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

How long is a piece of government red tape?

How long is a piece of government red tape?

As long as the Centrelink line down the street. Peasants line up hoping a millionaire hands out $100 bills.

As long as the ATO or MyGov queue — hours spent on the phone with nothing to do, except go insane.

As long as the musical loop designed to hypnotize prepares us to jump through some pretty big hoops.

As long as essential services exclude small businesses whose livelihood depends on everyday life for the poor.

As long as poverty remains below the imaginary line and we consume all the food after the due date.

As long as our bank balances stay in the black, we won’t be charged exorbitant fees for money we can’t make — a pseudo handshake pushing the mortgage back.

As long as we are compliant, stay at home and watch TV and become brainwashed into depression and anxiety.

As long as we stay in touch with the masses of faux friends on social media, breaking community standards in a double blind experiment.

As long as our health needs are met by big pharma and our garden grows GE/GM food designed to fail.

As long as we keep posting photos, videos and shit shows with dildos online, to paint a picture of relief.

In short, go off-grid and make your very existence an act of rebellion for as long as your divinity refuses to be manipulated.

The Last Custer Fuck

Move over Corona!

You’d have to be bloody blind to believe Corvid19 is the dreaded lurgi: it’s only the common cold repackaged into the dreaded flu, commandeered to implement the first wave of a Globalist attack, the last Custer fuck for the dying imperialistic dream.

The bourgeois are creaming themselves for the last time, while socialism rises like a rogue wave revolting in it’s wake, leaving a trail of destruction in search of the snake – waiting for a drum roll and the last head to fall.

30,000 U.S. troops on the march in time to strategically coincide, singing My Corona and Uncanny Boy and the world follows the Pied Piper like a zombie hoard to a mass genocide. No masks. No suits.

The West is going down, but not without one final autoerotic spasm: a shit storm the size of China forcing everyone into the foetal position, while the banks foreclose with an enema.

Me?

I’m going to hedge my bets on the 1993, season 4, episode 21 of The Simpsons, and buy a bottle of Dettol and wipe the whole slate clean!

If I could do a Weinstein or an Epstein and get away with it, I’d want to open my mouth like Greta Thunberg and renegotiate a ‘Rommel Death’ with a slice of pizza but all the shaming I’ll leave to the Vatican, royalty, past presidents and Hollywood’s boulevard of broken dreams, to remind me I am merely a conspiracy theorist with a vivid imagination, trying to live a pipe dream.

The Simpsons, Season 4, Episode 21 predicts Corona Virus

Dettol Kills Coronavirus

New World Order, David Icke

© Copyright 2020, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

M M M My Corona

Corona Virus

My Corona

My Corona

Ooh my little dirty one, dirty one

When ya gonna give me that germ, Corona?

Ooh ya make my nose run, my nose run

Got it sliding down my lip line, Corona

Always blow my nose, wash my hands, do it all again

My, my, my, ay, ay, whoa!

M-m-m-my Corona

Come a little closer, huh, ah, will ya, huh

Close enough to give you my germs, Corona

Keeping it a mystery, conspiracy

Dripping from the edge of my eyes, Corona

Always blow my nose, wash my hands, do it all again

Never gonna stop, give it up, such a dirty germ

My, my, my, ay, ay, whoa!

M-m-m-my Corona

M-m-m-my Corona

My, my, my, my, my, my

My Corona

When ya gonna give it to me, give it to me

It’s just a matter of time

Corona

My Sharona by The Knack

© Copyright 2020, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

Famous Last Words

In the event of an imminent thermonuclear war, all we can do is watch,

& wait.

We wait for the sun to rise in the East – Putin, putting on the ritz, while the West opens their vintage wardrobe & rummages through threadbare tassles, choking on clouds of faux fur.

We, watch & wait

witnessing White Helmets filming fake news, staging fake attacks, doing God’s dirty work not dissimilar to Custer’s last stand.

Still, we watch

& wait,

while royalty fight over the spoils; children picking bones apart, the rise of Zion (Judas) & the damnation of Mother Mary

respectfully, although they both feed off one another like zombies in a blood bath.

Watching & waiting,

for the irony of it all to become clear. The penultimate finale – being surrounded by the proverbial white light.

Fucking bastards!

The last sun ever to set in the West, leaving everything we knew behind.

A spectacular sunset, followed closely by a long, dark, cold, post apocalyptic nightmare.

*

I for one, watch

scanning the horizon willing it to rain,

waiting

for a new dawn.
© Copyright 2018, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

Power

Disrupt

Sylvia Prefers Madness over Insanity

It’s going to hurt digging in, under my skin.

\

Trust. Pain.

Death before dishonour – the Cold War sits in Sylvia’s parlour,

pretending patience is a virtue. We all watch,

a slow burn, already warming the tips

of her lasciviously long

fingers,

licking at her lips.

/

She would rather shake you all off, than let loose another tirade,

another stone, another reason to beg

forgiveness.

Sabotage sinking to a new low.

\

Silvia’s far too unreasonable, although

she prefers irrational; madness defining her in the end. Hands

& feet securely strapped,

her mouth,

stuffed shut with gauze & gaffer tape.

No sign of life – metal bars

& padded cells

resembling reason.

/

Floral oriental lilies.

\

Shes always known how to let go.

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

Honesty Died with Bukowski

“Brown nosing is considered commentary, while deceit still lingers in gaslit ovens” JD Butler

People could learn to say what they mean, & mean what they say but

brown nosing is considered commentary, while deceit still lingers in gaslit ovens; no professionalism, integrity or due process. 

Fraudulent essentially – powerful people full of egotistical self righteous bigotry, who really don’t give a fuck! Zealots who would suck off anything & lick the rim, just to play the press.

I’ve retired, & that doesnt give anyone the license to try to get their end away by throwing a ‘seemingly solid’ literary curve ball at me, that’s totally full of shit!

Honesty died with Bukowski & I wish I lived in America, because I know exactly where to buy a cheap gun

without any background checks.

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

Dim

Unicorns & Rainbows

“Hillary…she’d be the first to ride her rodeo on the back of a silver bullet” JD Butler

1.

War, a battling agent designed to glorify ancient ruminating mores; thoughts, aided & abetted by Kim’s immortal unicorn’s & Trump’s small penis syndrome spouting poppycock, two death stars on a collision course designed to yield maximum impact, vaporized along with sanctioned collateral damage inside a nuclear vacuum. 

2. 

My brain is not unlike a chemical weapon, a ballistic missile without the regime change; two opposing hemispheres, except it’s lights out for North Korea & more freedom for America, but thats nothing compared to the super sonic shit storm about to rain down over the rest of us plebs, leaving no other alternative but to join in the furore or bite down on a little white capsule.

Japans fucking proverbial rainbow is the least of my worries – China has that angle covered & Putin’s KGB weighs in on their diplomatic psyops by looking down the barrel of a sniper scope. I’m surprised Trump’s still alive, he wouldn’t be if Hillary had her way, she’d be the first to ride her rodeo on the back of a silver bullet.

3.

We all have demons. Some just have the power to mobilise millions of indoctrinated patriots to do their dirty work for them. Turnbull wishes he had balls the size of Dutton’s border force – the good ole Australian way preferring to torture & torment whole nations into submission & we all know how that ends, except we keep the fight alive by abjectly refusing to surrender. Sound familiar?

Good old divide & conquer tactics they don’t teach you in school. If we all had little red button’s to push, we’d all be dead right about now, that grey slate wiped clean once & for all, but you can bet your bottom petro-dollar you’d need two corresponding red button’s to be pushed simultaneously somewhere else, by someone else for it all to go away. Anyone with a brain bigger than a peanut would have beaten the shit out of their button by now, with a big red hammer rendering them both useless.

4.

I’m tired. I’m tired of listening to monolgues of bullshit – diatribes of voices I recognise & once knew, who taunt me in my waking hours & consume me in my torrid nightmares. I’d like to find a cure, a single dose that does away with it all overnight, waking to find a gigantic mushroom cloud on the horizon, my zombie-like state basking in its afterglow. 

What the hell can any of us do anyway? Hippies are all psychedelic has-been’s & the internet’s got us all dumbed down with information overload, a juxtaposition if ever I’ve witnessed one, the fact is we’re all sitting on our fat arses in front of mobile stargates, waiting for another 9/11 false flag attack just enough to distract us from our disease!

5.

In the meantime, my mangled ovaries sit beside ghost fallopian tubes, in the void between surgical clips & internal organs, floating in intraperitoneal liquid; a vacuous black hole inside a deep space continuum, along with hubris.

I’m using that as my excuse.

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

Identity

Murder & Mayhem

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

Oil Birds

A Bird is mired in oil…
A Brown Pelican sits in heavy oil…
A Pair of Brown Pelican’s covered in oil…
A Sea Bird soaked in oil…
A Brown Pelican is seen on the beach…
A Bird covered in oil, flails…
A Brown Pelican is mired in heavy oil…
A Brown Pelican covered in oil…

all sit on the beach
at East Grand Terre Island
along the Louisiana Coast
on Thursday, June 3, 2010

© Copyright 2010 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Inspired by the photo’s of Charlie Riedel and also by the rescue effort of Bird Rescue in the Louisiana area.

To sign a Greenpeace petition to stop Oil Drilling off the coast of New Zealand click HERE.