Scent

Image

Photographer Veronika Marx – V’s Anchor Studio

The scent of a woman

made from floral Oriental arrangements

imbued sandlewood, tall poppies and heady ambient aura’s

is enough to make me linger – longer than wiser men swoon

tripping over their good fortune, as I sway through the market overflowing with trinkets

glittery things; replaced driftwood, pinecones, seeds and pods

cinnamon sticks and stones

eau de parfum of musk, nascent wafts of earth and wild rain

stay hidden from your touch, designed to draw you in 

and leave you wanting

Scent

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

Yellow

Image

Photographer Renk Renk Resimler

Yellow; traditionally the colour of death

Yellow roses in particular

Yellow, reminds me of my step-daughter

Yellow is also the colour of grief

the colour of cowardice and cowboy’s

jaundice and Nicorette

Lemons leave a bad taste in my mouth

Yellow. Not one of my favourite colours


Yellow

First published on Far North Fiction

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


I Choose 

I choose to remember, you

At your best

Full of smiles, laughter and honest love

Way back when, when I fell head over feet for you

On my balcony

Still remembering how we made love

Anywhere and everywhere

I think about those times, more often than not

Saddened by the depths of despair

That tore us apart

Fighting for our princess and all our hopes and dreams for her, for us

I miss you, your touch, your wanton ways that had me yearning for you, hourly

Do you remember?

Or choose to see me, like all the rest

Another woman whose done you wrong, although I never did

I loved you and we would have had it all, save the trauma and distress

Looking forward to a wonderful life

Even now, I choose to remember you as I knew you then

Plied up to the eyeballs on codeine and Restavits, just so you could sleep

Me, telling you there was a better way, and you cut that big pharma shit – lest Heath had a lend of your good humour

You were running thin and away

I thought you found what you were looking for and I nearly died

Saving myself from you

I long to see your face and look into your beautiful eyes, still

For a brief moment I found love

I hope to think that it wasn’t all for nothing

I wish only the best, despite it all

I forgive you

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


Invitation

Image

Vintras, depicted here celebrating an unorthodox Mass called ‘the Provictimal Sacrifice of Mary’

I don’t need no invitation

I don’t need no gang control

No dark frustration in the clubhouse

Preacher leave those thugs alone

(Bridge)

Hey Preacher!

Leave those thugs alone!

(Chorus)

All in all you’re just a – nother prick in the pall

All in all you’re just a – nother prick in the pall

From the 1920’s Swedish Film ‘Witches’ (Häxan)

Invitation

Pink Floyd – Another Brick in the Wall

First published on Far North Fiction


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


Yoyo

Image

‘Visons’ by Jefferson Muncy Art 


I’m so up and down

nightmares

falling about the place

picking myself up

dreaming

dusting myself off

planning my future

scared

neither here nor there

clearing clutter

turfing rubbish

cleaning

pulling out weeds

rotating my garden

sleeping

up all hours

drinking coffee

high

low

bursting into tears

mowing the lawn

numb

lonely and tired

keeping appointments

shopping

feeding the cats

cuddling the dog

rearranging furniture

another movie

hungry

empty

moving this way and that

taking big chunks out

falling

waking

on a shoestring budget

/

wondering where it all went

wrong

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


<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/clean/">Clean</a>

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

Check Mate

Photographer/Headpiece/Makeup by Andreas Boldt

You went back to the old ways, baby
let those speak for me, on their behalf
poisoning your mind and self
to bring you back home, tethered
to that place you’ve been trying to leave
you let them whisper in your ear,
sweet nothings to woo betrayal,
the only thing you trust
you’ve gone full circle
fear taking what was good for you
over love held in contempt,
lust luring you back again
already screwing you
now they’re trying to screw me
with phone calls, designer texts
intimidation sending me
into undercover, in disbelief
believing you have a hand in thuggery
you were so protective
of me, once family
willing to sell it all to the Devil you know
sending them all away
but they have your head in a vice
that false prophet Halo
surrounding you in darkness; checkmate,
stealing more than just Mary’s soul
you are weak, following
in your fathers footsteps
the one closest to you, the first
learned her place underfoot
her escape futile, her existance
cruel penance for that lost child
proving her guilt
she accepts her fate, now
that’s why she turns a blind eye
allowing your atrocious behaviour
to go unchecked – you raise your voice,
she see’s him in you and resigns
I have fallen by the way
learning to let go of my heart,
my mortality reminds me daily
that I am alone
I look forward to other things, now
bringing fulfillment here,
my father in his Twilight
where I can care for love
without risk, losing it all
the best part – his death
teaching me everything else
I need to know

/

one day, I hope
you sneak back into my bed,
just because you can and
we have an hour or two
to ourselves, like it was before
remembering our smell,
feeling our hearts open
loving each other well, adjusted
until the next time we say goodbye
and life goes on

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

Craving

Image

i’m craving you, today
all those beautiful things about you
that glittered like gold; your face,
literally a ray of fucking sunshine
portending our future
happiness, growing old together

i crave to see your smile, fall
about the place laughing

i look back through photographs,
those ones on the balcony
encapsulating you against a green backdrop
when we were ecstatic, tripping
over our good fortune pleasured to meet,
makes me weep now

i loved you so much it’s unbearable
witnessing our public demise

i chastise my foolishness,
choosing to believe in love – you
i would do anything to turn back time,
start over knowing what we know now
hold on to that part of us
that was true, before

reality ripped me a new one
and i belly flopped into despair

my eyes search for you everywhere,
in my rearview
to steal a glance, catch a glimpse
to see if you remember me, re-ignite
one final psychic spark
awakening those butterfly’s

i don’t want the dawn to sing to me
i long to dream rainbows and fairy floss

instead of axe handles / switch blades
cutting off my head,
dismembering my brain stem
from my heartbeat for you
some days i look for ways i can feel
my fingers frantic

without prying ears interfering
and i ride you into rhythm

doublets, triplets and fours
before i stare transfixed
into the silent night – did you feel anything?
i don’t like this, nastiness unbecoming
it’s not how i want to remember you
but it’s all you’ve ever known

it’s not too late to salvage respect
putting it all down to folly, our hurt

doesn’t need to scar, on par
with adolescent angst
i love all those who have gone before
each finding that special place
lodged in the spaces between
the good, the bad and the ugly

forgive me, for i will in time; make
it all worthwhile

i want you to be happy,
successful and content
please don’t fall back into line
choosing thugs for pittance
you’re worth more than pseudo security
it’s all bullshit, that old way

you are made for enlightenment
not eternal darkness

i still love you the way i remember you
i just don’t believe in the Devil

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

Pan

Image

I could never look
at you the same way
I adored you, once
your true colours have me
in sensory overload
clutching my heaving chest
in shock, disbelief left winded

reeling from the blows
taking such pride

inflicting pain, deliberately
fueling retribution over lack
of supply, shows me I never knew
you – you who would do anything
for me, except love me
finding unjustified reasons
to hurt me

because I don’t abide
I could never trust

the man that revels in pain
his empowerment borne
plotting, scheming manipulations
splitting love in two
my aorta left to bleed
out, powerless –
it makes him feel

like a man
you’re not my man

I was your meal ticket
your way to escape
demons; Dachau passing down
suffering, such a way of life
completely misunderstood
cruel Nazi mentality, heartless
your Mockingbird,

your SS badge of dishonour
worse, using children

an apparatus for torture
where love nurtured trust,
spiritual guidance squandered
on self-serving childhood needs,
your own metered out
shortcomings
love is not yours to ridicule away

denying its abundant existance
I will never trust my heart,

expose her soft underbelly
or offer her up
in sacrafice; like a lamb,
your God is a manmade
fallacy designed to subjugate
misogyny, displaced whores
render Madonna complexes

in perpetual conflict
I am disappointed in you

you had it all, proffered up on a silver platter
wanted for nothing, except coveted jealousy
lusting after sinful greed
you let breed and wreck havoc
Mr Black is a predator, a perpetrator
you let run roughshod over me
I am not the only one, women

your past is predictable by nature
I hope with what’s left,

you learn your lesson well
I wanted a man – a man,
not a spoiled little boy
throwing tantrums to up
the Antichrist in pursuit
of misspent youth,
ungrateful to the core

matters let go out of hand
I am in Hell

sent there to rot in your abandon
but you didn’t bargain on meeting Demeter,
who will hunt you down
to save herself, mourning winter
the long days and sleepless nights,
haunting your nightmares

she, who see’s right through you
will dance on your grave

 

© Copyright 2016, Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Pan

Heart Trick

Image

I miss you

how you were when we fell
over each other’s Cheshire
licking the crème de la crème
from our fingertips,
trusting hoards of butterfly
antennae, sensing under the sheets
or up against the wall
or door, searching for foothold’s
to keep us steady,
while the world burned.

I miss you

your delirious smile
smoldering stare held me
for ransom, taking what was mine in
reckless abandonment
left, existentially speaking
our hemispheres to render unnecessary
for nothing else mattered.
you were my light
my world burned for you – you
set me on fire.

I miss you

everyday my heart breaks,
shattering into shards
splintered like thorns
penetrating my psyche,
where our wedding Rose once bloomed
I sink further
than ever green roots
searching for a wellspring and I
long to love you, remembering
ourselves ecstatic.

I miss you

it hurts too much
to open my self up, invite
you in like Twilight wondering if
demons have you ensnared, tortured
reasons where I cease to exist
beyond anything pale.
I loved you so, adoring everything I love
I can’t help but feel lost without you
wanting to take another leap and plunge,
but it’s too late

*

my heart tricked me
to remind me love died.

Copyright 2016, Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

The Joker

Image

The Joker
plays his cards then prays
for forgiveness
to a middle eastern Christian God
before hurling abuse
to those who aren’t white
professing to love women
secretly harbouring unfathomable hate
suppressed rage
staring Red indifference in the face
of reason, his reason
an excuse for payback; vindictive
retribution designed to maximize
powerfully charged emotional punches.

I have loved more than once
choosing my heart over head
batting eyelids deflecting
eggs scrambling to make sense
of the impossible scenario
time after time questioning
my self refusing to settle for anything
less than truth
watching loved ones turn
roll over, pulling the wool
over already unseeing orbs
holding on to contempt for love
lost

Death has defined me
grief ripping me apart
till I am stripped bare and
‘The Joker’ plays me for a fool
his denial hardly concealed now
his truth defining him in the end
hidden underneath a facade
charm dangerously like a predators
false sense of security
when his hands are tied
his dirty hands
he tries to launder abrasive
repeatedly.

Money
the root of all evil
threatens to ignite the paper trails
that have us entwined
enmeshed together by banks
loans and fine print
our future only leased
the balance drains the half full cup
sentiment caught never to be released
that Holy Grail
proving to be forever out of reach
what chance did we have?
the die has been cast.

My love
my darling
you were my everything
my beautiful sweet illusion
my heart aches for remembering you
how you were before you changed colour
I fell head over feet for you and yours
grazing my knee in the process
I succumbed, numbing my defenses
getting back up being pushed back down
losing another fragment of hope
each time threatening don’t
now, the joke is on you.

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

Visible Woman

Image

image

 

I’m a whore.
A hooker for all
Intents & purposes

I fuck

Men, women or both
If they show me
Respect & pay my fee

How they treat
Me is how I screen;
They peep through key
Holes in my web,
Mobile phone or face
Book

Leave me clues
I peruse at my leisure.

On my unpaid time,
Weeding
Always pulling
Out roots & bare
Back, barking mad
Messages

Cutting into my family!

My family time
Intrigues you & yours –

Watching how we
Balance on that edge,
While I swing my leg
Over, hold on
Tight & tiptoe
Around the giant
Dildo in the room

But we do

Those Bill’s
Just don’t stop coming!

*

I work hard for the money
I work hard for family
I work hard
Pulling my weight where it counts
To make ends meet;
Reconciling differences
Underneath

I bleed red & my shit still
Stinks but that doesn’t make me
Invisible, unless you’re
Anti

Anti this, anti that
Why should it matter
What I do to support my
Self or my family?

I should ram my fist right up
Your arse, to my elbows
(I’d like to – bend you over) &
Piss all over your pride & prejudice!

Your mind is already made up.
Stuck up, to the eyeballs
In condescending lies pandering
To (un) popular beliefs;
Nothing like countering ‘prostitution
Narratives’ in the belly
Of the beast

I am a very tall poppy.
I am not so uneloquently on display
I am not a victim
I am not coerced
I am not a survivor
I am not damaged
I am not suffering any
More than anyone else

I don’t buy into
Negative, stereotypically ignorant
Profit driven victimisation
Either!

I choose to be the
Architect of my own life
Doing my bit,
Arousing your awareness
So that those who are
Tarred with the same brush
Can find support
Not rescue

It’s called autonomy.
Something I have more of than
Some, but you are not one

Tomorrow I’m going to wake up
Turn on my phone
Answer messages
Boil the jug & light up a dart,
Considering all my options
Before heading back in to sex work

It makes me stark raving
Mad, to think you could
Possibly be offended!

*

For what it’s worth,
I feel sorry for you

 

© Copyright 2016, Jodine Derena Butler. ‘Poetry Out West’, All Rights Reserved
Written in protest of the ‘World’s Oldest Oppression’ Conference in Melbourne, Victoria 2016

The Online Protest
Pieces of Meat
Sound of Silencing Sex Workers
Online Pocket Guide to Dealing with Antis

Purple Rain

Image

image

My father, Malcolm Roy Ball, Vietnam 1967-1970

War Torn

our world is being torn apart
I threaten conflicted outbursts
in remembrance of him
and them

*

My great grandfather’s fought in WWI
My grandfather’s in WWII
My father in Vietnam

He protests in his own way
no purple reign on his parade
or Prince
to overshadow
dvd’s re running over blue
and red clashes – violent flashes
of memory
in black and white snapshots
of the fallen
and homeward bound comrades
of Malaya and Singapora

They were shafted
in one way or another
left to ponder life
and death
still

images Napoleon could not reconcile
nor the English continue to suppress

I don’t think he will ever forget.

‘See that guy there?
He had his arm blown off
and that one hung himself
a couple of years ago’

His way of keeping it real
as much as for him
as for us, who are held captive
in his momentum

They were drenched in Orange, Red
and Yellow agents
descendants of a Purple rain
then left to fend for themselves
amidst a wrath and fury
one can only call ignorance
blinded by a politically correct
notion of compassion

They were only nineteen
and nothing compares to youthful
enthusiasm; to be not unlike
their forefathers

Teenagers today
get their psychedelic fix
whining and dining on a scourge
that has become a pandemic –
a demonic frenzy
of self indulgent arrogance!

Mary-Jane makes
a Nightingale of pain

Today is ANZAC Day
I am both proud and sad

I have a legacy to uphold
and if it weren’t for those men
and women who experienced trauma
I would not have known complex PTSD
or to let my mind take me
to a battlefield of my own design

In remembrance of them
and parts of my self
lost forever,
I like the eulogy of
walking in the purple rain

Lest We Forget

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

Prince, Street Art Eulogy

Simplicity

Image

image

Photographer: Unknown

Keep it simple
Stupid
It’s I thirst
Not I’m thirsty

*

I thirst
For simplicity
A life with freedoms
Human rights
Free healthcare
Free education
Freedom of speech
Harming no one
Just to simply be
Happy

I thirst
For life

Without complications
Or baggage
No corruption
No crime
No bikie gangs
Threatening to cut
Off hands for
Fifty thousand dollars
And a slice of pie

I thirst
For life

Searching for peace
Raising children
Content in knowing
I helped to create
A future
For generations
Creating stability
Creating trust
Creating an environment
Upon strong foundations
So they can feel safe
Secure

I thirst
For a life

Of my own making
Having learned
Freedom
Comes at a cost
My grandparents waged
Through wars and depression
Strengthened by knocks
Strengthened by hard work
Strengthened by community
Generosity
No where to be seen
These days

I thirst
For a life

Where I am not afraid
Of living
Loving
Wanting
Needing
At peace
With my aching bones
And weathered skin
Secure
In the knowledge
I have done my best

Then
And only then
I can take my final breath
Knowing
I have quenched
My thirst

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

Morph Feign

Image

image

Artist: Unknown

Morphing into something
Resembling reason

Feigning change; talk
Telling truth, lies heart

Punctured to the core
Bleeding out, spattering

Red, volcanic lava trails
Tearing through my skin.

The cracks, wrinkles
Widening like gulfs;

Rifts of etched nuances.
Cooled down cuts

I still want, telling
Morph Feign

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

Morphing

There is Nothing Special about Mary

Image

image

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 out –
back, 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

Malady Peg

Image

image

Artist: Unknown

You build a picture of me
outside the elongated square –
peg shaped box
I find myself circling

each single step
widens following
two side steps lengthening
nearly five decades deep

before I’m back in the shit
standing in front of the same scale
stained window or solid Oak door
or Samsung S4

my self imposed barricade
chain and key close
to my heart safe, keep
trusting no one

except a chain gang
of miscreants and misfits
mulling over life just right
subliminal messages

only those in the know can
decipher wisdom in code, words
biting off more than we can chew
at times, like these

you help build a picture of me
outside the elongated square –
peg shaped box
I find myself picking apart

with my fingernails, prying
into cracks like an un
suspecting little upstart
who has everything and nothing

we are social creatures
by nature, nurture featuring ways
to stray outside our four walls
where I space out

dependent distance, my avoidance
keeps my heart still beating
any attempt to heal, an affront
my demons wreck havoc

threaten to cut me off at the knee’s
if I don’t conform or dance
to the Pipers tune. my malady
freaks the Hell out of everyone

torture held captive

you are a picture of my self
outside my elongated square –
peg shape box, my reason
to die respectfully

circumnavigating
ways through and around,
bashing my head up
against invisible walls

that thwart my existence
here, questions unanswered
philosophical paradoxical paradigm s;
the meaning of life and death

I want to go home,
listen to the ebb and flow
of waves, seagulls and sand
crunching between my toes

and decide if I want to live.

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

Working through Cobwebs

Image

image

Melbourne Street Art – Artist Unknown
Photographer: Jennifer Cox
Photo used with permission

I’m trying to work through cobwebs, he said,

with eyes pouring like rain
into a leaky boat
squaring off the shoreline
heading out to sea
avoiding Redbacks
like the plague, negotiating
rogue waves
behind his back
facing his fear; ex
tended arms pull
away – escape
for the moment.

he scans the horizon
left to right that sinking
feeling farther, closer
than he expected denial; a river in Egypt
too far away to row
a thunder clap into eternity,
Isis turning a blind eye
Triton dragging him
under, spinning
a vortex only Terra
firma can translate.

taking the bull
by the horns, he finds
solid ground wrestling
Taurus, knee deep
in mud that sticks
like shit on the inside,
cobwebs cling to hard
wired neurons
lodged in the gaps
in – between grey,
a matter for
black and white.

separate, facts find
fiction fornicating
in a web of deceit
by design, too lurid
for children like
Persephone – abducted
innocence; a metaphor
for rape, choking the Hell
out of life, all the while
pseudo affection bribes
a handful of lollies
to sweeten the blow.

I want everything to be saved,
he said.

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

Billy off the Grid

Image

image

Jean François Millet
‘Shepherdess with her Flock’

I’d be content
I think, maybe
if I put one
of those solar
thingy’s on the roof,
and grow my own
medication
in between the
herbs and gourmet
spuds. I could
collect rain water,
filtered by cheese –
cloth, milk
a Capricorn goat
and call her Billy
Bold tethered
to a tree on a long
line. I would have
to buy a ham – mock
and mosquito net
but first I’d have
to settle it all up,
let it go
to the highest bid –
ders, then look
around off the beaten
track for somewhere
remote, outback
with at least a well –
spring for summer;
when it all dies
and I’m left
looking at the goat,
licking my mutton
chops wishing
for a pork, cracking
open a Veuve. I’d do it
and serve up a con –
coction of hysteria
only fit for the loony
bin – laden. I would
laugh at the irony
of having nothing
and no – one to
complain about, ex –
cept who I was
before I decided
to go off grid; fate
leading me astray
after yet another
furious outburst of
solipsism. cynicism
better left
with no one
to witness my de –
mise, except for
Billy Bold
in my bed
keeping me awake,
chewing the fat.

Billy Bold – Graham Brazier (Hello Sailor)

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