Monday 29 January 2024

My Id

 

(Picture Credit: ...Dictator com)

Deep within the labyrinthine recesses of my mind

Lies my Id.

Or Subconscious, 

Or whatever you will.

So when I sleep and dream

My Id presents me with scenes

Full of seemingly incredible detail:

Countless objects set before me

In a wonderfully vivid landscape.

 

How on Earth does my Id store and display

All these amazing things?

Or is it conning me somehow?

 

For my Id loves to taunt and tease me.

With dreams of finding myself undressed

In public.

Stressful nightmares of being given impossible mental

And practical challenges to complete.

Of being lost and unable to find my way

Home.

Endless journeys by train and bus

Travelling the country in my quest

To get back in the bosom

Of my loving family.

Bee swarms and nasty infestations of bugs.


The Forbidden Planet had its “Monsters of the Id”

And on rare occasions I have woken to continued dreams

Of snakes and people who shouldn’t be there.

And that Giant Eye!

God forbid my sleeping dreams should invade reality,

Somewhere in the Twilight Zone.

 

But on the plus side, my dreams can be filled

With seemingly original music

And pleasantries I’d better leave

To your imagination.

Wink, wink.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 29\1\2024.

Wednesday 29 November 2023

Waxing Lyrical

 

Time to wax lyrical,

Time to shout from the rooftops,

My words rolling like thunder

Across the whole wide world.

 

No mardy moods

Or negative vibes.

Time to replace killing with care

Hatred with love

Tree chopping and ploughing

With planting and wild growth.

 

Let emotion sing as music

Love and care

Musical words

Called poems.

 

What are we doing?

What are we doing with our planet

And it’s folk?

Aliens from other worlds might ask

And wonder whether to intervene.

 

Re-education is required

Getting us back to the ways

Of Mother Earth.

Teaching us to let go

Of our egos

Our lust for mere goods

And territorial land-grabbing.

It’s not what you have

But what you make of it

 

We only live once

And not for very long

So I say again

Love life

All life

From the tiniest ant

To the loftiest tree.

Enjoy a giraffe

And savour the aroma

Of a bower surrounded by flowers.

 

Let’s grow more forests

Teeming with life

Clothed in mysterious mists.

 

Unite together

To end poverty

And strife

Cease all wars

Treat everyone with respect

As equals

All free

All loved equally.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 29\11\2023.

Monday 18 September 2023

Multiverse

 

 (Picture Credit - Tufts Now com)

 

Some say we all live in a “Multiverse” –

A myriad of universes

All parallel to one another

Invisible to us

Apart from our own universe

Wondrous as it is.

 

So in some other universe there is

Another version of yourself,

Where you turned right at some junction

Instead of left

And had a serious accident

Instead of winning the lottery.

Or nothing much happened

Or Everything.

 

Even my own fertile imagination

Is floored

By the endless possibilities here.

My mind is truly boggled

Fit to explode.

 

For every tiny insect in our universe

Might fly right

Or left

Or not at all

To thus create another universe.

 

I could write an epic poem on this.

To think that somewhere out there

I may be Immortal, or a King, or Rock Star

Or even about to be Executed

If not already dead.

And you might be these things too.

 

Versions of ourselves might live in universes

That echo those of fiction

In worlds such as Narnia, Middle Earth

And that of Star Trek, Star Wars

And Stargate SG One

To name but a few.

 

Oh to have a TV Remote

Like the fictional “Sliders”

To take us from this realm

To any other of our choice.

Or a “Uniscape”:

A machine like a Tardis

Which can take us to any place

Or time

Or universe

Or Other Multiverse???

 

My head is aching now.

My mind explodes

Like The Universe

And The Multiverse

Or Multiverse of Multiverses.

So I’d better stop

Before this becomes an epic

And my head explodes.

 

But, meanwhile, in another universe

I didn’t stop!!!

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 18\9\2023.