The Eccentricities of S.A.B by Steven Anton Butler
The Eccentricities of S.A.B
By Steven Anton Butler
Copyright 2016 Steven Anton Butler
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Table of contents:
The Eccentricities of S.A.B. Vol. 1
Sleepwalker
I don’t really know exactly when this started;
the day I first developed this odd predilection of waltzing through life, with a blindfold draped around my eyes.
I allow only my dreams to lead me through the darkness.
Slowly, as cautious as I possibly can be, I tread through this wilderness of life with my arms fully extended outward—my palms stretched out to their limits—in order to feel my way through this treacherous path.
Every wall that has erected within my way, has been fully surveyed by my fingertips: my hands probe every crevice that I can possibly find, I feel my way through;
no precipice shall be too steep enough for me to climb over it.
I won’t stop until I’ve felt my way towards the other side.
My heart is what keeps me elevated;
I see more clearly with my mind’s eye, then I’ve ever possibly could through my physical lens.
By using the strength of my will alone, I shall be able to endure the trials that lay ahead of me.
Through this darkness I take my waltz, completely blindfolded.
My dreams shall always be the beacon of light that guides me along my path.
War
The battle has already been lost;
my allies and I lay defenseless, completely incapable of preventing the forthcoming onslaught that will be brought towards us, through our hormones.
In the meadow of dreams, we simply drift back and forth in the wind;
we await for a current strong enough to carry us away;
we wait in agony, completely helpless as we reach out as far as we possibly can away from the Lion’s Tooth that wishes to ensnare us.
Soft yet brittle seeds we are—like the seedpods of the Taraxacum—our instincts drive us to the desire of floating out towards the meadow of dreams;
constantly drifting on air, hoping to find a place for us to cultivate new life.
Summer Days
My days of innocence have well passed on;
my youth, is a daydream I often exaggerate as a nightmare;
when simple transgressions bloomed into more enthralling plights,
and the fond memories of my childhood refused to stay imprisoned within actuality, thus seeking refuge within the back of my mind: I knew then that life was beginning to gain the upper hand against me.
My innate ability of being a sleuth against time has been dulled;
no longer may I trace time with a preemptive gaze;
no longer shall I know of the everlasting days of school, or the swift days of summer;
no longer shall I carry the blissful impatience that then signified my youth.
The difference between Love and Infatuation
Promises, promises, to the one who is brave enough to give his heart away on a whim.
The charm of the hopeless romantic,
shall always be the Achilles heel to the wise man’s intellect.
Praise be,
to the lover who shoots his arrow without a mark;
to the heartened fool who sees this act as a sign of faith;
to the dreamer who believes his faith guides the arrow’s aim to be true;
to the poor, innocent bystander who’s fatally stricken by it, when blindly crossing its path.
Promises, promises, to the one who is brave enough to give his heart away on a whim.
The Girl
His gaze slowly drifted from me to the floor,
his arms folded in defense,
gripping his elbows ,
while wearing a bashful look upon his face.
With each step I made towards him,
I felt him slowly starting to unravel,
he was going to cave in at any moment.
His false obligation of being a man was wearing him thin,
his arms fell limp to his sides as I approached him, coolly.
I assured him he was free to be who he wished,
free to let his guard down.
Whilst listening to my grand testament of love,
he revealed to me his relief,
by slowly coming undone.
Maybe
The young man didn’t have the strength in him to argue with their antiquated vision of the human condition.
He also couldn’t even attempt to negate their statement, that the love that they possessed is to be the paragon of what love truly is. He simply stared at the crossed minister, who’s exclaiming to him what the cross around his neck denotes. His fingers slipped between his lover’s, and with a hearty smile he bears the conviction that has been cast upon them. At the end of his stoning of heavy words that completely lacked any trace of discernment, the young man summoned the wisdom within him to retort with, “ Maybe your version of Heaven isn’t the same as ours.”
Chastity Belt
A man who lets his heart take the lead,
is seen as a Lecher,
only to the untrained eye.
I try to swim past the vast sewage of claimed purity,
before I drown in its toxic waters.
I use my lovers to stay afloat.
Caged in by a white picket fence,
it’s difficult to see past it towards the horizon.
We have to obey the law of reproduction in order to survive.
We disobey, and try to reinvent, despite being ridiculed as abominations; we just keep trying to fit in.
It’s not easy holding on to something pure in a wasteland like this,
but we still try. That’s all we can do isn’t it? Try.
Erode
The lingering high,
from a night of long exposure to the rebellious dealings of the city;
the young misfits band together,
over the bridge while hiding in the seclusion of a heavy cloud of cannabis smoke;
spewing out their confessions of how the forces that have attempted to govern their fates,
could never understand them.
They pressed their young, impressionable hearts against the gate,
and stared down at the busy traffic below;
kings and queens of the city, they wished with all of their frail hearts to forever rule the world that bowed to them from below.
If they could make time halt just for only a moment;
if they could control the world they kingly hovered over from above;
if only their youth could stay within their reach;
they could rule the world.
Him
Whore was the label I wore so boldly,
as if it were to be the finest accessory I’ve ever owned, I made sure it glistened in the light of day,
to catch a potential suitor’s eye of course.
Though I could never give Him to destiny.
I offered myself onto him,
to be stripped down to the bone—like a master would tease a starving dog with a piece of meat—he gave me the false sense of control that I needed.
I would often ponder to myself in these moments, “Is
that was all I needed to carry me to where I needed to be.
The closest thing to love I could ever feel,
was the control I had over Him.
Drown
I can still feel the sun’s kiss upon my cheek,
as I let the cool waters push me down towards the river’s bank.
I can still hear my comrades in the foreground laughing—splashing water to and fro, as I had my head tilted back in the cool stream that carried me along the way;
I remember it like it was yesterday,
when I lost my footing, and went under.
Seaweeds danced all around me as time grew still;
sunlight pressed against the surface of the vast, and murky body water as I slowly sunk towards its bottomless pit; I could feel all the hope inside of me fading along with the oxygen in my lungs; I mustered the last spark of energy within me somehow, to break the surface of this dark world to plea for help, before submerging once again back into the dark, bottomless pit that seemed to be the final resting place for me; my watery grave.
My comrades,
then broke through the dark veil that had fully enshrouded me;
their hands were the anchor that pulled me onto the surface world once again;
we made it unto the shore, as we bathed in the sun, and I sat feeling numb;
my comrades cheers, and cries of relief for my return to this world were the only things in this reality that I could hold on to.
Thank you.
Crushed Lavender
This buzz that he has left lingering in my chest,
I don’t want to lose this high;
all I can think about is seeing him once again,
I can’t let time pass me by.
I’m like crushed lavender within his hands,
I shall give him a sweet scent to sooth his soul;
my essence still lingering in his palms,
for his hands have embraced my soul.
My flower is now in full bloom within his garden,
my secrets are his to keep;
I shall let him pluck my petals one by one,
my heart is his to reap.
Be A Man
As a man,
I should be the one who is doing all of the saving;
not the other way around, right?
As a man,
I’m the one who should be chasing love;
not waiting on it, right?
A Man: a very kingly title;
many males have given their life in the past to obtain this label.
You are not allowed to feel this way,
you are not allowed to think this way,
you are not allowed to live this way,
because that is not what a man does.
Diamond heart
I pray,
I pray that the brittle heart that lay deep inside of the dark cave inside of me,
can form a into Diamond Heart.
As the tectonic plates shift my heart deeper and deeper into the diamond zone,
the fire and brimstone that is nestled deep within me, begins to make the diamond form, as the pain within me and my heart form a covalent bond;
the pressures of life forces the misshapen octahedral to erupt from me, destroying everything within its wake;
leaving only a Diamond Heart.
Dead Limbs
We’re hanging on by a limb;
we have climbed so high, and extended ourselves to the tip of the highest branch;
the stability of the trunk is too far away from us now,
and there is no way we can see that far down to our roots.
All good things come to an end,
and not all young branches can support our weight;
we have climbed so high now,
if we drop it will surely be a fatal fall;
young fools we are,
to dare defy the laws of gravity the way we have;
we have separated ourselves so far from each others reach;
if we try to climb back toward one another,
our limbs may surely break.
Honey
I can still taste him upon my lips;