Sirius the Dog God: Exposing Evil & Finding Heaven in Altair. PART ONE

The Child Eater of Bern, Switzerland 1546

This is going to be epic!

1. INTRODUCTION

I think the most painful thing in the world is to witness humanity and especially ourselves and our loved ones, stuck, in the false illusion of the world that is sold to us through royalty, religion, secret societies, corporations and government institutions. I have watched powerful loved ones being circled like prey by liars, false prophets, corrupt families and debauched institutions, who will all say and do anything to keep that person close where they can be controlled, even under the guise of doing God’s holy work, so that they do not break free and thrive independently of them. This person is their Midas, their Saviour, their modern day cash cow and their biggest threat. He cannot be allowed to break free of his shackles — least they all end up dead in his wake when he finally does wake up. I hope he wipes them all out once and for all. The world will be a much better place for it. I’m on his side and this is why.

What most people don’t realize is that our elite, royal families and those with powerful blood lineages in positions of power, have kept some significant ancient knowledge of humanities divine birthright and the actual story of our creation, hidden from us and especially the why we were created in the first place, which provides the context for this article. There are devious and calculated reasons for obscuring the truth from the masses. Not everyone is considered worthy of having this knowledge and power and the wealth it generates. Once exposed, not everyone will want it either. Some of us prefer to have nothing to do with the heinous system of things in the world and for damn good reason. They know that if we knew what they did, we wouldn’t want a bar of it either and that threatens their agenda for ultimate power and control. When we no longer need them, we are truly free and they no longer have slaves to do their dirty work lining their pockets. We can create our own destiny. Trying to achieve this and escape the matrix, is like playing the game of metaphorical snakes and ladders.

Everything in our world from the day we are born, has been designed to indoctrinate you into a system that only serves the royal elite blood families in every continent of the world. I am leaving nothing and no one out. This includes our governments and religious institutions — arguably the most powerful platforms in the world, designed to control the masses and perpetuate the illusions of freedom and salvation but also our giant corporations and media mogul’s. It is true that our beloved world is owned by certain families and exploited for all it is worth. We are mined of our energy and sucked dry by vampires in clan colours, all in the name of God.

What if I told you that the hidden ancient knowledge we need to see and understand in order to evolve as humans, is actually right there in front of us and on display in full sight all over the world? It is. To the sleepers of the world, this knowledge will appear ludicrous, a conspiracy, crazy and the powers that be will fuel this narrative but for those of us who seek enlightenment, the evidence is there if you choose to search for it. It requires nerves of steel and a belief that we can forge our own pathways to freedom, spiritual enlightenment and ultimately our own salvation, without complying to mainstream coercion, delusion and mass hysteria.

The world we live in, will have you believe that we are free to choose, that we all have free-will but I beg to differ. We are only free to choose based on options that are permitted by the laws of the land and sea and by religious dogma’s as outlined within confusing and misleading religious texts such as in the Bible, Quran, Torah, Dhama and the Veda. What’s worse, is that they will all have us perpetuate their negative agenda’s for them, and unwittingly be the makers of our own demise. The truth is, we can be a lot freer and become more enlightened but it means stepping off the grid and away from the matrix and finding our way back to nature and community. By doing so, we can raise humanities collective consciousness by following the principles of unconditional love, empathy, compassion and faith.

What we are witnessing today, is story in the making. An en masse spiritual awakening is occurring across the Earth where people are now questioning the establishment and all of it’s ruses, looking for explanations and answers, looking deeper within themselves and searching for a more meaningful purpose to our otherwise stressed, oppressed, subjugated, exhausted, traumatised, ill, fragmented and painful lives, outside of mainstream’s agenda. The establishment knew this would happen eventually and why we are seeing the Great Reset of the new millennium in the Age of Aquarius start with a mass depopulation cull. A manmade, genocidal germ warfare distraction designed to be the catalyst to bring in and entrench a New World Order.

Our religious and government institutions are involved in a heinous cover-up and have been using various platforms to maintain an established, elaborate form of control that is designed to serve only their agenda. One of World Domination. They have hidden pertinent information about who they are, deliberately and they laugh at us by parading symbolic, often heinous truths in public, right under our noses. These people have no love in their hearts for humanity. They are the evil in the world that they want us to denounce and also the ones that we mistakenly worship today. Once you understand this deception, you can not go back to fumbling your way through life, blind. It is impossible. What it does do however, is force you to choose a side and your soul and the after-life depends upon it.

They are about to take away even more of our freedoms and rights, by dropping the petro-dollar in favour of digital currency, making new laws to aid and abet the roll out the digital age under the guise of bringing humanity into a more modern era. Yes, an era of complete control is about to be rolled out by the most powerful people and organisations in the world. Once this happens, we will be trapped forever within the matrix and forever at their mercy (and literally the flick of a digital switch) if we fail to conform — and we will cease to exist anywhere within their system when we do. Good luck surviving that, unless you are aware and prepared for what is about to come and get off the grid as quickly as possible. This should be your number one priority. We need to be prepared for what is most certainly coming our way. We are at war but this Third World War is actually a spiritual one disguised within the digital era.

Their power is frightening. Make no mistake, and they are legion who will chew you up and spit you out without a care in the world and convince you that you are to blame for your own ignorance and downfall. They will try to convince you that you are worthless, undeserving, wretched and everything undesirable but they are wrong. They are pure evil and they want you to stay ignorant of this information. For most of the world population, this is an inconceivable claim I am making and it will create a huge cognitive dissonance to the majority of you who go about your daily lives none the wiser. Ignorance is most definitely bliss but I am not alone in working some of these things out for myself.

They do not want us to know about the role we play in their game of life, their game of snakes and ladders, their quest for immortality, their lust for children, their hunger for the flesh. This would mean the end of their power but it could also mean the start of a spiritual revolution, if you could only open your eyes. Make no mistake about it, we are at war. The time of Revelation and the End of Days are indeed upon us. We are the chosen ones who have been incarnated on this world, in this lifetime, in these vessels in order to shine a light on the wickedness of this world and raise our collective spiritual consciousness. In the following chapters, I will be discussing some of our ancient texts, creation theories, myths, the Anunnaki, Sirius the Dog/God star, the Ophiuchus, the snake and also sex trafficking, paedophilia, cannibalism, spirit cooking, adrenochrome harvesting, blood magic and murder. The evidence of it is everywhere in our societies, once you know what you’re looking at. Once you see, it will be impossible for you to unsee but you will have enough new information to be able to make new informed decisions and take the power back.

© Copyright 2023, Jodine Derena Butler. ‘Poetry Out West’, All Rights Reserved

The Secret Covenant

Mr Midas & the Leviathan

Mr Midas and the Leviathan may as well be a mated pair.

One digs for gold, the other steals it and calls it Justice,

Both rape and pillage Midgard as if it was a birth right.

Midas mining minds while Leviathan’s whirlpool lines his stomach —

Ache, and the Ouroboros snake finally bites off its own head in the process.

Humanity is left behind in husks; dunes of cicada shell

Sahara sand, and so begins the thirteenth day of the thirteenth month of the

Thirteenth year of the thirteenth millennium and the Age of Aquarius.

After two chiliads of the Age of Men, spiritual destruction’s time is up.

Dark magicians and light worker’s square up, stand off with David, Sion, Zion

Call it what you will; bellicose savage servants broker deals between the two,

Lining their own pockets, pilfering ideas from enlightenment.

Righteous hamartia saving itself from Ickeman’s ilk, another canard crime.

The war has only just begun but the Holy Grail remains buried in Nadir

Beneath the ancient alcoves of the Vatican, guarded by Moloch and Baal in

Hidden chambers — dead sea scrolls, Enoch and Gobekli Tepe.

And women, judged unworthy of this love by sadistic vampires in clan colours,

And succulent lambs, initiate sacrifices defiled to pierce through the Unholy Veil.

Loving humanity never included those wretches deemed unworthy by demons

Those poor lost souls you pretend to save, slaves

Midas and Leviathan are nothing more than lip servants who gut like fishermen!

What we need are neoteric Warriors of Light to smite, in the name of true divinity.

I’ve waited an age for redemption, revelation and enlightenment. Get it done!

Heavenly Ophichus, Hallowed Be Thy Name

Thy Kingdom Come And Thy Will Be Done On Earth, As It Is In Heaven

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread And Forgive Us Our Trespasses

As We Forgive Those Who Trespass Against Us

Lead Us Not Into Temptation But Deliver Us From Evil

For Thine Is The Kingdom, The Power And The Glory

Forever And Ever

Blessed Be.

© Copyright 2023, Jodine Derena Butler. ‘Poetry Out West’, All Rights Reserved

The Great Lost

The Fool

Nihilism gnaws at Persephone as she surrenders the last of her love to the darkness. She knows Hades will welcome her there; place a crown upon her enlightenment.

She wrestles with catastrophe.

Despair, wraps her arms around her and comfort finds a home in the familial wasteland of the Great Lost. Confusion offering up the last dying shards of illumination into the nothing.

She sinks to an all-time low.

She is broken beyond words, an unimaginable state of being, untenable suffering refusing to let go rendering her moot.

She trusts in the All of everything.

Right time, right place airs grace her presence and she is alone once again. This is her destiny? If only she could be happy here.

As above, so below.

Psyche is not stupid, knowing she must fall in order to rise, she feels compelled to find Persephone dwelling in the dark and look to the beauty hidden there; her ability to love dependant.

‘Fuck me!’ she yells.

They say no pain, no gain; no light without dark but the world burns while she waits for it all to end and it can’t come fast enough! Persephone can’t believe she signed up for this hell hole.

‘You can all suck my phantom dick!’

In the meantime, soul searching becomes a crash course on survival for her demise. She wishes — magical thoughts skip the tutorial and head straight back home where Demeter pours her a cup of sweet leaf tea.

This too shall pass.

The aftermath will give her a reprieve, a reason to put one foot in front of the other and leave those betrayers behind. Solitude giving her security in the end. A simple life if she can find a way to live.

Give thanks and gratitude.

But what about anger? Persephone wants to continue to die on her own terms admitting defeat. Psyche’s heart beat only for Cupid and yet she is not worthy of love. Everything is an illusion, a false construct by design.

It is only through death we find life.

The only life Persephone wants, is with Hades — conditional love built upon mistrust and betrayal. What hope is left when that’s all there is on offer?

© Copyright 2023, Jodine Derena Butler. ‘Poetry Out West’, All Rights Reserved

Acceptance

White Fella Clock

Image

Emuford, Queensland, Australia
The long, winding road on
Patrol, dips diving
Over causeways corrugation;
Raised shuddering asides,
Rusty Savannah on
The back seat
Of bumfuck nowhere
Up, at Emuford.
A place to escape —
Convictions congregate
Over blackberry gin & tonic,
Chivas & beer
No white fella clock here.
Emuford, Queensland, Australia
Blue Rosella's, Scarlet Wren
Yellow Wattle &
Black boys eye the Brim
Full of asher & cast iron
Termite ochre.
Abandoned outposts
Spike the road
Like Milligan & we take
Only what we need;
Elder pleas & healing,
Wild Rivers offering up
Sooty Grunter
No white fella clock here.
Sooty Grunter (Black Brim)
Hidden in the heather
Quartz & granite,
An old bottle of
'Bygone Era'
Just under the surface
A century or so ago.

Ironbark & bracken
Stoke the charred embers where
Lightening strike
Cackles & laughter swaggers;
Dreaming voices
Carry on the wind
No white fella clock here.
Emuford, Queensland, Australia
Temperate waters, the ego
Juggles a few balls &
Just right airs & graces
Make her presence known.
Layers, removed one by one
Begin to lift.
Red dog sleeps in the fire.
Rat dog learns to swim.
Pork sausage bread butties on
Stomach lined spastic gullets
Take the piss &
March flies land bite
No white fella clock here.
Cobb & Co Outpost, Emuford

© Copyright 2023, Jodine Derena Butler. ‘Poetry Out West’, All Rights Reserved

Let it Rain

She sat looking out, watching the wind berate the trees, watching the stretched leaves wrestle; it looked a lot like holding on for dear life, before the next calm came, if it came.

She allowed her mind to wander, to question, likening it to the meaning of life, and death, savouring the Earth’s language as if it was her last breath and it would eventually be.

Perhaps then she would come to understand her place in the world, come to an understanding a little too late, that she had actually belonged here all along — but she doubted it. Her life was as fragile as those leaves.

For her, she found only small relief in the concept of belonging to something bigger than her self. Her existential crisis was more like a distraction and the more she questioned her existence, the more she felt separate from it.

She reduced herself to a single leaf, flapping uncontrollably in the wind before it finally detached, or was it ripped away? Either way, she was lost.

A spot of blight upon the earth, that’s all it was, a contagion that needed to be isolated. Nothing clung to her, in her minds eye, or was it that she didn’t cling to it? Whatever it may be. A mere leaf, or speck in the grand scheme of things unbeknownst to her.

No matter how hard she tried to feel at home, here, looking out into the magnitude of life in her own backyard, she could feel herself dying by the minute. She wanted it all to end.

It was a desolate time.

There were so many other thoughts she could have, but like the wind and the autumn leaves, they were at the mercy of that something bigger, that threatened to tear her apart. Hope for a life worth living, felt moot.

She sat looking out — and finally it started to rain.

© Copyright 2022, Jodine Derena Butler. ‘Poetry Out West’, All Rights Reserved

The Joker

Image

The Joker
plays his cards then prays
for forgiveness
to a middle eastern Christian God
before hurling abuse
to those who aren’t white
professing to love women
secretly harbouring unfathomable hate
suppressed rage
staring Red indifference in the face
of reason, his reason
an excuse for payback; vindictive
retribution designed to maximize
powerfully charged emotional punches.

I have loved more than once
choosing my heart over head
batting eyelids deflecting
eggs scrambling to make sense
of the impossible scenario
time after time questioning
my self refusing to settle for anything
less than truth
watching loved ones turn
roll over, pulling the wool
over already unseeing orbs
holding on to contempt for love
lost

Death has defined me
grief ripping me apart
till I am stripped bare and
‘The Joker’ plays me for a fool
his denial hardly concealed now
his truth defining him in the end
hidden underneath a facade
charm dangerously like a predators
false sense of security
when his hands are tied
his dirty hands
he tries to launder abrasive
repeatedly.

Money
the root of all evil
threatens to ignite the paper trails
that have us entwined
enmeshed together by banks
loans and fine print
our future only leased
the balance drains the half full cup
sentiment caught never to be released
that Holy Grail
proving to be forever out of reach
what chance did we have?
the die has been cast.

My love
my darling
you were my everything
my beautiful sweet illusion
my heart aches for remembering you
how you were before you changed colour
I fell head over feet for you and yours
grazing my knee in the process
I succumbed, numbing my defenses
getting back up being pushed back down
losing another fragment of hope
each time threatening don’t
now, the joke is on you.

© Copyright 2016, Jodine Derena Butler. ‘Poetry Out West’, All Rights Reserved

Illusion

Indigo Girl

Left alone, thoughts ring and bells toll

Clanging inside my brain; memories running down

Corridors, splitting off at the junction. Persephone – dead,

That wilted little wretch with amazing airs and graces,

Grating on the pickle of pain. Demeter with her blind eye,

Hades and his Jekyll juice Pomegranate wine

Infiltrating an indigo child holding her breath

Mauve dug in, embedding her chariot rose

Heart to a stranger. Charon, larger than life

Roaming the dark halls, death casting shadows

Wherever he went, survival weaving invisible

Threads; a silver road to nowhere, her woven makeshift

Sanctuary cocoon. It was Persephone alone in the darkness,

Warm amongst catacombs and the river Styx

Charons lantern waving in the distance side to side

taking an age to dawn here in the crawlspace of time, refuge

Settled in like mothballs and cobwebs
swung between the skull and

Crossbones; A subterranean
Mosaic of Dante’s Inferno

Where prayer echoed off the walls
falling, on deaf ears and forgiveness

Became a hopeless lost cause.
© Copyright 2018, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

11 Typical Unintentional Behaviors of Emotionally Hurt People

She Sells Sanctuary

image

Photographer/stylist: Ra Kai

It’s quiet outside

her ears adjust, vicariously
searching out cracks/
a radar mind

finding edges where paths
begin & end
& life circles

inside her four walls
escape & sigh breath
carbon dated memory

each time reflected upon
once/ a crudely stirred
softly shaken sonic echo

a lawnmower cuts
more than
the grass/

in between two or more spaces
she chooses
to wipe away the years

sealed red letters/
sifted thoughts more like
ocean liners

her past full
of Pomegranate blossom
seed

she sells her sanctuary
in blocks/
cubed quarters

organised delivery
ensures a safe return
of a very sure thing?

but not now
there is nothing left to steal.
she sells her sanctuary

from her living room
& chooses life
letting go

/

his miniature shoulders
resemble an old man
Led Zeppelin

his sticks are bundled/
all he can see
is the highway

© Copyright 2010 Jodine Derena Butler. All Rights Reserved

Craving

Image

I’m craving you, today.

All those beautiful things about you
that glittered like gold; your face,
a ray of fucking sunshine
portending our future
happiness, growing old together.

I crave to see your smile, fall
about the place laughing.

I look back through photographs,
those ones on the balcony
encapsulating you against a green backdrop
when we were ecstatic, tripping
over our good fortune pleasured to meet,
makes me weep now.

I loved you so much it’s unbearable
witnessing our demise.

I chastise my foolishness,
choosing to believe in love – you,
I would do anything to turn back time,
start over knowing what we know now,
hold on to that part of us
that was true, before

reality ripped me a new one
and I belly flopped into despair.

My eyes search for you everywhere,
in my rearview
to steal a glance, catch a glimpse
to see if you remember me, re-ignite
one final psychic spark
awakening those butterflies.

I don’t want the dawn to sing to me.
I long to dream rainbows and fairy floss

instead of axe handles / switch blades
cutting off my head,
dismembering my brain stem
from my heartbeat for you.
Some days I look for ways I can feel,
my fingers frantic

without prying ears interfering
and I ride you into rhythm; doublets

triplets and fours
before I stare transfixed
into the silent night – did you feel anything?
I don’t like this, nastiness unbecoming
it’s not how I want to remember you
but it’s all you’ve ever known.

It’s not too late to salvage respect
putting it all down to folly, our hurt

doesn’t need to scar, on par
with adolescent angst.
I love all those who have gone before
each finding that special place
lodged in the spaces between
the good, the bad and the ugly.

Forgive me, for I will in time; make
it all worthwhile.

I want you to be happy,
successful and content.
Please don’t fall back into line,
choosing thugs for pittance —
you’re worth more than pseudo security
it’s all bullshit, that old way.

You are made for enlightenment
not eternal darkness.

I still love you the way I remember you,
I just don’t believe in the Devil.

© Copyright 2016, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

Blossom

Malady Peg

Image

image

Artist: Unknown

You build a picture of me
outside the elongated square
peg shaped box
I find myself circling.

Each single step
widens following
two side steps lengthening
nearly five decades deep —

before I’m back in the shit
standing in front of the same scale
stained window or solid oak door
or Samsung S4.

My self imposed barricade
chain and key close
to my heart keep-safe
trusting no one

except a chain gang
of miscreants and misfits
mulling over life, just right.
Subliminal messages

only those in the know can
decipher; wisdom in code, words
biting off more than we can chew
at times, like these.

You help build a picture of me
outside the elongated square
peg shaped box
I find myself picking apart

with my fingernails, prying
into cracks like an
unsuspecting little upstart
who has everything and nothing.

We are social creatures
by nature, nurture featuring ways
to stray outside our four walls
where I space out

dependent distance, my avoidance
keeps my heart still beating.
Any attempt to heal is an affront
my demons wreck havoc,

threaten to cut me off at the knee’s
if I don’t conform or dance
to the pipers tune. My malady
freaks the hell out of everyone.

Torture held captive.

You are a picture of my self
outside my elongated square
peg shape box, my reason
to die respectfully

circumnavigating
ways through and around,
bashing my head up
against invisible walls

that thwart my existence
here, questions unanswered
philosophical paradoxical paradigm s;
the meaning of life and death.

I want to go home,
listen to the ebb and flow
of waves, seagulls and the sound
of sand crunching between my toes

and decide to live.

© Copyright 2016, Jodine Derena Butler & ‘Poetry Out West’. All Rights Reserved

Farce

Sea of Possibility

Aurora Australis

Wrap me in a padded cell
so I may kick
& flail
eke out my existence
purge my maelstrom,
those configured fires
left to smoulder
in relative calm

bound by containment.
I strain every sinew
to breaking point
every muscle to burn
my cognisance; fragmented
Freudian slips
of recognition
rubbed raw.

I will break free.
Stretch the threads
of my fabric,
my very being
so that I may ignite
the Phoenix
to take on life
& soar.

My thoughts are like charred embers;
reminiscent remains
of a Godless era,
mountains of mole hills
set in the West
cast shadows
my gauntlet
rearing its ugly head.

What will become of her?
My desolation, left
to wander this Papa
where great lakes
threaten to burst
their asides
remind us
we are at Her mercy

but to fail is not an option.
Deliverance stands
turning on my heel
to where the sunrise
promises more
than just to warm
my bones
hope, skipping pebbles —

perhaps to sail?
Riding the salt & pepper coast,
my salvation avoiding
complex low pressure systems
preferring to watch the Seagulls
negotiate on my behalf
squalls rolling
in my wake.

Mollymawks
crash land burly trails
full of anticipation
my Mull
living on a prayer
an easy meal
but not without compromise
black, white & grey.

Pre-determined destinations
finding solace
at the end of the Earth,
Aurora Australis
leading me
not into temptation
for Albatross are always on the lookout
searching the sea.

*

Sandal-less feet
pale skin tinged olive,
doves on a distant spire
cooing a lull; my cradle,
rocks
a fishing line
tied to my big toe
where everything is as it should be.

© Copyright 2012, Jodine Derena Butler. All Rights Reserved

Too Big for my Shoebox

image

Photographer: Nicolas Sènègas

This head fuck
of name calling
of twisted tattle tales
designed to enlighten
denial, woefully inadequate
thoughtless mistakes.

Repeat

Repeating

Sorry, like an episode
for Days of Our Lives
sitcom reruns running
us around everyday
almost all day
serially on a brim
full of bullshit
on a 45.

Repeated

Bullshit,
as much as toward myself
as arrogance is arrogant —
my head is a
spinning vortex gaining
cyclonic ferocity; something
akin to time travel
on fast forward.

Repetition

Repeats

Repeating

The same old same old
he said she said
you said I said
till one said too many flew
over the fucking cuckoo
to nest – resting
between my ears
stuffing my fingers.

Repeatedly

Measuring spoons
gauging the airs
and graces; my presence
testing the water
temperature finding
temperament doused
in acidic
misogyny.

Just fucking stop it!
Fucking stop it!
Stop it!
STOP!

You’re too big
for my shoebox.

© Copyright 2015, Jodine Derena Butler & ‘Poetry Out West’. All Rights Reserved.

Savage

Set Fire

Image

image

I’ve been living in a war zone.

So it seems, three and a half years
of Hell with nothing left
to show for it,
except heartache
and pain
watching love leach
from my soul; phosphorescent,
sparks like spheres float up, up
and away to fizzle out
in to nothingness.

Since when did I become
the enemy?

Clumped into the annuls of misogyny
tarred / scarred
for being a woman empowered
because I threaten the old ways
where women were barefoot
and pregnant,
swathed in floral aprons
with floured hands kneading
wholesome Madonna complexes
designed to subdue.

I love

depth and passion
moving my heart to where I am
mesmerized in awe; my fragile smile
let loose like an arrow
straight and true into you
and I, jubilant
where I am left wondering
where you have been
all my life – that I would
do anything for you.

I love my self more,

and I am not broken completely.
I can take those looks of contempt
along with those cutting words
and stand my ground against interrogation/subjugation
I lead myself in cycles, navigating
my way out of ear shot for a while
till I can stand it no more,
when I hide away inside
and stuff my fingers.

All is not lost,

despite my sense of guilt at not being
strong enough in your eyes,
unlike grandma whom you adored,
admiring resilience
I am merely a shade by comparison
if I subscribed to your anger and hurt
if I took her on and became
a better person, wife, mother for you
if only I chose to keep my mouth shut
like she learned in the war.

I don’t believe

staying silent will keep us alive
these days. Life requires I fight
for truth, freedom, rights and for love
so you may find your self, lifted from those ashes – Dachau, and understand that women need
tenderness, a kindness that takes away
the hurt of injustices, finding safety
your arms filling me with hope
that I am not alone.

It is with great sadness

that I must choose love,
letting go the innocence of youth
and embrace my own mortality
if I am to be a survivor.
I cannot condone atrocities
of any kind and turn a blind eye
without losing that part of myself
that wanted to die, finding respect
in being true to myself
Lest We Forget.

I am mourning

a life of trials and tribulations
that had me in tears for the most part.
My heart is broken, I no longer believe
in you, us – I am setting fire to the 3rd mar
closing my eyelids on my dreams
facing those feelings
I have been too afraid to feel
reaching in to pull them out
into the open and lay myself bare
so I can finally heal.

Goodbye my love,

we will all be OK.

Puncture

Snow Patrol

© Copyright 2016, Jodine Derena Butler. ‘Poetry Out West’, All Rights Reserved

The Mariners Tale

Home7

“Land Ahoy!”

His First Mate
not more than two feet away, still doesn’t see Hinemoana coming.

“Bring her about hard & fast
& shut your bloody mouth boy!”
after the full force
hits the stern with a swift kick
aimed right up the Jacksie!

She giggles.

It’s an entertaining Port
full of surprises, guffaws
& sudden gusts of wind;
her Devil’s Tongue
quick as lightning
her Siren Song
slipping in & under.

He lays it on thick.

He would feed me grapes
if it weren’t for the Oyster’s, Swordfish, Tuna, Salmon & Lumpfish, a good bottle of Veuve serving up a concoction of frivolity with a sharp spank on the arse for good measure.

No sea legs required here.

Our naked flamboyance
barely creates a ripple,
our island paradise
looking out over the sea
from a safe distance —
your bridge.

I can see the stars up there
& planets
my world seems bigger
brighter
I stare transfixed into space
but I am not lost
I feel strangely nestled.

Green Tree Frogs
& the hope of a Vine snake or two
keep my curiosity peaked.

Michael rows
his boat ashore.

I am not unlike an island.

© Copyright 2013, Jodine Derena Butler. All Rights Reserved

REBLOGGED on Dream Big Dream Often

Lady Lazarus & the Voice of Ratified Reason

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“If I had the grace to fall apart respectfully, there would be no need for enlightenment”. JD Butler

He’s using me, I’m using him – both of us working on a palatable means to several ends & everyone’s happy on the dance floor, except me / Lady Lazarus, fully loaded

machinations mimicking my madness & everything I have survived is temporarily erased from my memory / the neglect, the rapes, the con artists & the turning of blind eyes. The violence

of insanity, cleansing the last of my contemptible dirty pieces. A ruse in the end, designed to ratify my plea bargain, still set to drown in a sea of toxic shame, churning

out green bile – something the dogs love to salivate over.

/

It all sounds so depressing, except for the sun that continues to rise; refracted light beams infiltrating my cracks,

forcefully illuminating all remaining fragments of hope that haven’t yet marvelled at a setting sun. I am thankful.

If I had the grace to fall apart respectfully, there would be no need for enlightenment, you would all marvel at my unadulterated halo & drop to your knees, prostrate

but I am a mere mortal woman. No God could ever carry me across the sand or walk on water or set me down on the island of my choice,

without some sort of comeuppance; paying the ferryman requires nerves of steel / I lack the will to either live or die,

in peace.

© Copyright 2018, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

Imagination

Working through Cobwebs

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Melbourne Street Art – Artist Unknown
Photographer: Jennifer Cox
Photo used with permission

I’m trying to work through cobwebs, he said,

with eyes pouring like rain
into a leaky boat
squaring off the shoreline
heading out to sea
avoiding Redbacks
like the plague
negotiating rogue waves
behind his back
facing his fear; ex
tended arms pull
away — escape
for a moment.

He scans the horizon
left to right that sinking
feeling farther, closer
than he expected denial; a river
too far away to row a thunder clap
into eternity
Isis turning a blind eye
Triton drags him
under, spinning
a vortex only Terra
firma can translate.

Taking the bull
by the horns he finds
solid ground wrestling
knee deep in mud that sticks
like shit on the inside,
cobwebs cling to hard
wired neurons
lodged in the gaps
in between grey,
a matter for the black
and white.

Separate facts find
fiction fornicating
in a web of deceit
by design, too lurid
for children like
Persephone – abducted
innocence; a metaphor
for rape choking the Hell
out of life, all the while
pseudo affection bribes
a handful of lollies
to sweeten the blow.

I want everything to be saved,
he said.

© Copyright 2016, Jodine Derena Butler & ‘Poetry Out West’. All Rights Reserved

Notorious

Interstellar Medium

Orion Constellation

1.

Orion takes my breath away!

His belt & scabbard first
then shoulders
& I wrap myself around himI am at peace
looking out over the ocean
& a sky full of stars

You are not unlike Orion
guiding distant ships on the horizon
I am like Klingon
(Klingon usually mate for life)

but not this tide
we are an interstellar medium:
the space between
Euryale & Poseidon

2.

We are of the Sea

reef, rocks & shoals
perilous waters
where foghorns & Siren songs sound familiar
where fishy tales flush pink
& my Veuve overflows

It doesn’t take me long to remember
expectation is one, two, threefold
we navigate in the dark sometimes
moonlit mirrors reflect only one part of the whole
our universe is bigger than most.

3.

I draw a line in the sand

for both our sakes
there can be only one
I feel the waves crash on the shore
we are all arms & legs
slipping & sliding

in & out of the water.
I look to the stars & my faith
for one brief moment there is no existential crisis
Orion’s heavy breathing & sigh of relief

bring us both back to reality
under the surface
Death is not an unknown entity:
one last roll of the die
& our fate could be sealed.

4.

Thank you

Orion will always be near
Jupiter will always be the biggest planet
the full moon will always shine on me.

I could never go past King Island
without thinking of you
candlelight, frogs & our best mate
Captain’s call still falling on deaf ears

but nevermind
I’m still as blind as a bat
& you’re as old as the hills.

© Copyright 2015, Jodine Derena Butler. All Rights Reserved

REBLOGGED on Ink & Quill

Demeter & Persephone

Demeter’s world is falling apart
she enters the tomb
leaving behind every last bit
of skin and bone

her heart in jagged little pieces
tears condensed salted earth,
her spirit as dark as Hades, ashen
her womb, a barren undergrowth of loss, her voice, a howling banshee
sevenfold

Persephone revisited in dreams
her escape futile, Hades whispers
she runs, never holding on nor looking back

dismembered dissociation awaits
those who fail
while cadaverous limbs are discarded
fertile appendages flail
her pieces crumble to dust

Demeter withdraws her love
only to find a serpent tongue
suckling at her breast

Demeter descends, Persephone awaits
her chamber the great unclean
unashamedly devouring our lost souls

Demeter falls to her knees in despair
death is just a figment and life
here is just a memory

she breathes in the rancid air,
the smell of a distant pyre
she kisses the hand that feeds her

there are only fools here in paradise.

Copyright © 2009 Jodine Derena Butler. All Rights Reserved

Astral Dissociation & the Unattainable Cryogenic Pathway to the Stars

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“Who gives a fuck anyway? This makes no sense at all to anyone with amnesia” JD Butler

Give me a .50 calibre assault weapon and I’ll show you how it’s done properly!

*

I’m from New Zealand and I can still marvel at the Milky Way, navigate my eyes toward the Southern Cross & find South in a flash.

Orion has a huge belt and scabbard and it still makes no sense; forbidden cliché sneaks up like a sniper in a sonnet.

What matters, is that poetry is devoid of faux pars and bright stars or anything obviously too subliminal for the masses that may require a deeper space continuum to ponder; an intellect that uses advanced thought to communicate,

falling on deaf and dying stereocilia hairs. Ears, to those who need further clarification, while my advanced alien brain sits within a universe only 2% of the world’s population can grasp.

The bourgeoisie cream themselves over it, while they play with their pencil and sharpener.

/

Poetry is only for those with a university education – an English degree, followed by a Diploma in Counselling and a Master of Creative Writing (an advanced degree with Honours). A PhD means power has been attained and is now ready to wield.

We, are merely stepping stones to someone else’s grandiose glory. Poverty and distress are relegated to the past, hidden in a black hole; inertia becoming the internalised abuser. Orion was once the great cosmic overlord,

looking down his nose.

/

Better not piss off the editor either, she’s next in line followed closely by someone we all know and love with his proverbial nose shoved up both of their arse’s.

Who gives a fuck anyway? This makes no sense to anyone at all with amnesia, but it is my way of creatively dying; poetic suicidal justice, is in a league all of it’s own.

*

Now, you’ll all have fodder for your next project fail and that makes me an evil genius.

© Copyright 2018, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

Conversant

There is Nothing Special about Mary

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Photographer: Judith Bender-Jura

1.

Mary, the one without
a Halo — a married whore,
found unconditional love
hiding in the soles of His feet.

After the fact that
pseudo relationships
took precedence for a while,
she washed Him clean

for no other reason
than to show respect, reverence
for one that would give
His soul for her.

2.

My feet are bare, scarred
by broken beer bottles & red
blood paint tips to toes,
manicured to perfection once

upon a time. His feet
are cold; numbness held in a vice-like
grip as she works her way up
past calves & quads seeking

warmth in the apex comfort
sucking a thumb print, embedded
ecstasy applying pressure
where it hurts, to ease the pain.

3.

She thinks the sun shines.
Cradling his head, healing hands
mindful of circular breathing, muscles & tendons ache for release.

Mary doesn’t mind manipulating
bones, fingering the spaces
in between, redirecting blood flow
to all the right places. Kneading,

stretching & burns ping back, send signals like sparks; endorphins
take up the slack, usher in sweet
sensation & nipples peek.

There’s nothing special about Mary
knowing a thing or two,
making money serving more than a handful of life’s little pleasures. Making hay while the sun

shines requires little effort on her part, preferring to let it slide
up past the point of no return. Those days over now
before they really took hold.

4.

Mary looks at him spent, kinesthetic
energy on standby as he reconsiders
where he stands. The party’s over,
someone has to clean up, Mary

learning to love the hand
that feeds her, wishing sometimes
for independence and silence, in
between phone calls. Those days

over now, up for tender for the next
wave of youthful antagonists who seek an existence unbeholden. Love
knows no rules of engagement.

© Copyright 2016, Jodine Derena Butler & ‘Poetry Out West’. All Rights Reserved

Impression