Autistic Adam 2

Hello, Autistic Adam here again.

When I was a student

They taught me

That Autistic kids live

In a weird world of their own:

A place of mystery

Too strange to describe:

A bubble universe

Cut off from “normal” folk.

I couldn’t picture what Autism was

Until, to my surprise

I learnt that I myself

Am Autistic.

So hard to describe,

But I can’t read those social cues

Or innuendo.

Do you really like or love me?

Or are you being polite

Even two faced?

I cannot tell.
Does a coffee mean coffee?

Tell me to jump

And I probably will.

For I take things literally.

You say, “I’m in trouble!”

And I think you really are!

Be careful what you say.

I’m so full of fear, anxiety and anger

Yet cannot tell what words of mine

Might anger you.

I cannot understand women…

But oh, that’s normal!

Haha.

But seriously,

People are baffling.

I have no girlfriend

Because I cannot tell

Between (them showing) interest and “being polite”.

The Dating Game is way beyond

My comprehension.

I’ve never asked anyone out

As I wouldn’t know where to take them

Or how to behave whilst we’re there.

Relationships are way beyond me.

What on Earth is that about?

I need a Rule Book…

If she kisses me

Should I propose?

Just don’t get it.

Better get a dog

Or cat.

I am a fictional character

As you know.

But I’m sure I’m a typical “case”.

Even my creator

Has his own Autistic traits.

There’s much of him in me.

And no I’m not referring to God here,

But who knows?

Maybe S\He is Autistic too

To some extent.

Paul Butters

© PB 18\10\2019.

Autistic Adam

(Picture Credit - LibGuides com)

I’m Autistic Adam.

Sorry for not looking at you.

I cannot stand seeing stares.

Just cannot look.

Sorry too for playing my electric guitar

As you try to talk to me.

But if I didn’t like you

I would have the speaker switched on.

Please don’t talk too long,

As I must have my tea

At seventeen hundred hours:

That’s set in stone.

And then I must attend

To my collection

Of football cards

And memorabilia.

After that I’ll read my maps

And study facts

In peace.

No!

I will not change my schedule!

The mere thought of that

Fills me with dread

And terror.

Sorry.

I cannot come to the party

You have arranged for me.

Just don’t do parties

Or “social events”

Or people

Period.

I’m very much the lone wolf,

Which reminds me:

Dogs and other animals

I love

With a passion

And obsession.

Give me a walk with a dog

Any time,

Or a cat to stroke.

But never

Ever

Try to make me change

My day

In any way.

Paul Butters

© PB 30\9\2019 (2).

 NB an autistic client of mine did refuse to look at me and did play his guitar throughout our conversation. But then I too have some autistic traits.....

We Have To Talk

We have to talk,

Talk right now

While the time is ripe.

It will be difficult

For both of us,

But we have to grab

The bull by the proverbial horns.

We’ve let things drift,

You and I.

We’re in a rut,

I hear you sigh.

We keep our secrets,

Both of us;

From one another,

There’s the rub.

A relationship stuck

In the mud.

Your loyalty questionable

I have to say.

Sorry if I’m wrong

But I must declare

I’m pretty sure

Your eyes are elsewhere.

I don’t know where to go with this.

If only we could “kiss

And make up” as they say.

But it’s not as easy as that.

We must come clean

With one another,

For what’s a relationship

Without trust

And honesty.

So

My friend

Just what is going on

Between us?

Or have we reached

The End?

Paul Butters

NB this poem is pure fiction, from my imagination.

© PB 30\9\2019.

September

(Image - Autumn Leaves Japan)

At five in a morning they scavenge about,

Punters at a car boot sale

Searching for bargains with torches.

Why the lights?

Because it’s still dark.

Why dark?

Because it’s SEPTEMBER.

September: the month when the kids go back

To school.

When bowls goes indoors,

Snooker starts;

Cricket draws to a close,

As bad light stops play.

Premiership football into its second month
And Rugby Superleague into the Playoffs.

Telly programmes that have run all summer

Grind to a halt

And Winter TV takes over.

“Question Time” is back

Along with parliament,

Though Boris soon closed it

This year!

The nights get longer,

Minute by minute

And soon those leaves will turn

That lovely golden hue:

Ironically the mark of Death.

Thoughts will soon be turned to Christmas

As we steel ourselves

For another Winter.

Halloween and Bonfire Night

Are coming soon.

This year we have “The Brexit Deadline”,

A new distraction

Drawing our eyes away

From the eternal passage

Of time.

Paul Butters

© PB 23\9\2019.