Hobnobbing

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Photo by JD Butler, 2017


We were hobnobbing with the beautiful people at the Sugar Wharf, tasting Port Douglas & the gorgeous lady from Delicious in her delightful floral arranged prints

the sexy Colin Fassnidge with his shy humour mesmerizing my mind, looking back through his black rimmed glasses

being fed sumptuous suckling pork & a cracking bohemian rhapsody on a stick (still stuck to the roof of my mouth)

Spencer Patrick, Paul Baker, Monty Koludrovic and David Moyle sharing smiles and solitious wit designed to tittilate our love for a good roast

hobnobbing with the locals, Louise & Mrs Mt Uncle Distillery, their infectious laughter drawing us closer to a ‘Party on the Gin’

some Kiwi’s burst out with homegrown debauchery in between mouthfuls & we were all drunk on life surrounded by Sheraton, lush

my Ashcats’ smile shone through his wandering eyes; my foodie let loose to feast, raising more than a toast to quench his thirst

while I soaked up the abundant ambient art in all its tantalising glory, sipping on much more than life’s little pleasures

we were hobnobbing, loving how Mitch Edwards tied us all together, having his way doubled over & it was all worth it

our Pavilion getaway ending on a Gorge filled with exotic natural beauty, Bush Turkey’s, the rush of white water, stunning emerald pools & divine flora filled fauna like textured tapestries!

we were hobnobbing in the Daintree

Taste Port Douglas

© Copyright 2017, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

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Copper Carries a Gun

He wants to be a copper, so he can carry a gun

In public where everyone can see, the man

He wants to be a copper, so he can shoot people

Pass the buck onto a badge

He wants to join the boys club, on the right side of the fence

He wants to be a copper, so he can bludgeon you all to death

/

With a smile on his face, masking his distaste 

Joking in the watchhouse, hiding his disgrace

© Copyright 2017, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

Gold Coast Whistleblower

Police Body Cameras Rarely Used

Rogue Cops

Dormant

Murder & Mayhem

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I’m not preaching
But I am being true to

My self. There is
Murder and mayhem.

I asked for it. I asked
For learning,

Mourning views
At the ocean

Tasman Sea side, beside
my de-railed train.

Smart. Taking stock
Taking measures.

Working it all out
Through trial

And error’s; Finding pride
Empowering

*

Fuck mainstream
Stigmata up the arse!

I say. In the carnage,
In the afterglow

Of my Fukashima.
My sub-woofers’ set

To subvert you
From your dissonance

Apathy
Hatred

Denial there is a war. I choose
Resistance

And by God –
You will remember!

Fuck the world
For me

Lest We Forget

Peter Dutton

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

Infuse

Purple Rain

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My father, Malcolm Roy Ball, Vietnam 1967-1970

War Torn

our world is being torn apart
I threaten conflicted outbursts
in remembrance of him
and them

*

My great grandfather’s fought in WWI
My grandfather’s in WWII
My father in Vietnam

He protests in his own way
no purple reign on his parade
or Prince
to overshadow
dvd’s re running over blue
and red clashes – violent flashes
of memory
in black and white snapshots
of the fallen
and homeward bound comrades
of Malaya and Singapora

They were shafted
in one way or another
left to ponder life
and death
still

images Napoleon could not reconcile
nor the English continue to suppress

I don’t think he will ever forget.

‘See that guy there?
He had his arm blown off
and that one hung himself
a couple of years ago’

His way of keeping it real
as much as for him
as for us, who are held captive
in his momentum

They were drenched in Orange, Red
and Yellow agents
descendants of a Purple rain
then left to fend for themselves
amidst a wrath and fury
one can only call ignorance
blinded by a politically correct
notion of compassion

They were only nineteen
and nothing compares to youthful
enthusiasm; to be not unlike
their forefathers

Teenagers today
get their psychedelic fix
whining and dining on a scourge
that has become a pandemic –
a demonic frenzy
of self indulgent arrogance!

Mary-Jane makes
a Nightingale of pain

Today is ANZAC Day
I am both proud and sad

I have a legacy to uphold
and if it weren’t for those men
and women who experienced trauma
I would not have known complex PTSD
or to let my mind take me
to a battlefield of my own design

In remembrance of them
and parts of my self
lost forever,
I like the eulogy of
walking in the purple rain

Lest We Forget

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

Prince, Street Art Eulogy

Uniform