The Butterfly on the end of his nose. Fallen Angel 18

Laying ponderously, arms spread wide
in a field crushing flowers
like dreams quashed
by mocking laughs
from indignant foes
of perceived ambition.

A butterfly landed with more grace
than he has ever cared to muster
or has ever witnessed
in all his years
of existing as a cog
(albeit a big one)
in the master plan
that is fate.

On his nose it sat and looked him in the eye.

He sneezed, causing natures insects to pause
take stock
and carry on regardless.

Was he losing his power?

Was man so self absorbed
and tunnelled so far up their own arses
that his meddling, his evil no longer shocked?

The butterfly turned, flapped so quietly and rested
looking him in the eye, without an iota of fear.
He noticed the spots, which pointed to individual personality,
he noticed the light dusting of the wings
the juicy fluffy core, that contained everything that was good.....

For a second he almost warmed to nature
he almost saw that there was another way
another path
goodness

Instead he stuck out a tongue
and pulled the butterfly into his gob
chewing
grimacing
because it tasted like shit.

***

I have decided to repost these as individual poems, they are taken from my poetry book I published on Amazon.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Fallen-Angel-Mr-Darren-Connor/dp/1492989223

Some of the older members have already read these and I thank them
Just a quick fix to get my number of poems up. I was probably a bit quick publishing, some of these need more work.