The Slow Toll Bell

Illaru at Night

I am dying.

My bones leach, ache

In my catatonic state and my mind

Drifts skew-whiff, a vagabond pilgrimage

Across the Never Never astral plain.

Final destination riding slipstreams and moon beams

To infinity beyond nightmares

Passing through spectre

Through astro fields

(wrought iron cages)

Through Aeon.

I am bed bound, Catholicism eyeing my orphan crib

Lined with soggy biscuits and cheap red wine

Remnants of a past life

Neglect, emaciated limbs distended malnutrition

Wormholes in my solar plexus

Infiltrating dessert.

I can see small babies kick—

Dung beetle’s all legs, flat on their back’s

Only half way there.

The slow toll bell calls my body, anchor

Illaru strained against the silver tide

Subsidence destined to reside

In Long Beach under night sky,

Piece meal.

Condor tempt me to stray

Death wish incubus prey,

I pray to an unknown Goddess in my final hour

She comes like Madonna,

Mary Magdalene leven Ishtar

And all I can do is wait

To be held in her warm arms.

I am dying.

My bones leach, ache

In my catatonic state

In my mind’s eternal damnation.

Eternal Damnation

© Copyright 2022, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved

Strangers

It was like meeting a stranger.

That uncomfortable feeling of awkward recognition and detachment — that made me want to run least I fall apart, reveal my core which you saw, reflected back at you between glimpses.

That unspoken knowing.

I felt the push of energy and the pull of old habits back into regression, back into the familiar comfort zone of old where nothing changes and we both die a little bit more inside and destiny forgets to reset.

I’m wondering if we’re humble enough to surrender, strong enough to become vulnerable long enough to push through the sparks, ignite the fire and transform pain into passion so we can both decide to rise.

We dance as if we’re going nowhere but in reality, we are already somewhere. Somewhere untapped, viscerally raw and undeniably on the edge of something far greater than either of us anticipated of love.

I want us to push through.

We are free falling to unknown depths and still creating marble pillars from blind faith alone, to eck out an existence that illuminates the veils so we can both find freedom in enlightenment.

All we need to do is walk through the door and let go of the past once and for all and finally fall completely and utterly in love where nothing else matters, except us.

© Copyright 2021, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved

My Delirium

My Delirium

My thoughts are a jumbled mess of confusion (yours, his, hers & mine) scrying for something to hold onto long enough to make sense of the anchors and foundations we’ve both forged from pain, which now threaten to cave in. There is nothing I can do but watch. You are the man. My dreams and cracked beams are giving way to violence — detachment and oblivion. Nothing will be left but a fully loaded house of teetering cards.

All I feel is loss.

The aftermath will have me face to face with Charon. He sits upon my chest now, opening up my third eye bidding me to say goodbye one last time. My soul declines, offering suffering in silence, compassion finding release in a steady stream and I overflow. My ears make wells to muffle his bargain but I belong to no one, not even him. I am a lost cause.

If I accept, demons could still tear me apart, dismember my appendages piece by bloody piece before sewing me back together skew-whiff, over and over again until I am utterly insane. Therein lies the abyss. The place that makes my life a living hell and all my heart aches for, is to love and be loved.

But all I feel is sadness.

Abandonment caves in my ribcage too. It digs in like a tick underneath my lungs and sucks every last drop of fluid left from my life. I am wrung out and strung out, so I waste no time in knocking myself out just to get lost — I wander in the ether to find her again and bring her back home but there is always a catch.

Twenty two foregone conclusions reek of tyranny. You can’t save me! I was lost before you found me and I don’t belong to you or them or here or anywhere and it will always be like this! I don’t want to believe in angels! I don’t want to believe in demons! I don’t want to live in this place!

There is another outburst of pain.

I seek comfort in my magic, my wand set to low creates slow circles that mimick your gentle touch. I feel pleasure for the first time since I last felt your gaze reach in to pull me out and into your Temple. You try to worship my foreign body, send ripples ricocheting between our vibrations but we have failed to find synchrony. In my delirium, I think I must have died.

All I feel now is grief.

© Copyright 2021, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved

Demeters Descent

Demeter Descending

You’ve been breaking me.

Killing me softly like that song, trying not to harm me, trying not to lie — letting me fall to see if I come back stronger. I know what you’re doing; giving me facts to face my fears
so you don’t have to wear a mask.

Sinking me down further, bit by bite.

You watch me wrestle with Psyche, see the squalls before they arrive, the rogue waves looming on the horizon and try to navigate the shit storm that is my life or so I imagine her lot,

Sometimes.

Forecast’s based upon trust, an old school remedy tried and tested over centuries of trial and error, almost on the doorstep of my abandonment. I have to want to choose my life over my life, play with fire or die in vain — seek some sort of comfort hold that pulls me close (safe), that doesn’t strangle me in my sleep.

Demeters demise.

Comes as no surprise then. Her return from the underworld fraught with danger, shed the All, her only hope of salvation and ascension coming to light; Zeus rumbling his desires expects nothing less than a fathers love in return.

I think I am forsaken.

You think I am like Poppy, offer me a chance to be apart of a real family, show me another way to heal, to find warmth and trust that I am genuinely loved where I can thrive, in time. Something I have too much of and not enough to squander.

I want to give it all away.

My job, my friend, my life in exchange for something worth fighting for, yet I am bereft, devoid and damaged beyond repair and you cannot reach me. I need more time to get over you.

Another, will begin another end

to wear me down to char. Somehow my destiny taunts me, forces me to watch and become nothing but a burdon I still have to carry when I can no longer fight and I don’t have what it takes to push through, for you.

Trust no one.

Bravery has always been a strong fulcrum point, an internal compass that leaps toward faith, a little too close for comfort in the end. My judgement will come as swiftly as Hera came forward to claim what was rightfully hers, tearing out her own heart for the sake of her enemies!

You don’t want me.

My demons are telling me I have to die a bit more in order to live but it still hurts to say goodbye. Either way, I am lost right now and there’s nothing anyone can do. You’re all in for a hell ride while I deconstruct and I make no guarantees that I will survive intact this time.

Evolution.

My head is trying to cling to straws while my heart is breaking and I have no where left to go, except home. The secret to survival is balancing hope and despair. I am doing my best and I am so tired.

Guflydktskyl vg j jkhlhc. Khhc khckhc. Uclhfflh. Yxjrekh. Kyeekgxkyggl. It all makes no sense to me. Just empty words in hollow spaces

All This & Heaven Too – Florence and the Machine

© Copyright 2021, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved

Heavy Heart

Eros & Psyche

Wide open, heart splayed fish knife style

Psyche, screaming white light laser beams; shoots

all remnants of Eros back into the ether

from that gaping hole he left behind, where he once belonged.

Back into the darkness.

Back into the arms of Hades.

Charon mimicking that elusive eternal light with his sway,

caressing Eros once again.

Psyche, abandoned

sinks like a torpedoed battleship straight to the bottom — much to Aphrodite’s delight.

Zeus, doing us all a favour by staying away this time,

crash lands lightening bolts a million miles from now.

One can only imagine the carnage.

Respect is earned.

It costs nothing to behave with honour.

Psyche deserves much more than angry lip service.

Love is not a fucking game!

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

Aphrodite

Zeus

Too Hard Kité

Māori Kité (basket)

Those days are over and my ❤️ is resigned.

Too many complications leave me questioning why.

I don’t bother putting my best foot forward.

I’d rather you saw me at my worst and most awkward.

There’s no point in trying anymore to be honest.

I’m too fucking angry to build rapport and flourish.

I don’t want a partner, I’m far too fucked up.

Finding friends is a challenge but that’s good enough.

You can lay it on thick and treat me sublime.

But I’m still gonna take myself home every night.

You just might really be the best thing for me.

But I’m too fucking burnt to begin to believe.

I’d rather push you away and self sabotage.

Than risk trusting you will be, who you say you are.

It’s wholly unfortunate and totally sad.

But I’ve had enough and it was pretty bad.

I like being independent, funky and fun.

I’m afraid to feel beautiful, desired and loved.

I feel myself falling and losing control.

And I fucking hate how it makes me withdraw.

But that’s how it is and for whatever it’s worth.

I think you’re ok but I’m still not so sure.

I don’t know what to do or even if I can try.

Regression takes me right back to being a child.

Then I reflect and feel all ashamed.

Knowing I’m being judged by myself and I blame.

I can feel the anxiety building up inside.

Leave me open, exposed and I lose my mind.

I’m completely imperfect, contemptible and flawed.

Selfish, self righteous and utterly scorned.

I don’t have what it takes to surrender my ❤️.

So let’s call it a day, while we can remember to laugh.

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

Killing Heidi

Last night was a true clusterfuck.

This morning, she’s thinking about taking a class

Act

Flashbacks of a child making desperate promises she can’t keep

Pray

She learned there was no one who really cared

Naked

A victim of conditioned responses or lack thereof killing Heidi off

Halo

Inextricably separate, forever grieving the loss of her

Forgiveness

When all it takes is to swallow it down whole and roll

Die

Did Heidi know how much it hurt?
© Copyright 2019, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

Heidi

Ariadne & the Consecrated Man

It’s taken conciliatory surprise to remind Ariadne of her desires;

her pending resignation of all things malodorous and contrite.

Old crone bones proffer up a willingness to decay

lay still, let mummified old sticks and stones settle in.

A labyrinth of bygones remind her of a well spring run dry

a summer of joy, cut short. The autumn equinox bears down

bending boughs to straighten those willowy heart strings once and for all.

She feels the clew constrict, stretch the last of the wine —

the last dram of mortality’s mundane, quenching nothing in the end

But a lust for a life lost, rendering her a prisoner and one of Klimt’s women

peeling back the golden years in rebellion, a fight to the last breath.

Abandoned yule tides of December wax and wane

when all she wants are lilies, and to be crowned ‘Queen of the Damned’

to be held in the arms of a consecrated man.

Alas, winter brings sadness and loss, chaos organising

the last supper muted in surrender, a fish. One final beat

forces remnants of hope to leave as gracefully as the slamming

of a door / his melted wings and her angst roar!

© Copyright 2019, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

Hard-wired

It’s a hard-wired

ephemeral life

I lead.

Half of me yearning.

Half of me mourning.

Desire

for a quick death,

overcome by the

monotonous grind;

clandestine,

dragging

it’s heels inching

forever forward

toward an unremarkable

destination.

Except for

that constant ache.

A low throb

moan between my

legs,

rising up & into

my belly, disturbing

the dying butterflies

there.

Oh to be blindfolded!

Black out spread eagled,

all solidified reminders

teased to know pleasure

for pleasures sake.

Played

like an object

of your imagination

& devoured

like a ripe peach.

I’m too old

for this shit!

Wanting

to just be loved.

No out-back

salt lakes to be found.

Slip streams

giving way

to an avalanche

in a classical black

& white silent movie.

It’s all too much

to take in,

the depravity

of age & of consent.

Too young, yet

too old to let

things slide.

Still, the tears come,

let loose

to chide & deride

my feminine critique;

that contemptible self

loathing that likes

to sink her

teeth in.

Heart

broken,

wanting for nothing

but life’s

simple pleasures

to sweep her

off her feet —

lead her into

an ecstasy of wanton

abandonment

for just one moment,

to still the voices

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

Nude

Pan

I could never look at you
the same way
I adored you, once
your true colours had me
in sensory overload
clutching at my heaving chest
in shock, my disbelief winded

reeling from the blows
you took such pride in

inflicting pain, deliberately
fueling retribution over lack
of supply, shows me I never knew
you – you who would do anything
for me, except love me
finding unjustified reasons
to hurt me

because I don’t abide.
I could never trust

the man that revels in pain,
his empowerment borne
plotting, scheming manipulations
splitting love in two
my aorta left to bleed
out, powerless –
it made him feel

like a man.
You’re not my man

I was your meal ticket,
your way to escape
demons; Dachau passed down
suffering in such a way
life was completely misunderstood.
Cruel Nazi mentality was a heartless
Mockingbird,

your SS badge of dishonour
worse, using children

as an apparatus for torture.
Where love nurtured trust,
spiritual guidance you squandered
on self-serving childhood needs,
your own metered out
shortcomings —
love is not yours to ridicule away

denying its abundant existance.
I will never trust my heart,

expose her soft underbelly
or offer her up
in sacrafice; a lamb.
Your God is a manmade
fallacy designed to subjugate
where misogyny, displaced whores
render Madonna complexes

in perpetual conflict.
I am disappointed in you

you, who had it all, proffered up
on a silver platter
a want for nothing, except coveted jealousy
lusting after sinful greed
you let breed and wreck havoc.
Mr Black is a predator, a perpetrator
you let run roughshod over me
I am not the only one, women

your future is predictable by nature,
I hope with what’s left

you learn your lesson well.
I wanted a man – a man,
not a spoiled little boy
throwing tantrums to up
the Antichrist in pursuit
of a misspent youth,
ungrateful to the core, matters
let go out of hand.
I am in Hell

sent there to rot in your abandon
but you didn’t bargain on meeting Demeter,
who will hunt you down
to save herself, mourning winter
the long days and sleepless nights
haunting your nightmares.

She, who see’s right through you,
will dance upon your grave.

© Copyright 2016, Jodine Derena Butler. All Rights Reserved

Pan

Meddle

Moult

Fistfuls of hair
drop
down past my knees
onto the floor

I watch ______
I watch parts of me
leave

I feel abandoned

© Copyright 2010 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Incubus & the Nymph

Incubus circle
in delayed formation
my nymph
debilitated and abandoned now
satiety a vestige
of reckless abandonment
elsewhere
pledged allegiances suffer
stuffed down the gullets
of imploding rivers
seething Red
in distaste
indecent proposals are
swallowed whole,
recalcitrant yearnings
succumb to the dirge
mountains begin to crumble
the ingratiate turns
her back, again
rock and debris fall
on deaf ears
on deaf ears, my
dwindling reserves
purge the last of my resolve

© 2009 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved