Familiar enough, they live in the same flat
Sleeping on the other side of paper walls
Phone calls muffled.  Or clear as day
When nighttime drama has been peaked

Passing when scurrying
Off to work, out for a walk
Gone to the beach for a breather.
They politely nod with pleasantries and smiles

              The flat is surrounded
              By invisible but ever-present
              Life forms
              Who arrived recently

The three sages, the visitor, the novice
In the novitiate all strangers
We try hard.  To be civil, kind, pleasant
We would do well to have a warm relationship

Sitting at breakfast on Tuesday morning
Master encounters the viejo leaving
“oh, hi”
Frequently those would be
The only two syllables to pass
Each of their lips

               “We are here to guide, protect and educate”.
               The disembodied women and children
               Steeped in ages of tradition
               Have found their way here.  Or were they summoned?

Rising slowly the Master stops the flow
And cuts into recognized routine
“I have something for you,
I made it last night.”

That evening, Tuesday, another chance encounter
The docent, el viejo and the Master
Chat comfortably, alone, without the others
A quiet and peaceful cabal

               The building was a shop
               Or perhaps, a parts supply warehouse Which
               Upon installation of sacred statues
               Became a sanctuary.  With a loft

Do you practice in a particular way?
Are you comfortable in the expectations
When your inevitable death arrives
Are your wills stout and resolute?

You have heard of Kabbalah, of course
The concepts strange to me
Numerology
I’ll stick to what I know, goodnight.

               Let them go to slumberland
               Attend the special space
               Where they can see
               A Pure Land

My great aunt eats,
Pancakes and apple ****,
And stays in bed all day,
My grandmother thinks that,
She is trying to maintain,
Her figure,
But she is 97 and I think,
I think she is doing what she must,
To survive,
They had to take her bike away from her when she was in her early 90s,
And more recently had to tell her to stop going for walks.
I come from a long line of people,
Who refuse to acknowledge their old age.
My grandfather on my father’s side wrote poems and painted and had a girlfriend,
He went to the theatre,
Nobody stopped him from living,
Like he was in his 20s.
My great aunt has surely but slowly had everything,
Taken from her grasp,
And I think she is just,
So tired,
So she eats pancakes and apple ****,
And stays in bed all day.

The world's abandoned us and left
Us reeling from its own devices,
Separating smaller slices,
Cold servers calculating theft,
Corrupting every sacred craft.
Women punished for their choices.
Hungry children got no voices.
Let's have a war, without the draft.
What worth in words the poet wrote,
Old gods could show us how to live?
Bad questions linger, bodies float.
Who knew the earth could cease to give?
I leave this ragged, tortured note.
And from this pen, I'll forge a shiv.

True Love?

If something is true then it shall last a long time

It shall endure a lot

It shall never change

It adapts

It never can happen too quickly

It is savoured, slowly

Being or not being,
Existence or no existence:
That is the fifty-fifty question,
The flip of the coin.

Everything is down to this –
Pure chance.
A celestial bet.

Yet can non-existence exist
Without existence?
Was it all inevitable?
Mathematical formulae
Beyond the mortal mind?

There may be some answer here,
To this cosmic riddle.
But it’s way above
My intellectual scope.

We can choose
Or grow
Our Gods
And hope for spiritual
Redemption.

But fully knowing
What it’s all about
May never be achieved
No matter how hard
We try.

All we can do is make the most
Of what Lady Luck
Has spawned
To us.
Thank Goodness
That we are here,
Take care of our world
And hope
That Life will last.

Paul Butters

© PB 24\5\2019.

She spoke
To the wall that shouldn't be there
She spoke
To challengers of her dare
Dreams, nerves and notions
Will kindle emotions
But the voice can put change in the air