I Wish

‘Newborn Nightmare’ by Photographer Wojceich Zwolinski – Cambion Art

I wish you could see me but more crucial that you could see yourself

I loved you more than anyone but you gave me nothing to hold on to

or stop making nonsense some sort of sabotage

pandering to your paranoia – I preferred your sweet smile

remembering laughter when you really meant it

everything on our own terms not needing anyone or anything

your eyes meeting mine discarded clothes strewn about the place

you are all I see, nothings changed; my heart is still beating for you 

wishing we were naked in our secret place, playing

with each others present tense, feeling everything we’ve lost

so we can find love again. I wish I could be happy in the madness

doing all the things you wanted me to

this something is not what I want no matter how much I keep thinking

you are everything and more because I could never love another and look past

history is so different this time, I can’t let you go when that first kiss was love

I am breaking down in my darkness my world running after my memory of you

I wish you would pick me up and cradle me in your warm arms because I’m so tired 

let those thoughts go from my mouth; taste your beautiful lips

I want to take it all wrap myself around and breathe you in

I dont want to waste a minute wasting time waiting for you to rise

I wish you would walk away from those liars and tell me you love me

time wondering if it’s too late watching everyone take a deep breath

I wish I never met you but I want to see you one last night

you and all your misbehaving hoping it’s alright – but it won’t be

there is nothing worse than watching a man with his demons

and love die

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

Tender

She Sells Sanctuary

image

Photographer/stylist: Ra Kai

It’s quiet outside.

her ears adjust, vicariously
searching out cracks/
a radar mind

finding edges where paths
begin & end
& life circles.

inside her four walls
escape & sigh breath
carbon dated memory

each time reflected upon
once/ a crudely stirred softly shaken sonic echo

a lawnmower cuts
more than
the grass/

in between two or more spaces
she chooses
to wipe away the years

sealed red letters/
sifted thoughts more like
ocean liners

her past full
of Pomegranate blossom
seed

she sells her sanctuary
in blocks/
cubed quarters

organised delivery
ensures a safe return
of a very sure thing?

but not now
there is nothing left to steal.
she sells her sanctuary

from her living room
& chooses life
letting go

/

his miniature shoulders
resemble an old man
Led Zeppelin

his sticks are bundled/
all he can see
is the highway

© Copyright 2010 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Mother Natures Siren Song

a cold front over
night over
cast skies

ushers in
much needed
rain caught breath

Swallow Hollow Road
the Appalachians
followed

where I found
Mother Natures
siren song irresistible

/

tough Winter months
out of season
tempered;

farmers
make hay
while the sun shines

drought stricken pastures
threaten exposed
beams

general
stores fall victim
to the March of time

the old farmhouse stands
abandoned; creaks
decay

E-tsi
E-ho-li re-claims
back-broken ground

/

young people leave
the older folks
behind

inside
green towers
concrete pockets – split

/

driving down the back roads
his breath is taken
away;

toughness
and determination
of early settler caravans

rugged mountain terrain
today, sky city
frontier’s

new calls
of the wild wind
temporarily finding view

voices echo through the trees
whispering memories
lingering in the past

© Copyright 2010 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Inspired by the article  The March of Time by Chip ‘Rocketman’ Allen

Family

Christmas with family at lunch.  loved
ones in spirit present. noticeable
some of us not our usual selves. all of us
a couple of weeks and months ago
father, mother, uncle, aunt, cousin
brother, sister, husband, wife, lovers.

love is in the air with a sombre undertone
changing and evolving.  stronger
softer holding on
our spirit’s enquiring gently.  hearts
like cedar louvres
blissfully breathing
lots of hugs and kisses
lots of smiles.

bull mastiffs lap attention unknowingly
giving of themselves.  more
a small child asks for help to go wee’s
as children do.  nona
chuckling as she leads her by the hand.

teenagers frolicking in the pool.  glorious
unfettered minds and bodies celebrating
organic feijoa wine freshly squeezed it seemed.  ripe
the sun in all of us.

pockets of people mingling.  glasses
raised and table laden.  giving thanks
quietly un-quiet mouths, eyes ,ears, skin
and something else.  savouring
sustaining the living and life.  gone
but not forgotten.

© 2008 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Carpenters Tale

My memory recalls
a time in the sunshine
at Christmas
those many years ago –
running and firing
the pistol drenched
us in tears
it was yellow
and red
like the times I bleed
like the time before that time
I thought I was dying
you remember laughter?
it comes and goes now
like a nervous leaf in Autumn
long after Summer
on the horizon
in the blue ute
down Tamaki Drive;
music loud
me singing a heart
shaped note in tune
I hoped
you’re bright Red tool
box taking pride
of place in the back seat
may as well.
You fell over me
warning you alarm bells
would soon wake you
for work
remember?

© Copyright 2008 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Hearts & Minds (Insomnia Series)

autonomic irregularities skip
& flutter in awkward abeyance
of the heart.

conflicts of reason. para-
sympathetic meltdown’s.
expose flawed synaptic gaps.

conjoined minds, like wind chimes
this night. a metallic taste
signalling rain. a flood of memories

like elephants. unwilling to bend
divided now, patronisation
mindful of Godhead & self.

armed & dangerous
hormones the rag. emotional deprivation is ironic, lonely

a contradiction in terms;
cut off flowers in one room apartments,
sensory overload. hung drawn & quartered.

acceptance is no love lost. self
respect is also learned behaviour. I am myself, in all of her.

mobile phones out of range,
search for meaning & purpose.
meaning & purpose.

meaning & purpose.
hearts & minds they say,
fade away

© 2009 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

I Found My Heart

 

I found my heart
on the borderline
of too late
just in time;
a fine lined
delicate box
inlaid with
criss-crossed
tongue and groove
timber framed
and paper thin –
(such was the state it was in)
I found my heart
shaped box
tucked away
under the debris;
no recognition
of her guild
thick-skin scarred
tiny cracks
intricate and interlaced
weather worn
like washed up
driftwood
I found my heart
a mantle piece
and set it
alongside a glass
vase filled
with floral Oriental’s
her lip sealed
tightly shut
innocence and sin
full trust
representative of love
anaesthetized by pain
I found my heart
magnified by you
and your telescope
my vision opaque
like liquid amber
in silver teardrop earrings;
in remembrance of
friendships once
lost to train wrecks
a heart shaped
box filled with
precious memories
is where I found my heart
in all her glory –
thinking of you

© Copyright 2009 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

First Published, Live Lines, volume 4, Anthology, 2011,  ISBN: 11787767, Poetry Live, http://www.poetrylive.co.nz/live-lines.html

Lying in the sun thinking of you

feeling the sun on my face

turned upward to meet your gaze

those furrowed lines like carvings

splitting rivers of skin further apart now

a permanent marker

I notice you; you’re living lines, played out on my page

rays pierce my canvas of you seeking solace

closing my eyes I forget about how it was

© Copyright 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

Dogs At My Door (Redlight Series)

image

Lovers of pain and comfort, unconditional
with puppy dog eyes wide shut
Head on my stomach fur coat attired
foetal and like old things, worn
Moments and memories dispensed
a hairs breath between prickles
and whiskers tease
rubbing the shredded skin of dissociation
Thoughts escape, awakened
stirred and panting
Playful ball sports and eyebrows raise
sniffing familiarity
Belly rubs and legs splayed
assuming the mould from in behind, the scene
anticipation hungry for food
Dependence in exchange for love
money in exchange for lust
No flea’s here, no blood,
no life-sucking thoughts here
Gods comfort wrap fur-lined with licky tongue
slobbering kisses of conversation
Done and dusted.

© 2007 Jodine Derena Butler. All Rights Reserved
First Published in Side Stream, Issue 7, August 2007, “Poetry From The Fringe”
http://www.myspace.com/sidestreampoetry