The Butterfly- Man
Since hatching out of a cocoon,
This butterfly has had many tastes of pollen.
So many whims and fads on which to feed,
Just like the hungry caterpillar.
Whilst being an infant – he would froth at the mouth,
With every new idea and urge,
Driving friends mad and give them a reason to bully.
First it was cowboys, plastic soldier armies, world war 2,
Action men and Star Wars.
Then onto collecting birds eggs
Which didn’t get far before realising how fragile a hobby to do.
Watching birds instead, this butterfly then took up rod and line,
Still hooked years later.
At secondary stage in life – at school, came a fad for science,
Fulled by stolen lab equipment from an influential uncle.
Frankenstein’s lab replaced the death star and overflowing toy box.
Then came D&D, fighting fantasy escapism,
Instead of chasing the opposite sex
As some did age 13.
Friends piled on high onto the branch and laurel, where the butterfly rested,
To swing swords and throw dice of luck for hit points.
Of course music and books was always a big thing for the butterfly to flutter to:
Metal vinyl dreams and Stephen King paperbacks.
Lovecraft gave a particular nectar,
And he jested that he would too become a great horror writer,
While MÖtley Crüe blasted out eardrums,
And seeded colour to be a rock star!
Then came the girls and sex. Say no more.
More records, guitars, porn mags, comics and booze to end the 80’s.
Drugs, psychedelia and magick to boosted his wings in the 90’s,
As Tarot cards and mysticism tempted this insect with its aromas and charms.
Wargaming miniature Zulus or Napoleon’s grande guard elite,
Mixed a pallete onto his fingers,
With the glue of model making.
Paint fumes stained the dining table and then wars.
Next the butterfly drifted on the wind,
Into academia: writing, literature, film and theatre.
Add more intoxicants and more mystical prowess,
Fluttering, stuttering and going flower to flower,
As he has done so before like lover to lover, liar to liar, friend to friend.
He poses dazzled by the magnitude of nature’s delights.
With a flick of the paper thin wings, a bachelor’s in hand
He’s off again to the next craze,
After 40 years of hobbies and loves and likes,
World musical instruments begin to fill the garden shed,
Where the butterfly gathers his strength to fly,
Back to wargames and dungeons now that he’s dad.
His son, a caterpillar, thinks that he’s well bad!
Shamanic interests, spiritual plants and therapy,
Have become his new thing,
Flickers back to the writing and then thinks:
I might do that, I could get into that, get rid of that, go there, go wherever the scent draws me on.
Wings all shimmer,
Mind in constant clatter and glimmer
For excitement and colour,
And as he flaps his wings,
Do Earthquakes take place?
He’s off now – in great haste.