Mr Midas & the Leviathan

Mr Midas and the Leviathan may as well be a mated pair.

One digs for gold, the other steals it and calls it Justice,

Both rape and pillage Midgard as if it was a birth right.

Midas mining minds while Leviathan’s whirlpool lines his stomach —

Ache, and the Ouroboros snake finally bites off its own head in the process.

Humanity is left behind in husks; dunes of cicada shell

Sahara sand, and so begins the thirteenth day of the thirteenth month of the

Thirteenth year of the thirteenth millennium and the Age of Aquarius.

After two chiliads of the Age of Men, spiritual destruction’s time is up.

Dark magicians and light worker’s square up, stand off with David, Sion, Zion

Call it what you will; bellicose savage servants broker deals between the two,

Lining their own pockets, pilfering ideas from enlightenment.

Righteous hamartia saving itself from Ickeman’s ilk, another canard crime.

The war has only just begun but the Holy Grail remains buried in Nadir

Beneath the ancient alcoves of the Vatican, guarded by Moloch and Baal in

Hidden chambers — dead sea scrolls, Enoch and Krystal Consciousness.

And women, judged unworthy of this love by sadistic vampires in clan colours,

And children, initiate sacrifices defiled to pierce through the Unholy Veil.

Loving humanity never included those wretches deemed unworthy by demons,

Those poor lost souls Jesus once tried to save, slaves

Midas and Leviathan are nothing more than lip servants who gut like fishermen!

We now need neoteric Warriors of God to smite, in the name of true divinity.

I’ve waited an age for Michael to raise the ghost and be done with it.

∆

In The Name Of Yeshua, Hallowed Be Thy Name

Thy Kingdom Come And Thy Will Be Done On Earth, As It Is In Heaven

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread And Forgive Us Our Trespasses

As We Forgive Those Who Trespass Against Us

Lead Us Not Into Temptation But Deliver Us From Evil

For Thine Is The Kingdom, The Power And The Glory

Forever And Ever

Amen.

© Copyright 2023, Jodine Derena Butler. ‘Poetry Out West’, All Rights Reserved

Lovers Lament

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

Skin & Bitch Bone

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.

Hozier- Take Me To Church

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

Balkan Beauty

Phil by Fuzion Photography, Cairns 2017

“An admiration she wouldn’t normally entertain… if he were only a passing stranger”. JD Butler

Lady Jane is in love

with Ashcat.

His strong silhouette slipping in and out of her

periphery, and her

ebony arches rise.

Ashcat, oblivious to her wicked wanton imagination, carries on his distraction,

impervious.

She murders a bottle of Brut in anticipation, while he continues to sway his hips like Arrow – taking no prisoners.

Lady Jane marvels at his beauty.

An admiration she wouldn’t normally entertain (appearing crudely shallow), if he were only a passing stranger.

Warmth, is magnified by his dark Balkan eyes shrouded in long, thick lashes – he is her lover.

He wears Jesus sandals, long sunbleached salt and pepper hair, a ponytail and a sculptured beard adorns his shirtless chest, complimenting his oh-so-sexy charisma.

Oozing like Fat Boy Slim, Craig Charles or Ronnie Size and the like,

he dances in joyous rapture, while gratitude tango’s a discourse; Shakespearean words leading Lady Jane into

break-dancing lines and sonnets.

Drawn to the outline of his magnificent manhood – her eyes,

widen

remembering that first feast of flesh under a cascading moonlit pool. His six foot one

stature conjuring lust and erotic embolisms.

Ashcat is her lush and she is his Lady Jane.

Gin and tonic martini’s mix into multiples of mischievous smiles, Mt Uncle

botanicals tittilating both of their senses.

*

Lady Jane snaps back to reality and uncrosses her legs,

flashing glimpses of her petite ankles in the pantomime.
© Copyright 2018, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

Blink

There is Nothing Special about Mary

Photographer: Judith Bender-Jura

1.

Mary, the one without
a Halo – a married whore,
found unconditional love
hiding in the soles of His feet.

After the fact – that
pseudo relationships
took precedence for a while,
she washed Him clean

for no other reason
than to show respect, reverence
for one that would give
His soul for her.

2.

My feet are bare, scarred
by broken beer bottles and red
blood paint – tips to toes,
manicured to perfection once

upon a time. his feet
are cold; numbness held in a vice –
like grip, as she works her way up
past calves & quads seeking

warmth in the apex, comfort
sucking a thumb – print. embedded
ecstasy applying pressure
where it hurts, to ease the pain.

3.

She thinks the sun shines outback, cradling his head, healing hands
mindful of circular breathing; muscles
& tendons ache for release.

Mary doesn’t mind manipulating
bones, fingering the spaces
in – between, redirecting blood flow
to all the right places, kneading

stretches & burns ping – back,
sending signals like sparks, endorphins
take up the slack, ushering in sweet
sensation & nipples peek. there’s

nothing special about Mary, knowing
a thing or two, making money serving
more than a hand – full of life’s little pleasures. making hay while the sun

shines requires little effort on her part,
preferring to let it slide, up past
the point of no return. those days,
over now before they really took hold.

4.

Mary looks at him spent, kinesthetic
energy on standby as he reconsiders
where he stands. the party’s over,
someone has to clean up, Mary

learning to love the hand
that feeds her, wishing sometimes
for independence and silence, in –
between phone calls. those days

are over, up for tender for the next
wave of youthful antagonists who seek
an existence un – beholden. love
knows no rules of engagement.

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

Impression

Abyss

I don’t recognise myself anymore

that fool
that blind stupid fool
whose face lit up and smiled
like Cheshire – following you everywhere

once

/

she saw the sun shine
out of your arse like a fractured halo and dared to love you

it’s gone

and all she can think about
is how to sign off
how to extricate herself
from humiliation; still
that cacophony of cackling voices

the concept of love is as corrupt and meaningless as the world in which we live

/

its not for me
I want out
I don’t want to look
for anything to look
forward to or to be reborn
only to have love fail –
rubbed in my face like spent semen
again and again
spoiled

how can love co-exist anymore than Buddha, Allah, Jesus or Mary?

/

love is blind
and refusal often offends
I want oblivion, finality
one painful life is enough for me

I swallow my insecurities
like my black and white thinking
allowing acid to corrode me from within
turning me upside down
inside out

/

I think about death and dying
like that single stone
that skipped a few beats
before it sank
out of sight
never to be thought of again

there is absolutely nowhere left to go
and I am like a shell of what I once was a hollow husk of withered cells
dying my slow and agonizing death
angry for being so magnificently vulnerable in contemptible
self loathing

and to think that there are those among us who want to live!

I should feel blessed – accept
except everything feels so jaded
burned and extinguished

life just isn’t worth living
sometimes
but I do

I struggle to see the light
shining on me when I am in pain

© Copyright 2015, Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved