God is Love

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I feel shattered
fragmented
my self dispersed
willy nilly
this way & that; sparks

on a funeral pyre

*

Isolated in a new country I proudly call my home, desperate for unconditional love and understanding. I am estranged from family who need no explanation least of all from me. We are grieving the loss of our precious little girl. The softest most gentlest child who has ever graced my presence. That’s the worst thing to comprehend. How could it all go so wrong?

Self pity and blame/shame become a toxic breeding ground for self-doubt.  Feeling victimized beyond where my psyche can find peace, I am being eroded from within. Still, those wicked thoughts work their way into my cracks, ever-widening, poisoning me from the inside out. I have a parasitic demon spreading its hideous tentacles into every mistake I have ever made reminding me of my foolish flaws. My lifesong is no more heard than those women in history; burned at the stake.

I thank God I was not born in that cruel Medieval era, although I recognise similarities in unjust sentences and we all know no one has a leg to stand on in times of prejudice. I see common sense, at the last-minute at least. Those women were tenacious, brave beyond measure and while the odds are gathering sticks stacking my pyre, my heart is with her and them, my love knows no bounds.

I make the calls, I speak my truth. It is all I can do to retain my dignity. My integrity is not in question, it has never been. I know right from wrong. There is  something insidious here at work, attempting to thwart justice by all devious means imaginable. It cannot last forever. She threatens me and us but though the system of things is corrupt, I am not.

Every day people are being dis – membered, crucified in the coldest places on earth. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy but she has brought us here to witness our incarceration and suffering, inflicting us with that cold, soulless stare. Her lust barely disguising her thirst for that elusive elixir of life.

I am human. I suffer like everyone else. My reserves are low and my inner flame is almost extinguished – doused by lies and deceit of the most heinous kind. I pray everyday for divine intervention. More than ever to Mary, to God, Goddesses, to the Crones, to whoever will listen. Those who weave their ancient threads on the great wheel of life, deciding our destinies.

By descending into hell, this time I know with certainty that wheel will rise again and I will find myself ascending, transcending all that was before. My faith wrapping my warm, safe, loving arms around her and us. I believe we are in the right place at the right time but the reasons for it are as yet unknown. I face this wrath. I take full responsibility for whatever I have failed to see and I will mourn.

My needs are the least important right now. Longer lives are at stake here. I am reminded of the Inquisition where women and poor innocent children were burned for nothing more than uttering truth in a world full of unscrupulous doings. My littlest princess is growing up way too fast. Her world separate from her self.

My focus is on one innocent child who is but a pawn in this farce. It is she who I admire, her resilience and the knowing that one day soon she will be reunited with love and have the best that love can offer her to heal. It won’t be too late, for love can work miracles for the most cruel of experiences. I have witnessed first hand how God will intervene having carried me in his stead before. Children are born resilient. They have inbuilt protection and I trust that she will be OK.

God is love and he does not desert his flock.

© Copyright 2015, Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

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Mr Black & the Muse

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I’m addicted to you
& your crooked muse smile
Mr Black

I’ll have you
know
you stole my heart
rendering her useless;
undoing held together
your thick lens
penetrating.
drunk & debauchery

Incognito
for a moment
nothing existed
except obsession,
compulsion mimicking
lust & Mr Black
rose like a Phoenix
under my skin

Every day, an eternity
to wait for you
my muse feigning temperance
the door handle turns
& I pick myself up off the floor
giggle & take the piss
Mr Black doesn’t
waste any time

Concord flights of fancy
meticulous mind-numbing marathons
whatever the abandoned mood once was,
I’m yours
you had me way back then,
smashed, crash landing on my bed
the sun about to rise
on the last place we left from

My balcony:
a table & two chairs
the Great Dividing Range
filtered by my Veuve Clichot
you with your Winnie Red
threshold surpassed
a box of beers,
tartan shorts & flannelette

*

I make you coffee.
night owls wouldn’t normally complain
under ordinary circumstances
but we are far from that place
the buzz & bleep of mobile phones
alter-egos known or not
pierce our cocoon
we drag our arse into work

Dreaming, we see all the children
& Grandma
Mr Black runs amok
kids fight over whose turn it is
blue smoke & green grass
Yamahahahahahahaha!
my Harley under wraps
coveted like our memories

© Copyright 2014, Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Garish Green Skirt


imprinted eyes

in the back of my legs,

ankle to thigh

scarred

like staples in a seam

>

a permanent stocking

a cheap whore in a supermarket

>

a doorway leads to a red dress

hanging polka dots

too small, so I

s t r e t c h

into chaos

beautiful & ugly

>

a garish green skirt

frumps from my fruit

>

bare breasts too full

walk into a dream –

she sits in front of the mirror

blank _________

>

I sneak a glance

at my reflection;

I am topless, fat & ugly

>

where am I?

where is my baby?


© Copyright 2010 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved