Paul Butters

There has to be a better way.
Than endless warring,
Selfish ways
And committing countless crimes:
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I have a picture of a tree
(In my minds eye)
But it’s not the vision
That you will see!
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Should we all stop eating meat?
No, we'll starve of protein doing that.
But yes, it's morally right.
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My dearest reader, seconds ago, before your
Decision to turn the page, there was nothing.
These very words were hidden away and thus
Unseen, to all intents did not exist:
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“Good morning and welcome to The Jeremy Kyle show. Today we meet a family in torment. First up we meet Lucy. She accuses her partner Jason of sleeping with her best friend Ingrid. We have to balance this: Jason doesn’t trust her and wants a DNA test on their children. Here’s Lucy on the show guys...

Hello sweet, are you okay?
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It's just after 5AM but I am up,
Compelled to write and share with you
Bad images
From video and TV.
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What is left to say
About our humdrum daily lives?
Monday to Sunday all year round
In time manufactured by mankind.
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Our galaxy dies,
A splash of water,
Sparkling in the sunlight on a tarmac sky,
Gently exploding with glittering streamers,
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I Play with Words,
It’s what I Do.
Just what are poems?
You have your View.
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Trillions of years from now
The scattered remnants of our Universe
Float in endless darkness,
All stars extinguished.
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Mad politicians threaten nuclear war
While madder religious maniacs
Send suicide bombers to kill and destroy.
Bombers brainwashed into believing
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((Slightly amended. Written for 'The Dropout' story project. Inspired by a scene in a telly western)) .

'May I kiss you? ' John asked timidly, fearing that she would say, 'No! '
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Genetic engineering’s here to stay
Possibilities are endless, scientists say:
Men mixed with anything we can find:
Oak trees, wasps, ants and elephants combined.
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Your shining eyes excite:
Those pupils, fathomless black,
That grab, and drag me down
Into bottomless pits;
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A Word:
A Magic Spell,
Like “Love” or “Death”
Or “Life”,
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"Nothing" is so hard to imagine,
For even empty space is something.
Nothing means "no thing",
Which means it cannot exist
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Spoon me some soothing sounds.
Make me swoon though it's not even June.
Croon beneath the moon
Amongst flowers in bloom.
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Busy humble bumble bees buzz and hum amongst my geraniums.
I squeeze past them as they hover
From flower to flower,
On my way into my electric blue
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It's an early hour
At least for me.
I'm half asleep yet full of thought.
As if my brain has churned through everything
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Life clings on
In deserts, ice sheets and hot acid pools.
Those selfish genes persist:
Batons in a Marathon relay race.
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