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

Maximòn

Photographer: Scott Wilcox, Fuzion Photography, 2017

“…fine tuning the in-between of harmony; hearts, earth & sky” JD Butler

Maximòn,

the epitome of balance:

patience & frustration,

softly spoken & vehement.

Ritual billowing, vaping

new life

into old lungs,

filtering

pure tobacco into undulating balls of steam.

His stage is an altar.

We dance, cleansing much more than our spirit,

fine tuning

the in-between

of harmony; hearts,

earth & sky.

Our effigy, enlightening the soul & keeping her secrets,

venerable in his wisdom.

Our Columbian overlord garnishes

the Mayan temple our grandfather’s bestowed.

Protective.

Upcycling shadows, illuminating the light –

breathing new life.

He is the embodiment of patronage & the people,

regenerating

health, crops, marriage, business, revenge & death.

Holding

our community together.

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

Maximòn

Glimmer

Karma, Brainiac & Putin’s Balls of Steel

“Karma…she doesn’t rely on intel, cointel, black or psy ops of any kind” JD Butler

1.

Relationships,

are not all they’re cracked up to be.

They are like sabotaged roses; severed from stems,

rolling like heads,

to feel like

Oh!

/

I don’t know.

2.

Denial,

is like sleep walking, except star gazing in day dreams,

avoiding

a fourth kind encounter, shining a light beam on all our useless airs & graces.

Waking hours are left,

wanting.

3.

Karma’s, not any dirtier than her alter ego would suggest either.

At least she let’s you in,

ties you up,

then fucks you up the arse before she withdraws.

/

In her world, she doesn’t care.

She doesn’t rely on intel, cointel, black or psy ops of any kind,

in order to see past you & into the future.

To her, we are all space invaders that have the potential to devour.

4.

Russia, may be all over the West but Brainiac’s got the universe covered.

He sucks & fucks his way though world’s several times over – therefore, we won’t have a shit show in hell, by the time he gets here.

Putin’s already won his war anyway (the West is going down).

By the time you realise WTF just happened, that warm thermonuclear feeling you have between your legs –

will be soiling more than just your knickers.

5.

There is no infinity & beyond when relationships are run on denial.

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

Betrayed

Karma Keto

One camel toe please,

two new boobs,

one new neck,

one flat stomach

& two stick arms.

The goal has been exceeded, in Thailand.

/

Swell hell, can go to hell!

Karma tells me she’s having Keto tonight.

Next stop, Brazil.

One fat transfer please,

two stick legs

& a Partridge in a pear tree.

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

Micro

Bangkok Deconstructed

Bangkok deconstructed:

fractured concrete buildings, ripped apart as I watch from my Somerset window.

Steel, jutting haphazard in tangled knots; a once perfectly acceptable infrastructure,

now crumbling blocks fall into piles of useless rubble, while machinery scrapes the lot into a perfect square level playing field.

Ready for the next wave of antagonists selling prosperity,

pins & pegs.

/

Nips & tucks,

scalpel’s cutting across corners, aligning smooth curves with invisible sutures.

Skin, falling into plastic bags; trophies with twistie ties, all captured by Five Eyes.

Fat globules disperse & intermingle among the blood & yellowing toxic waste,

stretch marks & saggy skin. Torture under white lights (hung, drawn & quartered), like medieval madness.

Discarded pieces of meat/flesh going up in smoke, incinerated into giant plumes.

*

Rancid ashes & suffocating dust resuscitating enlightenment

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

Invisible

Ode to Cigarette Withdrawal

Anticipation builds
an iron lung

the sweet desire
for oral pleasure
still lingers
on my
lips

/

one last
taste
lick
fix

she slips
into something
warm & inviting

& I watch him
slowly undress
before raising his shaft

can I have one?
her voice
pleading desperado

he assumes the position
& I am sucked right in

he gestures
she folds, rolls
& sets her fire to smoulder

her submission
concluded
his mission
accomplished

© Copyright 2010 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved