SAD

As I said this time last year,

We likely get just one taste of life.

So why do we spend so many hours

Watching daytime TV,

Engaging in petty feuds,

Following football and other trivial things

(In my particular case).

Money worries and relationships,

Celebrity and “news”,

Such preoccupation with the mundane.

So I must turn my mind to higher peaks,

Wherever or whatever they may be.

Puzzle the Purpose

Find The Way,

Give life meaning.

Overcome that Seasonal Affective Disorder,

To brighten every day.

As we head towards The Spring,

Think on what joys that’s going to bring.

Paul Butters

(This poem is dedicated to Mum (Louie (Louisa)), who passed away on 12\12\13).

Back Then

Back in the twenty first century

The world was in chaos.

There was no World Gov.

Democracy was limited to certain “Nations”

As such territories were called.

(We were so territorial then).

Millions died of malnutrition

In places called “Asia”, “Africa” and elsewhere.

Factions fought for land, resources

And “Religious” beliefs

That I will describe to you later.

In those days people were persecuted

For their race, gender

And any way in which they differed from “the norm”.

Anyone who spoke up against injustice

And countless other wrongs

Was branded “Un-PC”

Humiliated

Before his (or her) peers.

Those were troubled times,

Back in those “frontier days”.

Be thankful we are now civilised:

United Human Race,

Worldwide Democracy,

People Loving,

Compassionate

For the Good of All.

Welcome to my history class.

Let us learn from our mistakes,

And never repeat them.

Paul Butters

(Especially for my friend Paulo Gomes)

Sunshine Streaming

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