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

Anything but the Girl

‘For her I shine’ by Daniel McLeod Photography

He came over today, the sexy fucker! It would have been nanoseconds if I had my way; his rooster waking me up at some ungodly hour, unlike the one next door that miraculously disappeared overnight 

He’s surrounded by chicks with dicks for the most part & I love playing the diva swanning about in my skanky pants, proudly wearing my Madge of Honour

It’s only when I’m feeling omnipotent I become envious, allowing my Goddess to flaunt her divine masculinity strapped to her inner thighs, milking you for whatever it’s worth in my dreams

I think it’s only fair you get what you deserve, my milkshakes had all the boys in the yard, now she wants savoury pineapple smoothies sliding down around her knees, spitting seeds

So much for demure! I want lust & primal screams awakening my thwarted inner peace, transcendental om’s on my lips & you lost in oblivion

I’m a saucy bitch, quick witted enough to slap you down with a wildwoman grin, your eyes never waivering, once I bring you to life looking up from under lashes

You’re a sexy fucker & I love you more for being tied up in knots I need & stretch with ease, my magic hands working with pleasure

My demons are in awe of your presence; silenced except for my desire, stirring up more than delayed gratification

I want you to fuck me up more than anything! bring her down to your level, where I am anything but afraid & anything but the girl

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

Partner

Imploding Stars

It’s back
I’m shaking like a leaf
More trauma

It’s a normal natural response
So I’m told
Under these circumstances

I see very clearly
We have different strengths
But strengths we do have in abundance

Meeting in the middle
The two of us working together
Dialogue & adult discussion

Trauma is everywhere
Leaching into every cell
All of us – imploding stars

*

She is such an Angel
Beautiful in all her innocent glory
Loving & gentle

I rock her in my arms
I pat her back in rhythm
She relaxes, falling asleep

She is loved by all of us
To our core, that weeps
In our hearts, that bleed

I pray, pleading for guidance
My faith is in your hands
I am your servant

Love is love
There is no in-between
Just understanding & surrender

© Copyright 2015, Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Cold Comfort

I’m going slightly insane
Oh, to be deaf, dumb, blind & mute!
turning that blind eye, having nothing
more to do with it – all

No shoes on her feet
her hair a mess
the first thing she says is,
“Are you a mean stepmother or a nice stepmother?”
cuddling me, she tells me I’m nice before I can answer, awed
saddened & proud
all at once

I’m so afraid for our little girl
afraid to bear witness; joy, pain, confusion, innocence
I do my best, continuing to be consistent,
loving, nurturing & hiding
my own pain to shelter her

I need time out
not from our littlest princess, never
from that bright spark that lights up my world, my own fear worse for wear
knowing truth; being called a liar
cruelty appears nonchalant & we all know
ignorance breeds ignorance

I rise
above this time & detach
from that confined space lodging
deep in my brain & heart, threatening
to expose my GI Jane

She thrashes inside her prison cell,
the bars of my prison bend
but do not break, I give thanks
to God & Godesses & the Furies,
my Crone; for temperance
my aenima inanimate for the moment

,●

I hear her laugh,
that contagious giggle
putting a smile on my face
all I need is patience; I can wait
Karma has not yet spoken, giving
cold comfort will come at a cost – all
I can do is love

© Copyright 2015, Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

God is Love

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

Rheumatic Stigmata

The bed creaks like your bones
that moan and groan
that slow grind through clenched teeth,
that need between the sheets

~

It’s August now
as cold as it gets here in Winter.
I’m buying an electric blanket
to warm you through; least I run you through
with my lasciviously pointy finger!

Still, I wrap my legs
around your freezing appendages,
making a spoonful of sugar
while you lick the cream
from your Cheshire 😀

I can’t help but bear your stubborn,
stoic Far North Queenslander pride;
pleasured simplicity, complicit
with your Will to burn the wick
at both ends, ajoint screaming
a string of profanity

In Summer, I knead
your splintered lamb shank
while you shovel nutrition down
with a tincture of mindfullness,
layer upon layer of oil, and Green Tea
setting the scene for a modern beer

I find it hard, to watch your tenacity
come face to face with Dachau – Grim
barking out his contempt
while she ducks for cover in sewage…

We have to make the trip worthwhile
or its all for naught; she signs a cross
Pope John Paul II raised the host
because he had all the respect in the world

for Mary.  Sometimes I wonder
what will become of our inheritance
if the light at the end of the tunnel
really is another oncoming train?

We have to find a way through
our fragile past lives where we would
seethe on the outside and cower on the in,
if it weren’t for temperance; sharp edges constrained by blunt force trauma

In the meantime, I heat the purple wheat bag in the microwave
laying it carefully between the sheets

You know I love you most when you least expect it

© Copyright 2015, Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

RE BLOGGED on Dream Big Dream Often

Fringe Factor

I am on the fringe
my destiny intertwined
money & lust
existence
paving a way for my future

I am loved
unconditionally.

he doesn’t presume
to try to control me
directly
indirectly I don’t know –
sometimes I feel bereft;
a single cell amoeba
searching
for another sign
of life

solitude
my friend & my enemy
co-exist;
uncertainty
at every new juncture
jeers in contempt
I am frozen in fear
for falling
& failing
humiliation burning
into my face
to spite me

ungracious
in pursuit of happiness
I take no prisoners
perhaps my journey
is my destination?
isolation & separation
inextricably linked,
pseudo relationships
taking precedence

lonely street’s
with or without corners
smoothing my transition

in the distance,
no picket fence to define me
or winter garden
or fire escape

I digress, sadly.
inner sanctum’s
flawed by design
serve only to mimic my life

contentment
knows no bounds

© Copyright 2012, Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Monogamy is a Death Trap

My love
is in a constant state of flux:

she is a free spirit
as naked as she is coy

& shy beyond reason
her senses betray her

ever-widening polyamorous circle
of ‘friends with benefits’

today, I languish in the arms of those
who, in the privacy of their shared

experience/existence
profess to asexual tendencies

off & on

a pair of comfortable shoes
is the next best thing

to the proverbial
wet patch

she cloaks herself
in makeshift aroma & powdered illusions

power & control
wanting & needing

pushing & pulling
to feel simply unencumbered

monogamy is a death trap
says the muse

my love is everywhere
I want it to be

© Copyright 2010 Jodine Derena Butler. All Rights Reserved

Simplify

Me My Mother

My mother taught me how to love
my love

My mother taught me when to cry
my tenderness

My mother taught me what to feel
my teacher

My mother taught me how to lie
my lover

Me my mother knows the truth
show me how to feel

Me my mother feels her pain
that I may feel your love

Me my mother’s afraid to feel
in it’s entirety

Me my mother’s hard to heal
in it’s glory

My mother says ‘don’t cry, you look guilty’
in it’s hunger

My mother thinks I should be thankful for what I’ve got
and sadness

My mother shows it’s ungrateful to want happiness
that I may weep with you

My mother means ‘don’t rock the boat’
and laugh

Me my mother question right and wrong
with honest love

Me my mother try to get along
stir my heart

Me my mother doesn’t know what makes her happy
my softness there

Me my mother is seen as sassy
like your sweet caresses

My mothers life’s a duty
hold my head within your arms

My mothers heart is hard
and whisper your emotion

My mothers tongue is dirty
tenderness envelopes me

My mother is a farce
and I feel

I feel

I feel

I feel

warm with you

© Copyright 2007 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Music and Computer’s

Feijoa wine
music and computer’s don’t mix
with wine.  this time
mattress and duvet
pillow from home;
missing him.

love

Scrumpy cider on the side
love hearts
passed down mother to son.
separate rooms
miles away
alien frustration amplified

music

flat on demand
microphone silent
no time like tomorrow
be still

© 2009 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Unprotected

1.
Love is truly blind.
The disparity between conditional
and unconditional love –
and the lack of understanding for either,
peels back the layers of my heaving chest

2.
Silence is punishment.
Feelings and wounds left unsaid, fester
their very existence is denied.
Children birthed from pleasure and pain
turn their back and forget where life began –
throwing their toys at the indignity of it all.

3.
The sound of silence is deafening.
Vengeful breakers crash on my shoreline –
forcibly taking back what was un-given.
I am being stripped down to bare bones
my flesh eroding
my bleeding heart displaced

I let it all wash over me
but I am not mechanical.
My soul out-pours frequently drained
every orifice is like a tidal wave of emotion
ripping through and of me
till I am nothing more than driftwood

4.
My world is full of strangers.
Loved ones who don’t know the meaning of love.
I feel unprotected.
My fingernails are raw and bloody
for clinging tooth and nail
holding on for dear life and limb

5.
My heart has the unfortunate tendency to feel.
I am reminded constantly that I fail
repeatedly
my life can be described as heartbreaking at best
and devoid at worst
there is no in-between

When protection is taken for granted
and I am gutted,
every fibre of my being recoils and retreats.
She tells me to be foetal
and she cradles my broken parts.
She is all that I have left

6.
I am a free bird.
Riding the salted earth and spray.
I am my own gift.
Nothing can touch me except the wind.
He reminds me that I am
alive

© Copyright 2010 Jodine Derena Butler. All Rights Reserved

Edited by Miriam Barr

My Absinthe Heart

I touch the sacred
waters of my
absinthe heart

tender, vulnerable
fingers slip into
pink ambrosia rivers

where liquid flows
languorous, from her
red half-full cup

shaken if not stirred
my pale hands tremble
in her wake, laudanum

where my hearts
drum beats black and blue
I trace a drop

spilling a cocktail
of milk
like my rhythm

my green
absinthe heart
is bruised

© 2009 Jodine Derena Butler. All Rights Reserved

Windows

I remember sneaking out of my bedroom window when I lived with my grandparents for the second time the mescaline cactus was chopped off at the bottom which surprised the wall that held the house up lasting so long over the years  it was an old house but not prickly when the juice drained and my first boyfriend knocked I had to be very quiet except for the old metal blinds that didn’t work and I could hear them talking amongst themselves in the bedroom too  I didn’t think they could hear me then together snuggled under their feather duvet warm as I was soon to be most of the time when nana would bring me a cup of tea in the morning like soup but after she read the tea-leaves so I knew I had to be quiet I remember the house built by his own hands after the war it was farmed and raised by the family at the time the steps are gone now replaced and the house has sunken with age like grandfather buried at the rsa with nana soon when the results come back outside the window I remember climbing back in easier than outward appearances and a lot quieter than at night with the still crisp morning light over before it had begun again ahead of its time at breakfast with sweet leaf toast I was fifteen and I liked danger when the grass was much sweeter than the mescaline and the sex of two young lovers defying gravity on the window ledge of lust giggling and groping for the branches scraping the side of the house beside the hole giggling because I might catch the altered perspective and succeed with silence impossible with the teapot pouring I remember the pink bedspread sneaking into something paling by comparison more like crimson and stained like the window he once said to me but could not decide what it was about when the window slammed shut and I was angry for a moment  the front door was easier than tiptoes being bruised seeming to yellow past the bedroom door and the feathers were warm and soft cocooning them in embraces when I smiled I could hear their listening thoughts I remember the days when chairs sat in reclining positions side by side rocking by the fire looking out onto the front window like a doorway a much bigger window than mine was wiser than the cactus planted on the side of the road in season the windows were necessary to see into the future and the night and the teapot arrived as expected when I sat up in bed…

© 2007 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved