Sold

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Photographer Barbora Biňovcovà 

You sold me out, listening to thugs and bigots

I was the best thing since Findlay, only I ended up like Gaddafi with a knife in my back landing face down

What did I ever do to you?

I would have met, if it weren’t for the stench of deceit that smirks behind your false humour attempting to cast a shadow over my outlook

Gas lights your way ahead; a shimmer of truth in everything you say minus the facts, calculating my goodness to open up doors

You had it all Mr Black, and I gave it willingly till I saw past the facade – my asking questions was not the tell that gave you away

It was your penchant for believing I was like you, but I’m not

I am nothing like you!

I thought I saw a flicker of sadness on your face when I walked by, but I felt no penny’s fall

I blacked out your face in my periphery that protects an empty hole where you once lived, disconnected from everything about you

Just be thankful you couldn’t see the blue eyes that hide behind a white fluffy cloud, instead of staring

The future is up in the air

Let’s see if your hand/eye coordination is as good as you once thought, although my cards don’t rely on slight and my deck is not for sale

Are you happy now? You almost have what you want, but the yoke is still around your neck (mother)

I am where I’m meant to be, alone kicking up a storm in my grandmothers teacup, with my mouth wide open

Sold! To the highest bidder


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


The Joker

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The Joker
plays his cards then prays
for forgiveness
to a middle eastern Christian God
before hurling abuse
to those who aren’t white
professing to love women
secretly harbouring unfathomable hate
suppressed rage
staring Red indifference in the face
of reason, his reason
an excuse for payback; vindictive
retribution designed to maximize
powerfully charged emotional punches.

I have loved more than once
choosing my heart over head
batting eyelids deflecting
eggs scrambling to make sense
of the impossible scenario
time after time questioning
my self refusing to settle for anything
less than truth
watching loved ones turn
roll over, pulling the wool
over already unseeing orbs
holding on to contempt for love
lost

Death has defined me
grief ripping me apart
till I am stripped bare and
‘The Joker’ plays me for a fool
his denial hardly concealed now
his truth defining him in the end
hidden underneath a facade
charm dangerously like a predators
false sense of security
when his hands are tied
his dirty hands
he tries to launder abrasive
repeatedly.

Money
the root of all evil
threatens to ignite the paper trails
that have us entwined
enmeshed together by banks
loans and fine print
our future only leased
the balance drains the half full cup
sentiment caught never to be released
that Holy Grail
proving to be forever out of reach
what chance did we have?
the die has been cast.

My love
my darling
you were my everything
my beautiful sweet illusion
my heart aches for remembering you
how you were before you changed colour
I fell head over feet for you and yours
grazing my knee in the process
I succumbed, numbing my defenses
getting back up being pushed back down
losing another fragment of hope
each time threatening don’t
now, the joke is on you.

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