now?


I know what you're missing.
I know that you know it, too.

So stand.

Climb out of the lonely hole of emptiness that slowly engulfed you,
all those years ago.

That hand?
It's not coming.
So instead,
I'll lend you one.

And we'll write that happy ending together.

Oh my my, this Facebook thing,
has a world of trouble it can easily bring.
Long, meaningless chatting, a cyber-fling,
And it only began from a new chat box ding.

The one thing you must at all costs avoid doing,
Is basing opinions on these girls, then actually pursuing.

As you tell her you’re interested, her brain will cook.
“He’s into my heart! Not that picture I took!”
The one that she uses as her seductive hook;
but as most cases play out, this is not how she'll look.

You can try and deny this, but proof lies in plain sight.
There are some exceptions, but mostly, I’m right.
A long legged appearance, instead has a midgets height,
and oh goodness, those rolls! Her "abs" looked so tight.

Well, at least she is chesty, there is no faking there!
But her best friends a water bra, life just isn’t fair.
You meet up and they’ve shrunk? Can’t help but stare.
And her clear complexion has changed? She has acne to spare.

So provocatively she chats, you can't resist, so compelling.
But just remain unresponsive, asleep, and safe in your dwelling.
Is she hot or bad-looking?  Well there’s no way of telling.
But she won’t look nearly as good, trying to save you from yelling.

So I hope you get my message, best to stay away from that game,
But I am assuming you won’t, teenage flirtation is impossible to tame.
I can only offer this advice, hoping it will keep you ridden of shame.
For as of now, if she tricks you, you have only yourself to blame.

Unresponsive
Silence aching in the pit of my stomach boiling the blood beneath my skin
Raging chaos
Weeping solitude until I fall asleep awaiting an explanation
Shaken glory
Magnifies in the heat of some miscommunication, lack of trust slithering out within each insult
Always trying to defy the laws of gravity
Unable to admit there are no such thing as superheros, magic wands, or even luck
I am bulimic to love and lust and all things good
Allergic to kindness and appreciating and all things right
I always get left in the middle, asking myself
What the hell is wrong with me

Black hole kisses
******* me out of myself.
Kisses wrapped in hugs.
Intimate moments at intimate times.
Memories to treasure
On a cold winter night.

We once played a New Year Game
In which you kissed a girl
Then swopped her with another:
Twenty or so kisses
To compare.

One kiss so wide
I could hardly stretch
To meet it.
Ending up
Trust me,
With the big fat unresponsive one
Too drunk
To even know
She was being kissed.

Recall one time being coolly kissed
Politely:
A kiss that said
In no uncertain terms –
If you want passion
You’d better go elsewhere
My dear.

For kisses are like handshakes:
Some firm and friendly;
Others too hard
Or too limp.
The young don’t always get it:
Lettuce limp
With their customary hands.
Physical expression
A dying art
Like conversation
In this digital age
Of mobile phones
Snapchats
And Insta-Images.

Time to rekindle the past,
Go back to playing out –
And away!
Get mud ****** mucky
All gloves off.
Back to Basics,
That’s The Way.

Paul Butters

© PB 5\2\2019.

now's the mistake; another 36thr. another of these
poor decisions, these stiff hands, and a once seventeen year-
old out in soul for remembrance of *******. and self-destruct-
ion. epochs ago to now, and in writ moment,
a loss of speech. isolation of a decade, but not always.
kinda like alonenness, but not always. kinda like the crossing of a des-
ert during multitudinal suns' rising; endless cessation
from night's innate lonesomeness. kinda, but not always, and
kinda breaking out with the freak outs. maybe there's become
a problem. (light's bleeding to the left) perhaps incite
a disconnection. perhaps that is forward by removal --
that all-evasive isolation. (unresponsive, compulsive) just touch
base again, but by this moment, may have slid right on by. grunged
pants, dirt streaks, to that tepid walk home as rains began. mud-
stains, and at least there's a good ******* cup of coffee waiting . .
        (broken thought)
                            when voice rings out,
                   "Cut your ******* hair!" as of feminism,
               always thought to be self-righteous ****;
                (again, breaking)
                   "Words are cheap, and breath is free." narrative
of own thought in anothers' voice. distracted; fatigued;
waking to coffee and toast. butter and jam, of course. realizing -- ever realizing -- that I will break every wine glass I ever own, and I will
leave it broken. avoiding the shards of shattered glass, at least,
until my foot drags the carpet. until my foot leaves inevitable blooded-trail.
and lips to wound, some kiss of peace felt from soul; after lips are no
longer of cheek, or of wound, they sing out for my life.
Always singing for life, when this voice always wails for the
absence of warming weather. And this voice is of perpetual
*******, often and forever repeating priorly stated words -- if only a line
back. If only there weren't this block. Past weeks, the past hours, have
been found .  . a ******* block. this voice is always falling deaf.

I only want to slip, silently into the crook of your arm,
slip into unconsciousness, love me
silence me, don't let me speak
or shout or fight with you.
I only want to be submissive, show you
I can be your passive
quiet, small, yet lustful mistress.

I only want to pass a peaceful night,
will you cover my mouth and stop the breathing,
the beating, the anger?
I only want to breathe your name
into your deafened ears, unresponsive
to tears and words of war but open
to the sounds of lust the way I open for your body.

Coughing Crazed
trying to feel things
trying to be happy
just two kids, guitar playing
broken hearts healing
we are cough crazed
and sad some days
Vibrations always find their way
through the soles of her shoes...

She hates the days
when her soul fades away
can't keep up with the daily day
and there isn't any way that
you could make me say that
I love the way life treats us
Like trust for something that rusts
I must keep my head off of the floor
metaphor number four
can ya catch me
or can ya catch no more?
I'm mean like that
and I ain't even roar
I bet your brain is sore
from this rap of sorts
I bet I ****** you off
down to your core, she's singing:

I'm just a sad clown
only around when I'm not wanted
we're just two coughing crazed kids
trying to not be forgotten
but now we've become unresponsive...

Coughing crazed
trying to feel things
trying to be happy
just two kids, guitar playing
broken hearts healing
we are cough crazed
and sad some days
Vibrations always find their way
through his finger tips like magic...

He hates it when they tell him
that he can accomplish so much more
do they not get it?
That he's trying to not be sore anymore
just close the drawer
it's time to move on but he won't forgive and forget
she stung him in the chest
he was crying from it
so overwhelming
everything turns
ain't it absurd
how much they expect
all he needs is respect
but they'll never give him it
so tired of trying
and that's when he starts singing:

I'm just a sad clown
only around when I'm not wanted
we're just two coughing crazed kids
trying to not be forgotten
but now we've become unresponsive...

**We're just sad clowns
only around when we're not wanted
we're just two coughing crazed kids
trying to not be forgotten
but now we've become unresponsive...

We make dead bodies out of our beds.
Sleep with them like our best friends.
Back to back,
Spine to spine.
Our relationships put pillows over,
The unresponsive corpses.
Suffocating the coal of closeness,
And we trample through our mattress.
Each thread is tied to the same letter in a vein connecting hearts.

Through ink and blood.

The noose holds our grieving neck
The pillow suffocates our  cowardice
A syringe stops guilt we can't make up
And a final bow and jump ends our regret


For not being what we once knew we should be.
I melt with you in the end.

Suicide pact friend ship.
Notes to the dead.

A glance
The little black figures
words
lines
of endless text
pass me by
my eyes
seeing nothing
but little
black
lines
shapes
dots
stripes
crosses
...
A stick
slathered in
nutella
chocolate, and hazelnut
the sweet
makes
me
numb
The crunch makes me
succumb
...
The sounds
pelting me
commands
inquiries,
things to do
things to hear
So
Much
Noise
Information
being blown away
in the wind
past my
unresponsive
ears
A lone
buzz takes
over
...
The sprite
gluggs down
my
esophagus
Burns
my lungs
A crinkle
from the now,
empty
bottle
...
The led
****** my fingers the
keys click clikety click as I
tap tapety tap
poke
****
the computer keys the
piano keys
ting
tingety ting
as I push
press
Smooth
that little piece of dirt I
rub rub Rub RUB
scratch SCRATCH
...
The frozen
unbelievable painfully
sweet sweetness
numbs my
tongue
cream
cold as
ice freezes
my brain
My brain
My brai
My bra
My br-
My b-
B-
b-
B-
bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb
...
...
...
Envelop­ed
in a blanket of
sweetness
my tongue is all I know
as I
Binge
To
Ecstasy

I told you that I didn't want to. That I can't control myself.
I made sure you knew so that when I tried to, you'd stop me.
You were supposed to stop me. You were supposed to say no.
I wasn't myself, I don't even know if I'd consider myself responsive.
The only reason I realized what was happening was because
I heard a song, a voice, a familiar tune. Reminding me of who I am.
And who I am should not be someone who sleeps with everyone.
This seems to happen to me a lot, I've noticed.
I don't blame you, I blame myself for trusting you.
Trusting that you'd remember that I didn't want to be with you.
Trusting that you wouldn't take advantage of me.
Trusting that you cared about me enough to just say no.

I fade like a dead match,
                 warmth still seeps..


But within I'm charred and
           unresponsive to your words.


You once lit my world, brightening

my every emotion.


But then you just faded like
           the space between moments.

Your light was there, then gone.

I wanted to rekindle us,
          but what is spent cant be brought.

You were the match that lit my wick,
         but then you were just charred
                                                        echoes.
­
We tried to relight what was there,
            but we'd burnt out to early.

even though I was lighting up,
                our corridors.
You were no longer there,
           extinguished before our time.

I knew we couldn't strike it again,
    it wasn't me, it was you.


And even though I shone for you,
        
    you could no longer hold a flame to
me.

And you
                    we, were just flickering
on the brightness of the past

What mists are these

That grow heavy in the palm

Making bruises weep

These mists that place themselves

By treaty or inheritance

With such ferocity

Embalm the soul with tears

Announcing their pleasure

To be resurrected

These mists that represent a tragedy

An imagination that beholds a bleeding

Yes, a bleeding from mine eyes

A conflagration of blood

That flares a collaboration of turmoils

With effortless deployment in the mind

Erratically as if impediment does not impose

Itself upon their mortal breach

An unresponsive pace that energizes

The tragedy of my great lament

Wind howls warning on the cusp of a ****** storm
Whispers of deep rumblings pass through the atmosphere like a shadowy phantom
Gnarled thoughts plague the conscience of the guilty
The stormy waves crash into a charcoal cliff, spraying silver foam of rebirth
A woman utters confessions to the unresponsive moon
Depthless eyes of the hunter track its innocent prey
A small child sings of a world far away
Someone wakes up screaming, their reality breaking like a sledgehammer through a windshield
Clothes torn on the floor, bodies entwining, trying to purge themselves of the monsters inside their souls
Passion blazes a wildfire, burning everything in its wake until it is snuffed
The storm comes, a roaring lion, attacking with vicious claws and hungry jaws
Death waits, arms open, to collect souls into its shrouded cloak
Temptations fly overhead like birds, settling in the nests that the foolish build for them
The storm ceases, the only sign the wreckage people drown in
But then the silent wind once again howls her warning, to those who bother to listen

We convened a conclave
Where the famiglia
Was casting sideways looks,
Keeping secrets from survivors.
Papa had passed,
His mantle drapping the remains.
And a day looms for its passing
To an unelected recipient
From the unresponsive benefactor.
Dirges were played.
Outside I lit a cigarette
And the cloud of smoke rose skyward.
The ballots have been counted.

Naked day, masked face, no sunlight
Unresponsive love, where are your friends
Preaching vanity, the cancer of insanity
Let's stay, let's stay, let's stay in here forever

Celebrity apocalypse, rapture on, intoxicate
Apocryphal day, cloudy haze, immaculate hypnosis rings
Eyes soar from tiger days when our future was a blaze
Imminent to fade away

Cascade into a passive rage
Unresponsive love enter the page
My words are trailing off
You're turning into sage
Silver skin, bright blue eyes
When will your statue come alive

Tally days, quiet wind, stale stench
Apocryphal, talk to you, old confidant
Your secrets aren't the same
Recite the days inside of fate
What you think you know

Recycled feelings left you dead
Enticing readings kept you silently said
My unresponsive love, please, get out of bed

I sit in a coffee shop
pump pump pump
goes my chest
pump pump pump
goes my diaphragm
pump pump pump
goes these hiccups
pump pump pump
it's rhythmic and
pump pump pump
obtrusive.
2. I lay in bed
pump pump pump
unconscious, unresponsive.
pump pump pump
A stranger presses two
pump pump pump
metal paddles to my chest.
pump pump pump
It's rhythmic and
pump pump pump
obtrusive and
pump pump pump
temporary.

There is so much indifference
Nothing seems to hold one’s interest
Wavering from one place to another
Mental inertia has set in
Hurting the soul, from all the bitterness
Walking down the path of indifference
Only left with a shadow, as a companion
There is something ailing, with no prognosis
Unidentifiable alienation of the self from the rest
Left alone with the legacy of indifference
Soul has become unresponsive to Love’s embrace

Standing on a strange street corner waiting
Knowing that soon you will be better has you anticipating
The wait is only minutes but they feel like hours
No umbrella despite the rain showers
Then you see him coming and feel ecstatic
But as he gets closer,his behaviour seems sporadic
Then the exchange goes flawless,excitement begins to grow
No words are spoken,not even for show
You finally get back to your safe place
Getting your rig ready is like a feverish race
The draw up goes smooth
And you tie off above the old faithful groove
As you poke to find the right vein,
When you can't you panic and it feels as if you are going insane
You finally see the beautiful red mix with the brown
As you push it in,you feel like a King would wearing his crown
But this time it's different,something is not right
You fall out instead of taking the flight
Friend finds you unresponsive and calls for help
Your mother arrives and lets out a blood-curdling yelp
You are aware of none of this because you are now dead
Leaving friends and loved ones filled with dread
You may cheat the Spector many times
Like a Judge,he has taken you for your crimes
The funeral comes and it goes
But the pain for your family continues to grow
Before you decide to selfishly satisfy your needs
Remember all the family you left to grieve
It is a smart Demon and it's easy to listen to
Just remember all the people you left behind that love you
It is an everyday struggle for a lot of us human beings
But next time you pick up the rig,try putting yourself in their shoes and see what the are seeing
Live every day as if it is your last
For the Reaper strikes ferociously fast

A veil masks the bride from a groom, covered in black and soot.
The dirt, built over so long, now forces the two deafened to each other.
They do not understand the other anymore, it doesn't not seem the bride cares.
She may take the veil off but chooses not to.
She enjoys the ignorance of her happy isolation, unwilling to face the world again.
Love has been abandoned from her eyes and ears, she sings to herself assuming she is happy.
Her make believe casts the groom into madness, unable to remove the veil unless she allows him.
They are not wed, she misses the world but wishes not to get hurt again.
The groom understands but wants to change it, though his counterpart is unresponsive.
He waits for her to take the veil off, for them to talk. 
Patiently, he wants not to disturb her with muffled noises through the soot.
He looks at other couples and fair maidens, but cannot leave while hope remains.
The hope of a love restored keeps him kneeling at the alter, and drives him insane.
He wishes not to abandon her, for he loves her madly but knows he has done wrong.
He has built the soot on the veil and he knows it.
He can take away the caked mask but only if she lets her.
He is told such is a lost cause, not even wanted by his wife-to-be.
He is unsure what she thinks, though he hopes it is of him.
He wants so badly to be with her, but he knows only time will tell when she will take the mask off.
Worse yet, he knows not whether her decision is final: her taunting no and her agonizing taunts.
He wants her back so very badly, but he does not know how she really feels. 
How do you abandon someone so close?
How do you leave someone you love?
How do you do what you think is right and prove your worth?
You fight.
You use hope as your shield, faith as your spear and love as your sword to fight adversity and right wrongs you don't deserve to amend, because everyone has a spark of good, and those truly sorry will prove their worth with all their might, no matter what the cost.