Values

 

(Gandalf via Google)

 In my late teens I would wonder

What is The Purpose of Life?

What should I Value?

What is truly Good?

But now at sixty six it seems so clear:

Life per se is what matters.

The wonderment

Of selves

That know they are selves.

Of sentience married with intelligence.

The miracle we call Life.

At nineteen I said

That the First Priority

Was Survival.

I wrote a thing called “The Bedrock”

To grow this theme.

And what was it that had to survive?

It was living beings

Nurtured by Mother Nature.

I am a “Lifist”

If you will:

Cherishing all that lives.

Humanist Plus

And more than Conservation.

Health and Wellbeing

For The Common Good.

A touch of Socialism

And Equal “Opps”.

I coined the word “Positivism”

To sum it all up.

Is this all poetry?

Maybe not.

But the greatest poem lies all around us:

The very world and universe

In which we live.

Paul Butters

© PB 18\2\2019.

Truth

Be careful whom you talk to

And what you say,

For things can be twisted

Any which way.

These are troubled times,

That we all know.

It’s oh so hard to tell

Friend from foe.

I love to be open and express my self,

But some things can’t be said: they are not allowed.

We have to stay silent I’m afraid to say,

And be PC to fit in with the crowd.

Oh to be honest

And tell the truth,

Like it was

In the days of my youth.

Paul Butters

© PB 6\2\2019.

Kisses

Black hole kisses

Sucking 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 sucked mucky

All gloves off.

Back to Basics,

That’s The Way.

Paul Butters

© PB 5\2\2019.

Oh Brexit!

Oh Brexit!

Where is the Exit?

You can’t make your money

You Tory Grandees,

Nor can you

Remainer MPs.

We’re running right into a very hard cliff;

Before we get out we’ll all be so stiff.

There’s no majority for any option

And Theresa May’s deal is but a concoction.

Vote after vote and endless debate.

March twenty ninth is the Closing Date.

Can we escape?

I really don’t know.

The media are loving this pantomime show.

This sorry charade is filling the news,

We’re all sick of hearing everyone’s views.

Please get me out of here

I hear you say

Surely, surely there must be some way!

So come on politicians

Get your fingers out

And show these Europeans

We still have some clout.

If we can’t do that then just pack it in

And throw the whole thing right into the bin.

Whatever we do I’m just past caring

But I hope you’ll tell me thanks for sharing.

Get on with it!

That’s the yell.

For until we resolve this

We are in Hell.

Paul Butters

© 30\1\2019 (Written in the early hours!).