Monday, October 16, 2017

The Dead Sea



image from sites.psu.edu


The Dead Sea

“Destruction is man’s will; nevertheless remember
prevention can also be man’s will.”
--Babu Rajan.

Global warming is not our only problem with our
besieged oceans, nor are oil spills. After using our
seas as a toilet for thousands of years, it is man’s
garbage that is the primary culprit. We let 1.4
billion pounds of trash per year enter the ocean.
In addition there is run-off pollution, called non-
point sources.

I love seeing images of fish & marine life snarled in 
plastic refuse. There is a proliferation of micro-
plastics, pieces a few millimeters in size, just below 
the surface, from coastal garbage patches clear to 
the Arctic sea ice. Many pollutants create algae 
bloom, which in turn creates a dead zone. Habitats 
& reefs, normally teeming with life, are becoming inert 
biological deserts.

The sea is dying;
we are to blame--but it is

not too late to act.


Glenn Buttkus

Saturday, October 14, 2017

J. Hump Records



image from breitbart.com


J. HUMP RECORDS

“I hear that Melania has a reoccurring nightmare--
she’s in bed pinned down under a 300 pound sack
of orange shit.” --Bill Maher.

Damn,
it was Little Bill who broke the news--
our President has let Rap become 
his new Muse.

Debonair Donny has found a way to expand his
base and rejuvenate his Presidency. BITCHES 5,
a new Rap group, performed at the White House
during Black History month. Midway during the
show, Trump leaped to his feet, turned his red
ball cap backwards & began to rap alongside the
performers. He and the lead singer began to bump
hips, then doing a facsimile tango while rapping 
in counterpoint duet. Everyone clapped, and our
President became smitten.

At three a.m., he began a Tweet storm:

OMG-I’m in lust with #Shakutth & she adores #Me.
My secret love with Rap has been revealed. She is
now my constant companion. Moving her now

into the WH. #She makes me feel 40 again! Am
appointing her the #SecretaryOfTheArts. That hag
Melania is out in the cold, while sexy foxy..

#Shakutth has captured my heart. Skank #Melania
will live in NJ; will not divorce her, cuz that could
stain my political image; she agreesOK

Shakutth is a gorgeous 25 year old NY-bred sassy
sometimes lesbian, who is half black & half Jewish.
She told CNN that her Lovey-Name for the
President is “J-Hump”. He created a record company
for her. Her first album, J. Hump Rules, has shot to
the top of the Pop charts, & is very popular in
Israel.

She is at his side 24/7, replacing Ivanka as his 
political advisor. “She is my chocolate Yoko Ono.”
She began to dress just like him, starting a new
fashion trend & resurrecting his Clothing Line.
His popularity numbers rose from 35% to 75%.
She stated to FOX & FRIENDS: I flat out told 
Jay--if you want to keep tapping this fine ass,
then it’s no more fucking Nazis. 

She recruited 50 of her LBGTQ friends to be her
Brown Shirt Posse, dressing them like Mussolini
thugs. They’re all strapped with pink Glocks. The
Secret Service works with them, all eager to do
photo-ops with the new entourage.

Jared & Ivanka throw huge parties now where the
BITCHES 5 perform, celebrating all the Jewish
high holy days. Our President goes to a Jewish
Temple on Saturdays, and a Baptist Church on 
Sundays. He has learned a lot of Yiddish epithets
which now spice up his Tweets. A rabbi has a new
office alongside the WH chapel. Trump has been
endorsed by Jews for Jesus & Woody Allen.

I’m now having a ball,
don’t need no fucking wall.
I told Little Rocket Man
that from now on he can keep his
regime cuz he’s part of my team.
I told all those losers in Europe
that they could suck my syrup,
while I’m banning all travel to Middle East
(cept for Israel) cuz my diplomacy is dope,
a fucking fantastic moveable feast. Yup,
and we fixed Obama Care--did it on a dare.
I tell you I could not be a happier man,
cuz Mexi-cants have turned into Mexi-cans.
and I’ve gone from being a sad sack zero

to a fucking red-white & blue super hero ! 


Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub OLN



Thursday, October 12, 2017

Pachyderms on Parade



painting by Samuel Adler Heydenn


Pachyderms on Parade

“I just shot an elephant in my pajamas. How he
got in my pajamas I’ll never know.”
--Groucho Marx.

Climate change is the elephant squatting
in the yard, tearing up important grass,
making mud, sucking up ponds, then spraying
trunk rain, eating hedges, showing its ass--
impervious; as all those who are crass
say global warming is just a bad joke,

but they are giving hornet’s nests a poke.


Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub MTB

Monday, October 9, 2017

Dream Dancing



painting by Pedro Alvarez.


Dream Dancing

“Those who were seen dancing were thought to be
insane by those who could not hear the music,”
--Friedrich Nietzche.

Pepper breeze,
          melting lull,
               rose leaves,
                     dawn ghost,
                          curling bubble breath,
                      Spring balloons,
               fear giggle,
        green breeze,
cloud journey,
         storm scars,
                whisper jar
                        drizzle echo
                                    shimmering slip,
                        twisting leaves,
                  sound cue,
           spilling sparks,
   giggle shadow,
flickering,
dream dancing--
opening into that
actual

blissful hope.


Glenn Buttkus

Most all of the Quadrille words.
Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub Q44

Hold On, Pain Ends



wall art by Banksy


Hold On, Pain Ends

“Hope is patience with the lamp lit.”
--Tertullian

Does hope die
confronting adversity,
                   poor health,
                   overwhelming odds,
                   madness, chaos,
                   or evil?

                   No.
                  
                   Of course not.
               It is renewed
           with each sunrise,
                  every breath,
                  every heartbeat,
                  every smile,
                  every hug.

Hope conquers despair,
just as Spring dispatches Winter;

you can count on it.


Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub Q44

Tuesday, October 3, 2017

Blackthorne--Scene 70



image from horowhenua.kete.net.nz


Blackthorne

Cinemagenic Seventy

Parenting

“The child supplies the power, but the parents
have to do the steering.”--Benjamin Spock.

1(sound cue) piano & harmonica
2(overhead crane shot) Blackthorne awakening,
kids & dogs running about. a few citizens on a
stroll, one wagon rolling down the street.
3(dolly shot) moving in to the General Store front.
4(medium wide shot) interior of the store; Henry
Wallace counting out his money for the morning
register.
5(close-up) twenty dollars in silver, ten in paper,
five in change; the same every morning.
6(medium wide shot) early rays of sunshine that
filtered in through the stained glass on his front
door, some emerald sprites of light dancing with
the dust along the plank floor, The words
GENERAL STORE covered the two front
windows, The red paint on the large letters was
peeling. Onions, pickles and bacon, tobacco &
leather, peppermint candy canes, linseed oil
and gunpowder smells chased each other 
around the cramped spaces.
7(sound cue) banjo & violin.
8(tighten the shot) Wallace hummed a song, 
matching the score, as he strolled over by the
front window with STORE painted on it. He tied
his clean linen apron around his thin waist.
9(medium close-up) Wallace staring out the 
widow at the few people outside. He had a
breakfast egg stain on one corner of his frost
mustache. He removed his reading glasses.
10(sound cue) Good morning, Pop--came a
cheerful voice behind him.
11(two-shot) He turned and nodded to his
daughter, Salina--his look thorny.
12(medium close-up) Salina--Is your back
bothering you again?
13(two-shot) over Salina’s shoulder--Wallace:
The only way I’m gonna cure my aches & pains
is to die. You may not realize this, but I’m not
getting younger.
Salina: Could have fooled me.
Wallace: Seriously (she laughed) when are you
going to give me a grandchild to go fishing with
--and when in the hell will you start minding the
store yourself?
14(close-up) Salina: Well, let’s see, if I get 
started today, you could have one in less than a
year. You know that I’m not ready to get married
yet, but for Christ’s sake, if you’re dead set on
having a grandchild to spoil, I’m sure that I can
find a dozen dull dicks around here to assist me 
in making one.
15(medium close-up) Wallace: Why do you always 
have to make a monkey’s ass out of me so early
of a morning?
16(sound cue) clarinet & accordion. 
17(wide two-shot) Salina chuckled, but did not
reply. She walked over to the fabrics table and
started folding & stacking the patterned bolts
of cotton and the colorful bolts of silk. Wallace
opened the front door, chiming the tiny welcome 
bells, and kicked a hand-carved doorstop under it.
Wallace: Thor Bronson was looking for you.
Salina: Damn, alert the society page.
Wallace: This is a small town. Sooner or later, you
are going to have to see him again.
Salina: He’d like that--but the skinny bastard leaves 
me cold--and like his brother, he spends too much
time with the whores.
Wallace: Seems like you didn’t always feel that way.
Salina: He behaved himself at first. I danced with him
a few times, had a picnic, drank moonshine with him
on the Fourth of July. Around here, that’s like being
engaged. I’m sick of it. Do you approve of him?
Wallace: Hell, no. He’s an arrogant asshole--but
hey, he is a Bronson.
Salina: And therein lies the problem.
Wallace: He’d put you up in a fine house, & treat
you like a prairie queen.
Salina: I’d rather marry a ranch hand & live in a tent.
Wallace: Talking to you is like talking to myself--I 

can’t make no headway.


Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub OLN

Grammer's Wig



image by Tony Luciani


Grammer’s Wig

“The most wasted of all days is one
without laughter.”--e.e. cummings

my shoes fit not
many times post-yogurt
(no spit from sandals)
old man toenails because
in a mason jar gather gleam.

knows no one like troubled
church mice, their claws broken
pining for flight to nestle
in christ’s beard suspended
from penitent arches, wanting
to lick the painted tears.

loam-deep fingerless gloves as
concrete dwellers wine in their whine,
damn too busy app-pursuing to count
(ladybug’s dots) on table clothes
in the outhouse blue purity.

why do sheep weep as llamas cry,
(wolf masks dominate) october’s
last gasp as socks from crippled
dogs are launched at the moon,
barely a midnight slit.

after death sex lingers
with dignity, necklaced in poetry,
pursuing pedophile priests living
in cloud cracks, praying between
the lines, scourging themselves
with feather dusters as cherubs clap,
holding still wings of plastic blood-red.




Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub


Monday, October 2, 2017

Invasion



image from iambrose.deviantart.com 


Invasion

“You can almost hear the frost faeries moving in
--but first you hear the crackle of their wings.”
--Vera Nazarian,

My home is twenty short miles from the Cascades,
and in our valley, lulled by the last weak rays of
extended summer, we watch the snow level
easing down on the brawny shoulders of the
foothills. Mt. Rainier has already put on its winter
garb, thickened its glaciers, and covered all its
bareness.

My wife frantically picks her tomatoes. as the
blossoms wither and the stems droop. Tomorrow
morning it will be 38 degrees. The massive maple
next door is ablaze with autumn’s blush. We get
busy gathering boots, winter coats, covering outside
faucets, readying snow tires, and dusting off rusty
tire chains.

The nefarious frost faeries are gathering like clouds 
of icy mosquitos. We hear them buzzing at night,
like ravenous humming birds, approaching in dark
murderous murmurations from the east, coming 
ever closer, their chilled wings aflutter, their icy
fangs agape, their frozen gaze locked on us.

Great Maple stands so
ready to disrobe, needing

to shed its leaf skirt.




Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub--Haibun  





Thursday, September 28, 2017

Ginsberg Slept Here


image from pinterest.com


Ginsberg Slept Here

“I love sleep--for my life tends to fall apart when
I’m awake.”--Ernest Hemingway.

Sleep can be a waking state as well, whereby
people vote as if blind.

Marlowe referred to the Big Sleep induced by a
.45 or blackjack.

As a youth, sleep could be pushed aside, in 
favor of romance or play.

****************************************************
As I age,
sleep comes in fits and
groggy spurts.

Sleep used to 
include dreams every night;
presently,

dreams click through
sleep like changing channels
all night long.

*************************************************
If we truly are
powerful beings, does sleep
recharge us, or just
supply us recreation
and fantasy fulfillment?

There are several
theories about whose dream we are
part of or master
of, and sleep is supposed to
sort it all out; smile.

I have come to love naps,
for they fill in the gaps

in my fitful sleep.


Glenn Buttkus

american sentences, collom lunes, tanka & haiku.

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub MTB  

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Twins Within



image from amazon.com


Twins Within

“We are all performing a comedy within, as
one self always mocks the other.”
--George Moore.

                            Born in the
                      middle of June, with
                 six moons in Gemini, I have
               enjoyed the moniker of earthly
            intellectual for over seven decades. 
               I never really paid much credible
                   attention to birthstones, since
                      I rarely wear any jewelry.

I discovered that both
     pearl and moonstone can 
         be representative of June, but
             the real surprise was that the most
         preferred June birthstone is a
     very rare color-changing variety
of the mineral chrysoberyl
called Alexandrite.

                             The gem is emerald green in
                        sunlight, and changes from ruby
                to purple-red in candlelight--reflecting
            the twins aspect of all Gemini. 

This is a very valuable gem, and can be quite
expensive--from 15 to 30 thousand per stone.
It was discovered in Russia, in the Ural Mountains,
in 1830, and was named after the Czar. It is now
found as well in Brazil and East Africa. Today,
the Russians, bless their greedy hearts, have
developed a synthetic form of Alexandrite for 
those of us with more modest means.

How wonderful that
Alexandrite reflects my

duality; cool.          


Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Monday, September 25, 2017

Beyond the Bland



image from musiclifetoday.blogspot.com


Beyond the Bland

“I often quote myself. It adds spice to my
conversation.”--George Bernard Shaw.

In
the early 90’s,
as Clinton
tom-catted,

the first major
pop group sensation
out of England
was the Spice Girls--

Mel B.,
Emma,
Melanie,
Geri, and
Victoria.

They danced
more than
they rocked.

Victoria
was dubbed
the “Posh Spice”.

I loved

“Spice Up Your Life”.


Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub Q44  

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Blackthorne--Scene 69


image from pinterest.com


Blackthorne

Cinemagenic Sixty-Nine

True Love

“True love is like ghosts, which everyone
talks about, but few have seen.”
--Francois de La Rochfoucauld.

1(low wide shot) near the ground; prairie vast,
pocked with hillocks & arroyos--camera moves 
toward the horizon, gathering speed; soon just
skimming the sagebrush.
2(sound cue) coronet & banjo--punctuated by 
loud bleats on saxophones.
3(reduce to medium wide shot)  suddenly, out of
the sage a large pair of brown birds bursts into
flight--prairie buzzards.
4(drone shot) tracking the buzzards, just above
them, as they gain altitude, and the ground 
below slides by.
5(sound cue) harp strumming and great wings 
flapping.
6(drone takes the point of view of birds) as the
field of slain buffalo comes into view. and the
lens descends to the fallen bison furthest from
the young hunter. 
7(sound cue) guitar & harmonica.
8(medium wide shot) Buck stood up & walked
toward the two buffalo, the graying black cow
standing next to the fallen albino bull. He halted
about twenty feet from their yellow horns.
9(close-up) the patriarch still breathing, but not
moving, still watching Buck.
10(sound cue) three cellos.
11(two-shot) the cow behaved like a tame Jersey,
swishing its tail, chewing its cud.
12(medium close-up) She watched Buck with
calm brown eyes that recognized him, somehow
understanding who he was, the singer of her
death song. She had already faced & moved 
beyond her fear, leaving only a black stillness.
13( close-up) Buck: Get the hell out of here !
Leave ! I have killed enough of your family !
I don’t need your pelt ! I grant you life !
14(three-shot) They both stared at him with the 
bemused patience of the aged. He drew his 
pistol & fired into the air. We see the buzzards
fly off a few feet & stop to witness. The black
cow did not even flinch.
15(medium close-up) Buck: Goddamn it--didn’t
you hear me ? Go !! Join your baby & the others!
16(sound cue) French horns & snare drums.
17(three-shot) He fired the Thunderer twice, 
kicking up gravel near her hooves. She did
flinch but would not run.
18(close-up) Buck’s anxious eyes, then her calm
ones.
19(medium close-up) Alright--so you have run far
enough? You faithful tired wonderful bitch--join
your husband.
20(overhead drone shot) He raised the Sharps,
point blank, and shot her in the head--blood
spewing for several feet. It broke her neck, and
slapped her to the ground.
21(sound cue) cello & piano.
22( tight three-shot) They lie together, two ancient
bison, their true love shot away. Buck sank to his 
knees, weeping, like he had when his mother died.
He sat there for an hour, until the great snow bull
died--taking one last rasping breath, his huge body
convulsing in a last shudder. Death was a spirit
stallion appearing suddenly. The slain pair rose to
their feet & galloped after the swirling darkness.
Buck rose slowly, his face now an expressionless
mask. He propped up the shiny cold-barreled 
Sharps at the albino’s head, unbuckled his sawed 
off and finished killing the others. He would have to 
set up a camp, then begin the skinning of the pelts.

He would need to build a travois to haul them all on.


Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub OLN

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

The Why Chronicles


image from dreamstime.com


The Why Chronicles

“Judge a man by his questions rather than
his answers.”--Voltaire.

Why must we toil
in ignorance, perhaps
even suffering
in the Now,
when our Higher Self
has always had a road map
and all the answers we seek?

How many of us,
when the time comes,
will face death fearlessly,
with grace and dignity?

Are there cosmic limits
on the number
of spirit guides we can possess?

If most of matter
is nothing more than empty space,
when did we decide
it had substance,
and how did we implement it?

If dogs and cats do go
to heaven, how about
mosquitos, spiders, & rattlesnakes?

When someone decides
to ride out a powerful hurricane,
does it require courage,
ignorance or a death wish?

Within the confines
of a lifetime, how
many versions of us
simultaneously co-exists
in parallel & overlapping dimensions?

Will the darker and ignorant side
of Trump’s nature ever be considered
substantial enough to implode
his rogue presidency,
or must we continue
to be force-fed daily
humiliation and outrage
for the next three years?

When will any police officer
ever be actually held accountable
for the killing of unarmed black men?

Are there more homeless people
today in this country than ever before,

or are we just more aware of them?


Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub



Thursday, September 7, 2017

Malaise



image from presidiacreative.com


Malaise

The strongest people are those who win
battles we know nothing about.”
--Robin Williams.

For over twenty years
I have been a host
to a vicious pack
of autoimmune demons,
who like hyenas
circle around me, much
more than angry pairs
of eyes in the darkness
just beyond the firelight.

Mostly, emboldened
my medical team,
I can exert minimal
mastery over their
voracious nature--
but sometimes
one or more of them
make it to me,
chewing me up a bit--
nothing life-threatening,
but quite debilitating.

So
the broken news
is that my Western
saga will not appear
today--the creative energy
required to produce
another stirring episode
cannot be conjured.
                 cajoled, or
                 brought to the surface.

This latest tussle
with the pack
will pass,
as it always does,
but BLACKTHORNE.
the meat of it,
is now on the back-back
burner--placed gently
on a slow.
very slow

simmer.


Glenn Buttkus

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Dragon's Teeth


image from worldwarphotos.info


Dragon’s Teeth

“Any sufficiently advanced technology can be
indistinguishable from magic.”
--Arthur C, Clarke

Born in 1898.
my grandfather loved
to tell stories about his magical
youth, like when he was a a kid
delivering watermelons in a horse-drawn
wagon in Kettle Falls, and his team
was frightened by the sight of 
one of the first horseless
carriages, belching 
black smoke.

Too young to be conscripted
      in WWI, still he read his Jules Verne,
           and saw with his own eyes some of the 
      first planes, tanks, and machine guns.
His best friend had been a sniper
for the Army in France. He returned
with burned lungs from the gas attacks
in the trenches, and a tortured soul
haunted by battle fatigue until he died
of lung cancer at 29.

Turned out that my 
    grandfather was to old
         to be conscripted in WWII;
             was married with three kids, still
         he witnessed, as he put it,
    the advance of technology 
that was ushered in by the Allied 
need to achieve.victory”, the by God 
dawn of the Atomic Age, the death of
millions.

I once worked with two WWII veterans, both had 
been prisoners of war. One was working on a POW 
farm in Austria. Suddenly they heard a terrible roar;
looking up they saw a plane without a prop falling
out of the sky--but at the last moment it leveled off
and shot back up into the clouds--it was one of the
first German jet fighters. It took several days of
discussion among the prisoners to figure it out.

The other veteran had been in a POW camp on
the mainland of Japan. Late in the war, they were
awakened by a huge earthquake; running outside, 
looking across the bay, they saw the ominous 
rising of a mushroom cloud as Fat Man devastated
Nagasaki.

We boomers have seen
our own technological

magical marvels.


Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Thursday, August 31, 2017

Remember the Alamo



image from fineartamerica.com


Remember the Alamo 

“Just like the Alamo, somebody damned well
needed to come to their aid.”
Lyndon B. Johnson,

Put your empathy to the head of the line,
Raise your compassion above skyscrapers,
Aim your assistance to the Gulf, to the SW,
Yell hosannas well beyond state borders,
Follow your best instincts, your humanity,
Or let your heart be your compass & guide;
Rescue every man, woman, child, & pet, for
Texas is now hurricane-crippled--devastated;
Everyone needs to care, to reach out--
Xanadu will have to be rebuilt, taking years.
Angels must now all come out of hiding as

San Antonio rings its mission bells.


Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub MTB

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Shoo-Fly Shuffle



image from vector4all.net


Shoo-Fly Shuffle

“I still have my feet on the ground--I just wear
better shoes.”--Oprah Winfrey.

Don’t know why,
but last night I had me
a whopper of a shoe dream;
shoes on parade,
but the fashion show
was all jabberwocky.

I’m telling you there were
horse flies wearing horse shoes,
weimaraners wearing winklepickers, 
all pointy-toed & rock starfish,
turncoats in turnshoes &
medieval topcoats, 
tan yachtsmen in mango toeshoes,
silver salamanders in steel-toed boots,
pygmy elephants in elevator shoes,
garden slugs wearing saddle shoes,
wharf rats in tiny ruby slippers.
young oxen in oxfords,
lazy lizards in mink loafers,
paunchy leprechauns in hairy pampooties,
red roosters in Russian boots,
jack rabbits in polished jack boots,
howling hyenas in high heels,
Mexican monkeys in mauve moccasins,
juniper bugs in jazz shoes,
and clown fish in Dori’s.

Footwear is diverse,
though barefooting is still fun

in fields of clover. 


Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Monday, August 28, 2017

Bliss be a Lady



painting by Danny O'Connor


Bliss be a Lady

“Each of us could extract bliss from grief,
and knowledge from gloom.”
--Khalil Gibran.

There are certain
intangibles 
in this life--

perfect happiness,
pure love,
actual liberty,
perhaps truth;

but they remain
worthy goals--
bliss for a nano-second,
relative truth,
imperfect love,
truncated liberty,
accommodated guilt,
and good health--

extended
for as long
as they may

last.


Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub Q44