The Creaking of the Conscience:

The Poetry of Christopher Butler

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The Poetry of Christopher Butler
Why I Creak
The Spirit Within
Living On The Border
Nature Laughs Back
The Feminist Unleashed
The Heart Has Many Rooms
Falling From Grace
Contact Me
Credits and Thanks

 
Please click images to access chapters and poems

 
 
Our ingestion of knowledge appears more complex then ever. Hubble telescopes, electron microscopes, a sea of satellites can beam and connect, observe and select the ways we witness our journey. 
 
The conscience trusts its translation of daily sights and sounds. But it must also trust in the unseen intangibles. Science has yet to measure the intricate dimensions of love or friendship. For now, these powerful sensations can only be felt. One cannot weigh another person's state of happiness, nor touch their inner peace. We just sense something.   And we are either drawn to it, or we are disinterested.  
 
And so, to my poetry:  Like it or not, it will stimulate some cog or other, you sense creaking within.

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The Spirit Within

Organized religion is failing to accomodate modern spiritual needs. Though we are moving away from superstitions, have our spiritual needs been elevated?  God is in the world, but so many still die arguing over who's God he is.
 

Living On The Border

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Canada's version of    John F. Kennedy was Pierre Trudeau, a rennaisance man with flamboyance and vision. He saw that our nation wanted to have its own identity, yet also enjoy the same advantages as our neighbours to the south. I believe he foresaw that our time to enjoy this naive fantasy would be limited.  
 
 

Nature Laughs Back

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Nature continues to smile our way, despite our efforts to ruin this relationship. The humour in nature has remained consistent.  A cycle of comedies and tragedies played out on a stage, swept clean by the seasons.
 
 

The Feminist Unleashed

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The double D double standard undergoes a ruthless interrogation. No holds barred. The cauldron of love and aggression, the sex and depression that drive the male ego, receives a few spurts of truth serum.

 

The Heart Has Many Rooms

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Love is like oil. One can never have too much. It lubricates the conscience and insulates the soul. Love is not simply a suggested state of happiness; it is an emotional oil that needs to stay fresh and filtered. Without it, one's hearty horsepower becomes a selfish waste.

Falling From Grace

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Pick a war, any war. Or pick a year, any year. Civilians die. And as employees of munition factories send their children off to school, I wonder what they hope their children will learn? That the one with the most bombs wins?