A Month of Bloody Sundays for a Soireè

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That bloody clock

just keeps ticking away, oblivious to the tension

stretching my larynx to breaking point,

reminding my throat how fucking dry it is

without Vocalzone.

Stupid me, put my finger up didn’t I and

said I’d bloody do it!

Rhiannon knew it was a bit much to expect

after her long hiatus, but I loved her so much!

It’s so un-fucking-fair. My expectations of me,

others, hope’s, memories and failed dreams.

I just want to sing. Sing my little husky heart out,

warm my chops and put on a show – but no,

it is not this day.

My throat peaked off into falsetto land

without my god-damned permission!

I nailed it yesterday but those professional folk

down in Portsmith Club won’t be looking for

quirky.

I stuck my bloody hand up and said I’d do it,

knowing full well I’d need to practice

for a month of bloody Sunday’s before

Stevie Nicks invited me back to her condo for a soireè.

For God’s sake!

I know I can do her, I’ve done her a thousand times in my dreams

and belted out that husky vibrato in A minor.

I sent the man a text ‘Can’t bloody make it’,

knowing his contemptable chuckle will reverberate through the atmosphere

on the other end.

Why did I do it?

Put my hand up and wave frantically for someone to take notice,

‘Here I am pick me, pick me – I can sing’.

I could sing, really well, years ago in my thirties and forties.

I feel so lonely without her.

She used to sing me to my happy place but not any more.

It’s like dying a savage kind of musical death and I’m so scared its over.

I don’t think musicians can really be bothered with a

washed-out-has-been-old-girl

from New Zealand.

There’s plenty more fish in the sea, so it seems.

I’ll just stay at home and feel sorry for myself and

cry myself to sleep.

© Copyright 2018, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

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Rhiannan

Concrete emotions honed
un-toned body making sounds
of pleasure, lost at sea
drowning yet serene

Work, a means to an end
not my un-doing, I choose
this life, chosen now and not before
forceful reminder’s
solidified

*

I know this place, familiar
un-tamed yet calm, numb
yet seductive

© Copyright 2007 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Mothers

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Who says there is a God?
wishful thinking created by man
to control the masses; no
Mothers in sight – save Mary
but look
look what happened to her our Lady!
Mary Magdalene
will rise again
she will be known by all her names
fire, earth, sea and sky; Ishtar

we shelter in the rivers and forests
gathering all the sticks and stones

Mary emerald as the forest green
will ride with Rhiannon
her shoes of moss and lichen
her cloak of rainbow silk: transformed
eye’s like Innana shedding tears
as sisters mourn and do
& all that is dark and been before,
will shadow us no more

she has awakened in terrible wrath and has unleashed a whore

Kali destroys and  makes anew
Pele knows which heart is true
Abundantia  makes it very clear
there are no more second chances here

Gaia,  Papatuanuku and Ostara, forging ahead new life
Innana, Dana and Isis surrounding them with light
Athena and Mother Mary have much to undo and teach
Aphrodite, Ostara, Nemetona and Ixchel
Mothers of divine healing heart

all these Mothers will guide us through without the slightest flinch

she is all Mother and we recognise her full
we run with open arms, no fear
she restores our wayward souls with care
she cradles our broken hearts to weep
peace will be reborn again
where war has gone before with man
our raging rivers will forge and cut
ravage and avenge; our rivers
will shed tears of pain
new paths lest we forget

calling all our wonderous women
our voices banshee wail
we will hear them in our hearts full throb
and never fear again
here comes Persephone from the dark
the first to see the light,
Demeter fills an earthen jug that overflows with tears
she gently wipes her daughters feet to cleanse away her fears
and without Mothers no seed will grow
and so they must obey

but men are men, God or not
and evil still prevails
our Mothers cast all seeing eyes
and none shall let them pass
Zeus may watch with Ranginui
for both have known this day
Hades left enraged behind
his plans for her subdued
for she is with the Mothers now
a war he cannot  rule

Persephone is free at last
Who says there is a God?
for Goddess rule this world or ours
Papatuanuku birthing fruit
my Maiden showing me the truth, wary as she treads
my Mother prays the safest journey our Mothers forged ahead
my oldest Crone will rest her bones on her dying day
and sisters will be reborn again and again
woven waxed and waned

© Copyright 2010.  Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Lady of the Night 

Your wish is my command
I will push back and pull forward
confronting your senses while tearing apart my own
I perform admirably
I hold my head up in the face
there’s only one thing on my mind,
no monthly specials here
no flat ‘on my back’ rate either!
I’m a bargain in the first place, comparatively
they should be so lucky
no chance of getting bored,
I re-invent events
creatively juicy and spicy hot with a side of lies
the blood never drains nor loses its metallic colour
and the well will never dry with KY,
spread from arsehole to breakfast like _______
Class?
I got class, my website deems it so

“It would be my absolute pleasure to welcome you into my
wonderful world, filled with all things naughty and nice.”

oh make me over, please!
I lie
on my back, my side, my stomach… and my face is covered
69 divine and women line up!
I’m not exclusive… smile ; )
sad and lonely is universally applied, like my eyeliner
smudged and blurred
obscured from most
I provide a service, the hostess with the most(est)
and fine wine will have you spellbound!
they line up
I spread em’

in a downtown apartment with a sea view
on Fur-Lined avenue – not!
my un-inhibited wide-on, exhibited
and the 26th floor, awaits you but
I am not for free
never for free
I am a Lady of the Night
who shines in the face of adversity
with trust issues and insecurities like the rest of us
I am not blinded by earthly needs by fools
I wake up,
I put on my make-up
I dance to my own tune
and pay the bills

© 2007 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Exerpt reprinted on Quilt, Melbourne Festival of Sex Workers, 2012