I am
The High Priestess
Lifting the Second Veil
I am grieving
That I am
Invisible
That I am
Denied
Used & abused
Wounded
That I am
Powerful
That I am
Spiritual
Magnetic
Eternal
That I am
Goddess
That I am
The Medicine Woman
The Artisan &
The Determinatress
I am healing
My Akashic DNA
I Am
© Copyright 2021, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
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
She longs to be held,
my Mary Magdalene, in a lovers embrace.
Spooned & cocooned
Jesus, giving his life
for her.
His arms, extend
holding on giving in
sinking further; a fusion
of flesh & bone,
a comfort hold & home.
I know he too saw
the black curtain fall
& from that moment
they were lost. Lost
& found.
Karma settles scores
resets the All, divine demands
an eternal sacrifice
& Mary yearns for desire
to make it all worthwhile.
A light.
Recognition, foretells
omens coming in three’s,
a wiccan rede; magic, morality
& the afterlife,
a promise from Eden.
She wails. Mary
kisses the soul of destiny,
trusting something bigger
than her parts & let’s go
giving in to fates fury.
A slow grind
losing lust’s sake
to find love & the third eye
delves to depths of compassion
just to be touched.
I long to find her
bring her back whole
to let you in & feel
time expand & contract
as-if we were one.
Despair leaves her wanting.
Holy moments
of magic come & go
Mary holds on, buries herself
in Jesus’ warm arms & hides.
Two lovers lament
looking for something
& leave with nothing; numbness
held in a vice-like grip.
Begone!
Time, will ignite
the cosmic fire
that drew them together. Love,
is bigger than what they once
knew of love.
If I surrender, we can
let go — trust
universal intelligence &
rebuild the architecture of life
in our own image.
Mother Mary is finding her way
& it is already written in the stars.
Jesus IS the way, the truth
& the light.
Ours is creation.
© Copyright 2021, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
Demeter feels deep shame.
That niggling voice belies demons who whisper their disapproval. I don’t want them to hate her. It’s easier to hide away until she can return, find compassion for their mistrust.
She is too big.
The things she pontificates under duress, scare me. It is best that I learn to trust Hermes – to ask for something with a reason instead of stealing something without one.
Mourning.
Loss, tears open a hole — splits a scar further apart; destroying a perfectly sealed crust. Fragments of flaky skin scatter to the wind, shed a diatribe of unforgiving.
She moves in and out of the ether.
Flying through space and time searching for another wormhole, another passage to take her to Persephone, that damned alter-ego who dwells in the deep recesses of purgatory. Home is where her heart aches to return.
Demeter negotiates another extrapolation.
Manifesting a spiral vortex, she hones her parts and I wait for the impact to knock me off my feet — wake me up with a jolt of epiphany where I love the magnificence of my creation.
She does not belong to Hades.
Demeter is radiant. All the virtues I try to bestow; a culmination of strength and vitality and love to honour – my integrity in spades.
I am omnipresent.
Her mouth is shut preferring solace over a wailing lament that conjures a maelstrom of death and dying. I could do well to endure no more, wrath has held me bound.
Tonight Demeter ascends.
I return to myself and you are free to wander in search of true love and find your Artemisia, a perfect match for your Nemesis.
No Light, No Light by Florence and the Machine
© Copyright 2021, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
My heart aches.
I feel your absence &
withdrawal; a choke hold on my creative impulses.
Punishment for some unforgivable crime?
Another cycle of illusion.
Another full moon delusion.
I wait.
Patience, Aphrodite’s one remaining virtue
bites her tongue.
Still, her voice will not be silent.
Another cycle of illusion.
Another full moon delusion.
She holds you even now
but where are you taking her?
I hang by a silver thread, a hangman’s noose
on a whim & a prayer.
Another cycle of illusion.
Another full moon delusion.
Aphrodite is on her knees!
Still, I remain invisible.
All the excuses in the world are unworthy
of the Emperess’ devotion.
Another cycle of illusion.
Another full moon delusion.
They all remain at arms length.
Close enough to touch
yet too far away to miss; a bouquet of wildflower’s &
the greener grass of home.
© Copyright 2021, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
I very rarely receive poems from other people, lovers or friends. This one warms my heart ❤️
It’s taking a while to penetrate.
Belief,
depth
conviction
lived realities
a survivor’s strength and courage,
in the face of adversity, love and loss.
The dedication
commitment,
the hard work you put in for others,
from your self
for love.
All those beautiful, wonderful, loving words you woo
of depth and beauty,
a kind heart,
care and thought,
steadfastness and
bravery
grinding.
It’s taking a while to penetrate
into your world of darkness
into your world of light
to see if truth comes anywhere close
to what we need or desire.
Most days, delays are lost
important little things
two minutes too late.
We are filled with flaws – holes.
Belief waxes and wanes,
cycles of movement entice
Psyche and the Emperess to dance;
the jurisprudence of my mind
staying grounded.
Eros and Midas hone their power
and fortitude swings the pendulum,
slows down time —
creates a rhthym
from which you will rise.
It’s taking a while to penetrate
thick skin membraned
dura mater cores; my heart,
lining a sweaty forehead
forced to furrow,
contemplating
Life.
Living in moments
loving every minute,
letting you in
under my skin — layers,
melting my ice.
Chronos knows what the past leaves behind; betrayal,
the dying dreams of
Aeon’s infinite chaos.
Is it worth the gamble?
It’s taking a while to penetrate
the concept of love,
but witnessing miracles
every single day since
you graced my presence.
From that very first night,
I knew there was something
omnipresent between us
and I’m learning to trust.
© Copyright 2021, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
Companionship
True companionship
Comes from creating what you want
Creating the environment
Letting each other go
To see if we keep coming back
Home to freedom
Home to peace
Home to love
Home to our selves
Away into chaos
A way into the darkness
To find the light
The joy
The unknown
And live a fulfilling life.
So Tied Up – Cold War Kids & Bishop Briggs
© Copyright 2021, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
You don’t get to my age
Without learning a thing or two
I’ve learned to trust no one
But myself
I’m not about to risk everything
On blind faith, alone.
You think you’ve been burned?
You’re not the only one.
Do you think I haven’t been there?
Because I have, and it didn’t end well.
You think your trust is broken?
You have no idea about my life.
I’m not about to risk it all, again
When your cards are not on the table.
I am an aging woman, in a man’s world
Willing to show you who I am
To a point. The rest is up to you.
I am a partner, not a trophy
An equal, not a mistress
Older, wise, psychic and astute.
I am here now because I trusted
More than once, twice too many.
Don’t you dare tell me I have broken your trust!
When I’m the only one who is here for you.
I am still here, waiting for you
To stop cutting off your nose
Yet you expect me to trust you
Your word, your honour, your faith?
That only goes so far
Actions speak much louder than words ever will.
You have no idea how much I gave
Am willing to give, how much I have
To bring to your table —
Treat you like the King you are
But I don’t have first world choices
And I don’t want third world realities
Everything I do, is to survive
Calculating risks, hedging my bets
I don’t have to be dishonourable to do it.
I can see well enough when I look.
What I saw, was not what I wanted to see.
You, your tells betrayed you.
Nothing more, nothing less.
You are not willing or able to see me
Yet, but you will.
The best five months of your life
Is compared to borderline personalities from your past
And those voices set you up to fail.
Still, you choose to see only what you expect to see in me.
I am not here to play games.
I chose to be with you because it felt good
But you are uncomfortable with good.
You don’t know yourself as well as you think.
You are not me.
I am holistically unique and
Cruelty is not my style.
I don’t kick the dog when he’s down,
I take responsibility for my part
You will not humble yourself enough to bare.
I have not abandoned you
You pushed me away, again.
I see you for what you are
Right here, right now a mirror.
I can roll with you quite content
But I keep her on a leash
(You know exactly what I’m talking about)
Because I sense something isn’t true.
The difference is I feel,
I express and I talk to you about it.
I asked you to meet my darkness,
You left me.
I process my thoughts and feelings raw,
I know no other way
To show you what I’m willing to risk
Of myself for you.
You lie, because you think it protects me,
I call it as I see it.
I saw.
You will never know who I am
Until you see yourself through my eyes and feel.
If you actually love me
You’d show it when shit gets real
By being kinder, softer
Compassionate and loving.
I don’t need your help
to take out the rubbish.
You discarded me
Because I called bullshit.
Does that mean I was right?
Prove me wrong.
© Copyright 2021, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
Worry, picking apart my brain, forms tentacles & infiltrates the darkness demolishing barriers discarding all sense of reason.
Fear, prys open the latch & pokes it’s ugly noggin out amongst folded loops, sensing freedom & an opportunity to breed.
I recoil; form more sunken chests & box in my indignation, push it back down subterranean & throw away the key.
I threaten to rip the legs off my giant colossal squid if she doesn’t do as she’s told!
My kraken nemesis.
That self entitled bitch, sticks her beak in where it doesn’t belong!
I square off, walk the grid like an executioner plans strategy & make the first move.
I am flawed. No better than humanity subdues & ignites.
I feel ashamed
I feel ashamed
I feel ashamed
Finding my place, my people & my self taking an age to surface.
I can’t make head or tails of it.
I float, drift around in the ether, neither up or down — threads like silk ferry me away. Is this what it’s like to crack?
Psychicly split down the middle.
One half tending the earth, grows old gracefully, wears away the lines to paint a picture. The other chips away at my sanity like a termite.
She is mad. A lost cause. A first world problem searching for a third world solution, juxtaposes sense.
I don’t know if I’m any good at treading water. She’s drowning.
I think I’m gonna crack.
Who is there for me?
© Copyright 2021, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
Isolation
Lonliness
Altruistic tendencies.
A real man looks after his woman.
Builds up hope
Says all the right things
Means what he says
Does what he means.
Love.
Means nothing if it’s bullshit.
Is he going to break me?
Is he breaking me?
Old habits?
Does he want me to leave?
Could I leave?
Would I keep coming back?
Hurting me
Being hurt
Loving you
Being loved.
What is magic?
Where do I belong?
Destiny.
Who is there for me?
Who is there for you?
How long do I wait for what exactly –
Love, security, money, both?
Hibernation.
Am I discarded?
Be like water.
Do I belong here yet?
A limbo suffragette.
A caregiver.
Am I just a caregiver?
He doesn’t want me for that.
What does he want me for?
Companionship.
Am I expected to be faithful?
Am I enough?
Convenience
A means to an end?
I’m not sure what he wants.
Friendship.
Am I on the market?
I’m not sure I’m available.
Marriage.
Will I accept the contract?
Do I really belong here?
I want a partner.
He needs a wife
Wants a legacy.
More children?
Hanging by a thread
Dangling on a ledge.
Friend, enemy, lover, acquaintance.
Loving.
Leaving?
Family, security
Money, happiness
Asking for nothing
Expecting something.
Dignity.
Respect.
Honour.
Am I worthy?
Is he worth it?
Will he build me up?
Bring me down?
Take me on?
Walk away?
Why does he want me?
What did he get?
What am I taking?
What did I get?
What is he taking?
Just roll with it.
Wait for nothing.
Be grateful for everything.
The Devils’ going to make me rich.
I don’t have to worry.
We’re all in it for something.
Yet you offer me everything & nothing.
I just want to love and be loved.
© Copyright 2021, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
The best thing
since sliced bread
this partnership / relationship.
Two whole slabs of
canna-buttered magic,
set the scene for
an esoteric mind fuck that
wrecks our bed,
churns what the water gave us
into fountains of esctasy.
You’ve ruined me.
Turned my counterparts
into full beam,
full steam ahead
where I don’t want to hide. Hiccups
where opposing forces
try to fuck with our chi,
set us back a step or two
but we bounce, roll & resolve. Easy
to give up — walk away,
put grandiose expectations down
to paranoid delusions of grandeur.
Our past lives set us up
to fail, prove that point
we once knew without a shadow.
Done with kowtow!
Fire; vibrating nuclear fission
fuels my frequency, propels
inertia from the fulcrum,
devouring adversity like a black hole
creates nothing out of something.
I make peace my lover, pray
to my Godhead & surrender
my self to you & only you.
My happy bubble
blessed by a big God
blessed by a bigger Goddess,
stirring up a pagan concoction
that’s good enough for royalty.
Good enough, is good enough!
You are my equal.
I will fight to the death
to hold on to you, knowing
I need to let go
ride the lightening
set the Phoenix alight into freedom
before the day is done.
You’re big, blue & beautiful
my whole world right here, now
centred in my universe
Florence & the Machine
creating an atmosphere for us
to breathe.
© Copyright 2020, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
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
I don’t want to go to Church;
Have to kneel for a scrap of bread,
Have to beg for forgiveness,
Have to swallow an empty vessel for a measly sip of port wine.
All of it, on my divine time —
For a bullet with my name on it.
I don’t want to be told what to do;
When I am deemed worthy enough for you.
Where I can live, when you decide
Who I can be with, if it suits them.
What I can wear, to show off my hour-glass figure & classic class.
How I earn my pittance pay & not be dependent on you for anything —
That doesn’t meet with family approval.
I don’t want to live this way;
Waiting for a skin & bitch bone
Salivating over moldy morsels
Wagging my mangy tail,
Waiting for that prayer of approval.
I am of Mary Magdalene.
The Patron Saint of Prostitutes
The red right hand of Jesus —
His only true partner in crime.
I am a Goddess in my own right
& I deserve to be equal, besides
I don’t take kindly to being manipulated by Romans or Benedictine
Monks, attempting to make meals on wheels look A La Carte.
Men who would starve a loved one, & feed a stranger, if it meant they were a step closer to the light.
Attonement casts an evil shadow —
Double standards rape & pillage your family values & family members drop like flies amongst the lies.
/
Heart’s bleed out through cathedrals & stained glass window’s, while you profess your love in gypsy spades.
You piss all over me like a stinking leper!
You, who would decide if I live or die!
Let those who cast the first stone wallow in self pity because I turn my back.
I walk away from you & yours, my bright future fading into despair like the grandiose mirage that it was.
All of it, on your terms.
You would discard me in a heartbeat.
Your entitlement precedes your entourage of everything & nothing,
Where you would set limits on love to the detriment of your own broken heart.
So be it!
These are all moot points in the grand master plan anyway.
The great scheme of things to come, comes at a much greater cost & one I can live without.
© Copyright 2020, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
Let the water take us down
Sinking in
Under your skin
Amongst the blood & bone
Psyche,
Cocooned in the marrow & stem
Cells honeycomb;
A brittle, fragile hokey-pokey helix
Bittersweet & delicious.
To where the river runs red
Hades, scries a foothold & clings
To the matrices of you & I
Of our past lives & love.
Psyche, licking her lips
Offers herself to him
Desire sinks her teeth in
Biting off more than she can chew
& feeds on the canker & stench
Of death.
Let the water take us down
Hades, warming Psyche to ember
Psyche, tempering Hades to surrender
& all the essence of my being
Is holding space for you.
To wash us both clean
© Copyright 2020, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
I’m only as good as my last poem, and that sucked a kumara.
So, why do I care what some hua thinks about me?
I’d rather kia kaha and hīkoi tóku mahi.
To stand strong and walk the talk.
It is what it is.
Ka kité ano apopo kurī.
© Copyright 2020, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
I’m not that kind of girl.
I am that kind of girl.
I can separate work and love.
I can’t separate work and love.
I know what I want.
I don’t know what I want.
Laughter and light.
Sadness and dark.
I don’t like one night stands.
I could like one night stands.
My heart is not for sale.
My heart is open for business.
I’m not a fuck buddy.
I could be a fuck buddy.
I am so much more.
I am all there is.
I want to be number one.
I don’t want to mean that much.
So I can learn to trust.
So I will never learn.
I don’t want to be second best.
I want to be what you want me to be.
I am worthy of love.
I am unworthy of love.
I want to be desired.
I don’t want to be desired.
I am a loving woman.
I am incapable of love.
I’m not an after-hours opportunity.
I am open all hours.
My time is precious.
My time is wasted.
I want to feel like I belong.
I don’t want to be here.
Not at someone’s beck and call.
On someone’s speed dial.
I’m not available for players.
I am available for everyone.
I have integrity.
I am immoral.
I want a partnership.
I don’t want a relationship.
Equality and compromise.
Selfishness and control.
I don’t want to feel alone.
I feel alone.
With or without.
Without or with.
I want to be independent.
I am co-dependent.
Choose my own lane.
Follow the leader.
I don’t want to settle.
I settle for much less.
When I deserve the best.
I don’t deserve any better.
I want to feel secure.
I feel trapped.
Relax and unwind.
Wound up like a spring.
I’m not someone’s distraction.
I am someone’s excuse.
Present not present.
Affect not effect.
I want to be happy.
I don’t want to feel good.
Spontaneously combust.
Slowly decay.
I don’t want to cry.
I want to smile.
No more tears for fears.
Lots of laughs and hope.
I want to be loved.
I am unloveable.
Expand my horizon.
Stay locked away.
I don’t want to be used.
I am a user.
I want a place to call ours.
I like my own space.
I can’t change who I am.
I could change if I wanted to.
I want it all.
I don’t want anything.
I am the kind of girl you take home.
I’m not the kind of girl you take home.
© Copyright 2020, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
You’re dead to me. I’m dead.
My mother with her snide, jealous perversion sticking her tongue down my husband’s throat.
Sick cunt
Shit cunt
My mother’s a fucked up, narcissistic shit cunt
and I’m a whore.
© Copyright 2020, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler. All rights reserved
She fell for him.
She learned to feel ashamed.
Feelings; the dirty word for love, left her sitting in the dark on my balcony, stubbed out like a cigarette butt.
He had to go.
He learned to feel afraid.
Feelings; the Venus Flytrap of love, left him closing the door to my apartment, shut down like a stubborn ass mule.
Still.
Denial stole like a thief.
Feelings; think it would be easier to maintain a smile, but neither of them like bullshit or manipulation or lies.
…and I was starting to feel unencumbered until you came along, upping the anti with your sweet smile, ruining my bed, creating an arrhythmia of anomalies in my insulated penthouse.
…and I can see the headlights up ahead in the distance – high beams dip, then cut a trail through the darkness mimicking my lashes for you.
…and I think I’m ready? I think not, decide to ease back on the throttle; engine brake scream rebounding somewhere around midnight.
…and he says he’s not sure, but he wants to be King of the Mountain, the first to reach the top like Brock but without the fanfare.
…and his heart is in her hands. Headphones tapping out instructions driving himself around the bend while I wrestle with red eye and a juxtaposed stick/column shift.
…and we both get what we want. Safety nets and a pit crew who know the ropes better than any nightmare script or Greg Murphy wannabe.
…and all at once I become redundant. I can no longer see the warning signs and cats eyes through my windshield, except for tail lights.
…and you are leaving me behind. It’s time to open the windows and turn up Green Day and contemplate the waiting unknown. “Rage and love, the story of my life”.
© Copyright 2020, Poetry Out West, Jodine Derena Butler Files. All rights reserved
Green Day ‘Are We The Waiting’ YouTube
