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How many times can I say
I don’t want to die
Or extol the bountifulness of Mother Nature.
And how many times can I gasp
At the wonder of our ever-expanding universe?
It is what it is
As I’ve said on many occasions before.

Yet that mysterious aura of spirituality still surrounds us.
Perhaps my Muse is having an early Autumn break.
We still are but tiny ants
Looking up and dreaming
About what lies beyond
Our star speckled night-skies.

It took us ages to find that we all come from Africa
That The Earth is not the centre of The Cosmos
And that really we know next to nothing
About anything.

We were so easily ravaged by a tiny virus called Covid
And still struggle against the excesses of Global Warming.
So much more still needs to be done.

It’s The Anniversary of Nine Eleven,
Queen Elizabeth II is dead.
King Charles III has taken the throne.
The kids are back at school now
And in the blink of an eye
It will be Christmas.

Paul Butters

© PB 11\9\2022.
 Sep 2022 Walter W Hoelbling
A M
it's no secret now
that demons dance inside me

usually they're quiet
but sometimes they get too loud

you've come too close
for me to hide

i am so ashamed
so scared

i don't love these parts of me
so how could you?
We don’t see the carrots to be cut,
We see the sharp knife that could cut us.

We don’t see the bridge,
We see the other side of the railings.

We don’t see painkillers,
We see medication we could drown ourselves in.

We don’t see the train,
We see the tracks we could lay on.

We don’t see the nice view,
We see the cliff's edge we could jump off.
summer has entered my window for the first time
children run and laugh in the garden
the mist surrounding the blue mountain is clear
a warm sun is gradually flooding my room
Taken by the reckless wind
Lost in distant clouds
         And here the fall of her hair
         Tethers my mind to the sky
“where summer’s bronzes dull and sink”

the trees are like
wet coat hangers,
holding up the leaves,

my cat is frosty like
an october morn,
sleeping on the sill,

everything is dripping
like a wet pair of
jeans taken out of the wash,

the sky wears its greys
of cloud, dim and dramatic
it opens summer eyes.
When your heart breaks, the shards fall into your spirit, piercing your soul!

Often simple mistakes cost us so much joy, of course the payment can be taken from us over our lifetime.
We carry pain like a secret note safely tucked away but always near.
I can read aloud my suffering but it will never describe my struggle.
I am tangled within from a love without and she mangled her heart, because she never held back.
So I am broken again, like I'm living a loop and because I was late, her sails had took wind.

My home is now empty and her backs to my view and never did she turn to say,
I loved you
spirit calls my name as he passes overhead
child cries for mommy 400 years dead
silent disc over trees with faces alive
fireballs falling but never arrive
lights flicker in room 308
unseen occupant says the room is great
numbers , coincidence a daily routine
I've been touched in the dark
if you could see what I've seen
I am terrified and yet drawn near
my curiosity outweighs my fear
they watch me while I'm sleeping
from home to home they follow
they noticed that I noticed them
and without them I am hollow
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