Wednesday, December 11, 2019

Blackthorne--Episode 106




image from etsy.com


Blackthorne


Cinemagenic 106

Heart Song

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly.
What is essential is invisible to the eye.”
--Antoine de Saint-Exupery: The Little Prince.

1(sound cue) piano and violins.
2(close-up) Johnny, after an inhalation of pain:
If it comes to killing him, use a knife. A blade is
best. I want him to feel his own bowels, as I feel
mine, drop into his hands, just a steaming pile
of guts in the street, like butchering a boar.
3(two-shot) Buck: A knife it shall be.
Johnny: He runs.
Buck: El Blanco?
Johnny: Yes, and he is swift.
Buck: Will you chase him?
Johnny: I want to. I could catch him. I, too, run
like the wind.
4(tight close-up) Buck: Let him go, brother. He 
will come again.
5(sound cue) guitar & harmonica.
6(two shot) Johnny, after a beat: Did I ever really
tell you about your father?
Buck: No.
Johnny: Why not do you think?
Buck: I never asked you about him.
Johnny: Then it is time.
Buck: after hesitation, If you say so.
Johnny: I do. Bill Buck...he was a man.
7(medium close-up) Buck, quickly: Whiskey
devoured him, drowned his heart, slayed his soul.
8(two-shot) Johnny: In the end something
destroys all of us.
Buck: So far, nothing really likes the taste of me.
Johnny: Even loneliness?
Buck: I am home now, and I am not lonely--I
have you.
9(close-up) Johnny: Me? I am nothing.
10(two-shot) Buck: No, sir, I will not hear you. You 
are the Aguila, soaring over the land, and we
wither in the shadow of your wings.
Johnny: I will not die.
11(sound cue) accordion and banjo.
Buck: Die? Can they kill the thunder
storm? If you throw a rock at the sun,
will it go away?
Johnny: The sun is inside me now--
burning my bowels.
Buck: The Doctor will be here soon;
just hang on, my brother. I will not
let you leave me.
Johnny: We will have a grand rancho.
Buck: The grandest.
12(medium close-up) Johnny: We were
going to go and find you?
13(two-shot) Buck: Who?
Johnny: Your father and me; a week before
he was killed? He was an old man, and he
couldn’t travel alone. I was his amigo.
Buck: After all those years, why in Christ’s
name would he do that?
14(close-up) Johnny: You were his only family,
his son. He wanted to look you in the flesh, and
try to tell you how sorry he was, and to tell you
he loved you.
15(two-shot) Buck: Love?
Johnny: He knew he would not live much longer.
Grief was consuming him.
Buck was silent.
Johnny: In your family, you are the life force. Your
people were not strong. Death rode their shoulders,
rode them right into the ground. Sadly, they never
lived as we do. Life shines in us, even though now
it grows dim in me.
Buck: I will fan that flame.
Johnny: I am fighting. I hear the words from
my death song, but I won’t sing them yet. 
Yet I have seen much. I rode hard.
Buck: You will ride again.
Johnny: Caramba...you would have to tie me on
a horse.
They both laughed, and it was difficult for the Eagle.
Buck: We are talking a lot. Does it hurt to talk? 
Would you like to close your eyes and rest? I
promise I will not leave you.
16(sound cue) cello

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub OLN

Tuesday, December 10, 2019

Buy-By-Bye




image from tuthdig.com


Buy-By-Bye

“Our echoes roll from soul to soul--and grow
forever and for ever.”--Alfred Lord Tennyson.

When young, death is but a shadow
--follow.
For some of us, death can come early
--barely.
My own mother was just thirty-nine
--pine.
My tiny nephew died of SIDS
--kids.
For me, funerals can be a drag
--hag.
Loved ones should just have a joyful wake
--cake.
No one gets out of life alive
--jive.
Mortality becomes middle-age crazy
--daisy.
They say fifty is the new forty
--sporty.
After retirement, time reaches hyper-speed
--indeed.
Your older body begins to break down
--clown.
Your own libido takes flight
--fright.
No one wants you to drive a car
--har-har.
Funeral homes send Christmas cards
--regards.
You become easily distracted
--subtracted.
You begin forgetting many things
--badda-bings.
When walking you seek more benches
--trenches.
You hope Death resembles Robert Redford
--Stepford.
Perhaps with death comes a doorway
--hooray.
You attempt to stifle your fear
--tear.
You try to muster your resolve
--evolve.
Always step gaily into the light
--good-night.


Glenn Buttkus

Echo Verse

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Monday, December 9, 2019

Desert Serenade




image from onegreenplanet.com

Desert Serenade

“In the desert the line between life and death
is sharp and quick.”--Brian Herbert.

From a moving car the Southwestern desert
looks barren, placid, even inert, but I took a
camera, built a sagebrush blind, and sat for
a whole day. I found that death sweeps over 
the halcyon hotbed like a shimmering mirage, 
rife with survival scenarios.

A Gila monster is climbing a cactus in pursuit of
bird’s eggs. Though it’s venomous, and marked
like a diamond back, it’s a lizard. A gray sand
spider is burying itself, preparing to leap out and
attack small prey. A pair of golden eagles are 
swooping down and feasting on jack rabbits.

Suddenly a cow is screaming across the arroyo
nearby. She is limping, viciously pursued by three
coyotes, Her rear flanks are bloody from bites.
They quickly disappear behind a sand hillock.
Then coyote yips and whines fill the air. I guess
they met the herd bull.



Glenn Buttkus

Prosery

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Thursday, December 5, 2019

Great White Fathers




image from wikipedia.com 


Great White Fathers

“Those who would expect to reap the benefits of
freedom, must, like men, undergo the fatigue of
supporting it.”--Thomas Paine.

If there is an afterlife,
our founding fathers
must be burning their wigs
over the state of our union.

Gentlemen, I realize
that you were not demi-gods, icons
or devils--you were actual men,
with all the weaknesses and foibles
integral to that species.

First off, it is very evident
that Dolly Madison, Abigail Adams, and
Mercy Otis Warren were helpful
in the shaping of our Republic, yet
history has been mute regarding these women.
Why is that?

James Madison: Are you serious, sir? It would
not have been prudent to acknowledge their
distaff contributions.

Alright, let’s talk about slavery. Most of you
owned slaves. Though you had
an opportunity to do so, you chose
not to deal with the issue of slavery.
Why not?

Thomas Jefferson: Sir, we had the wolf by the
ears. We could not subdue him, nor could we
afford to let him go. In addition, we could not
imagine that the thousands of slaves from our
day would mushroom to millions, nor could we
have envisioned your present day civil rights
issues.

OK, what about the Indians? The Native
Americans were here first. I think you
clearly saw the crux of future conflicts
with the indigenous populations, yet
you made no provisions for dealing
with this obvious future problem.

George Washington: Actually I did make an
attempt to deal with this, planning on creating
sovereign reservations for their tribes, but
Hamilton had to remind me that we lacked
the resources to implement these plans.

Of course in fact, they were ignorant
savages, who were resisting inevitable
progress.

George Washington: Yes, there was that
to consider as well.

Benjamin Franklin: But would you agree
that our achievements outweighed our
failures?

Yes.

Alexander Hamilton: As Emerson noted, anyone 
who compares themselves to us, must realize
that we had the advantage of “being present at
the creation.”

John Adams: It’s been stimulating having this
conversation with you. We have to do it again
sometime.

Far out, I’m in.



Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Monday, December 2, 2019

The Spirit Triumphs




image from etsy.com


The Spirit Triumphs

“Here in America, we are all descended in blood
and spirit from revolutionists and rebels. As their
heirs, we must not confuse honest dissent with
disloyal subversion.”--Dwight D. Eisenhower.

During
the Golden Age
of Comics.
in 1940,
artist Will Eisner
created a newspaper
comic series called
THE SPIRIT, 

about a murdered
rookie cop,
Denny Colt,
who returns
from beyond to fight crime.

He was sexy
and had super powers.
It ran until 1952.



Glenn Buttkus

Quadrille

This comic book character, one of my favorites, has lasted 
79 years, right up there with Superman and Batman. They
made a TV movie about him in 1987, which flopped. They
made a film about him in 2008, which was a moderate
success. Dark Horse Comics has resurrected him in
recent graphic novels.

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Blackthorne--Episode 105




image from etsy.com


Blackthorne

Cinemagenic 105

Tenacity

“ Don’t give up your dreams--cling to your vision
with all the tenacity you can muster.”
--Orison Swett Marden.

1(sound cue) cello and harmonica.
2(two shot) Buck rose up and tramped off through
the long shadows of twilight toward the bunkhouse.
3(close-up) Johnny’s eyes reflected the flames still
in front of him.
4(dolly back to a one-shot) His arms were folded
around his belly like a bat folds up its wings. His
shoulders slumped, his head was down.
5(expand to a two-shot) 
6(sound cue) footsteps, creaking leather, and tin
against tin--Buck returned, whistling a tune, loaded
down with a saddle, a lantern and a burlap sack.
Buck: Hell, we got everything we need.
He opened the sack and pulled out a blanket, a pile
of rags, disinfectant, and a half bottle of whiskey.
Buck: You know, I never did like that barn much--
didn’t spend much time in the house either. If I
was to ever take a woman, it might be strange to
try and make a home in that house.
Johnny: Hey, I hear you, but that’s bullshit.
Buck: No shit about it, Pard, carefully peeling
back the shirt around the wound in the Indian’s
shoulder. That house was full of death and
sadness, and that barn was full of rats.
7(cut to close-ups) Johnny: What will you do?
Buck: Rebuild.
Johnny: I meant tomorrow.
Buck: I will keep my appointment with Bronson.
8(sound cue) piano.
Johnny: You will kill him?
9(two-shot) Buck poured some disinfectant onto a
clean cloth and dabbed it into the shotgun wound.
Johnny did not flinch.
Buck, after a moment: Maybe.
10(close ups) Johnny: I will not die.
Buck: A mean sonofabitch like you? Christ, no,
not today. He gently grasped the Eagle’s wrists.
Let’s take a look at your belly.
11(two shot) Johnny allowed his hands to be
lifted. Buck bit his cheek as he peered at the bullet
gash in the plexus, but his eyes remained calm.
Johnny: Is it bad?
12(sound cue) violins and branch flute.
Buck: Amigo, it is not good--but the bleeding has
stopped. Let me bandage it.
Johnny nodded. Buck tore several strips of cloth
from an old cotton shirt. Johnny held his arms up.
His shoulders quivered. Buck began to wrap the
strips around him, but an eagle’s talon that hung
around his neck got in the way.
Johnny: Take it.
Buck carefully removed it, and held it.
With it could go your luck .
Johnny: Crazy talk, boss. I will be stove up for a
month, no more. You wear it while I heal up. It will
be good medicine for both of us.
Buck nodded, and put the talon, suspended on its
leather lanyard, around his thick neck.
Hold your arms up again.
Johnny did. Buck wrapped the thick strips around
Johnny’s waist, and tied them tightly. He wrapped
the old warrior in a red horse blanket, and tipped
his head back gently onto a saddle that was 
propped up behind him. He eased him back like
he would with a sick child. He held the bottle of
whiskey for him, tipping it up, letting Johnny gulp
down three scalding swallows.
Johnny: I tell you this killing is the only thing that
Bronson understands.
Buck: I will see him tomorrow. If these were his men,
I will tear his heart out and eat it in the middle of
the street.
Johnny: Jesus, boss, you know these men were sent
by Bronson!
Buck: We killed every one of them, so I can’t ask.
Johnny coughed, then rasped: I piss in the milk of 
his mother.
Buck: I shit in the milk of his grandmother.
Johnny: He must not win.
Buck: I fear there will be no winners in this.



Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub OLN

Tuesday, November 26, 2019

Bramble Berries




image from organiccrops.com


Bramble Berries

“He who sows brambles will reap thorns.”
--Spanish Proverb.

There was a time, when I was a kid,
a child not a goat, when picking
blackberries was a family affair.

Although, in praise of goats, it is widely
known that they are the best solution
for eradicating pesky thorn bushes.

They are a very sturdy plant. You can mow,
chop, burn, crush or dig at them, and they
will spring back when your back’s turned.

Most neighborhoods have a vacant lot,
or neglected corner where blackberries
can thrive, where the ripe fruit awaits.

They can grow in poor soil, ditches, steep
hillsides, and hedgerows; even in a
wasteland, and could devour a football field.

A dozen of us would show up in long-sleeved
shirts, jeans, and high leather boots, for
protection from the blood thirsty thorns.

We brought gardening gloves, and ladders
to drop over the six foot bushes, a handful
of band-aids, machetes, and sharp clippers.

We carried colorful plastic buckets and
rinsed-out coffee cans to hold our freshly
picked multi-pounds of bounty.

My grandparents called them cane berries,
because of the thick stalks, and they pointed
out that blackberries were not real berries, for

they were made up of seeded drupelets, cousins
to raspberries. My grandfather was fond of saying
that raspberries were a feminine fruit, where the

berry slips off the stem, leaving a cavern in the
middle, but blackberries had to be plucked,
and their erect stems remain intact.  



Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Poem written in the style of Ted Hughes.