Gobbledygook

 

 

(Picture Credit - Alamy)

Wot’s this damned Poetry stuff?

It’s all Gobbledygook to me!

As far as I’m concerned you can just stick

Your iamb up your fat pentameter.

Wink.

And I don’t care whether some of it

Is like common speech.

Or clever for being slightly incorrect.

Wink.

 

So why do lilies have to mean death

When they are nothing but fracking flowers?

What’s with all these virile horses

And apples that are supposed to be bosoms?

They are bladdy animals and fruit

For heaven’s sake!

Nothing more, nothing less.

 

All this Moon in June stuff.

All these bladdy feelings about your dog dying

And unrequited love.

All sentimental words

And Repetition.

I’d rather read a tome like a car manual:

At least it tells you something

You can use in real life.

 

Yes, it’s all Vogon Poetry to me.

All pretanticulary epticism from egogargantoid

Arsenburgers who see themtegglers as the interferonical

Ellicopters of the bladdy cosmeticus.

And then there’s TS bladdy Elliot

With his cruel Aprils and his

Hoc ideo non potes legere quia lingua peregrina est.

Vita illius.

 

And while I’m at it.

Who needs history when we live in the present?

Art is no use whatsoever.

Give me a hammer and a spanner

Any day.

Leave those luvvies to their childlike play

And ballet dancers to their pillockettes.

Opera? Pah. Humpa dumpa.

Leave them Odious Odes to Cleverclogs Keats.

Poetry? No bladdy thanks.

(Written for some Friends.

Winks.

At too great a length

For most).

 

 Paul Butters

© PB 13\7\2023.

Singularity

 (Picture Credit - SCiTech Daily com)

 

Big Bang, Universe, Sun and Earth

Life and Death follows Birth.

All over in an instant

Before we become non-existent.

 

Nothing doesn’t have a colour

Have to ask why we bother.

Maybe I shouldn’t be so cryptic

Making things so Apocalyptic.

 

The Earth will fry

When the sun fills the sky.

Into a red giant swollen

All history stolen.

 

So better not think about this,

Just fill our lives with bliss.

Enjoy every day,

That’s the only way.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 1\7\2023.

Sultry Sun

 (Picture Credit - iStock - Preto Perola)

 

The sultry summer sun sucks all moisture out of the soil

To leave cracked earth: mini earthquakes

Soil crumbling into choking dust.

Brown lawns say it all.

Suffocatingly hot indoors

And baking outside.

Desert threat.

 

It’s the height of Summer

And even the wind is suddenly warm

On this humid, balmy day.

Bumble bees buzz about

On my Cotoneasters, Valerians, Geraniums

And Wild Lavatera.

Broken backed Lavatera

From a deluge

The other night.

 

Rather this close heat

Than the icy blasts of Winter

Better to slumber

In comfort,

Grab a cold beer

And enjoy the Sun.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 24\6\2023.