Skin & Bitch Bone

I don’t want to go to Church;

Have to kneel for a scrap of bread,

Have to beg for forgiveness,

Have to swallow an empty vessel for a measly sip of port wine.

All of it, on my divine time —

For a bullet with my name on it.

I don’t want to be told what to do;

When I am deemed worthy enough for you.

Where I can live, when you decide

Who I can be with, if it suits them.

What I can wear, to show off my hour-glass figure & classic class.

How I earn my pittance pay & not be dependent on you for anything —

That doesn’t meet with family approval.

I don’t want to live this way;

Waiting for a skin & bitch bone

Salivating over moldy morsels

Wagging my mangy tail,

Waiting for that prayer of approval.

I am of Mary Magdalene.

The Patron Saint of Prostitutes

The red right hand of Jesus —

His only true partner in crime.

I am a Goddess in my own right

& I deserve to be equal, besides

I don’t take kindly to being manipulated by Romans or Benedictine

Monks, attempting to make meals on wheels look A La Carte.

Men who would starve a loved one, & feed a stranger, if it meant they were a step closer to the light.

Attonement casts an evil shadow —

Double standards rape & pillage your family values & family members drop like flies amongst the lies.


Heart’s bleed out through cathedrals & stained glass window’s, while you profess your love in gypsy spades.

You piss all over me like a stinking leper!

You, who would decide if I live or die!

Let those who cast the first stone wallow in self pity because I turn my back.

I walk away from you & yours, my bright future fading into despair like the grandiose mirage that it was.

All of it, on your terms.

You would discard me in a heartbeat.

Your entitlement precedes your entourage of everything & nothing,

Where you would set limits on love to the detriment of your own broken heart.

So be it!

These are all moot points in the grand master plan anyway.

The great scheme of things to come, comes at a much greater cost & one I can live without.

Hozier- Take Me To Church

© Copyright 2020, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved

10 thoughts on “Skin & Bitch Bone

  1. I was a catholic school boy, and the Church is actually a ghost with no power in my life. I almost got rid of sexual abuse, and currently a friar teacher from my school has been convicted of abusing girls. For many years, I had a lot of anger against the Church, but now what remains is the best of Christian doctrine, forgiveness and compassion, and the worst, a certain sexual repression for not having had a healthier relationship with women, because in my time, there were only boys in my school. Now I think that I would like to return to the Church and continue inside, the chastity that my wife already obliges me to, without really knowing what it is due to. Once I have known love, sex and disappointment as a couple, I think it is the best time to embrace Christian values again. And poetry. To relieve us of pain and heartbreak. But it’s only one path, mine, because I deserve a shelter from the storm. I forgive that unfortunate priest who subtly caressed my penis, because Jesus Christ was not enough for him, and his lust blinded him. He was a poor devil full of loneliness. I suffered from teachers full of cruelty and contempt. I forgive them. They probably never were loved by anyone. But I´m not a saint. I´d like to desire and fuck wildly, to really feel that I am wanted. But that is only available to a few, that’s why I take refuge in God like a wretch.

    Liked by 1 person

    • The Church has a lot to answer for. Unfortunately there are many sad stories such as yours, but you are right. God resides within us and is answerable to no one but ourselves. To forgive is one thing, but to love and nurture ourselves with divine love, through pain and torment, takes courage and faith. For most of us, it is a journey of self discovery. To Thine Own Self Be True xx


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