Thursday, August 15, 2013

Egghead



image borrowed from bing


Egghead

“Pretend inferiority and encourage
his arrogance.”--Sun Tzu


                                                             Back
                                                            in June
                                                         but only being
                                                  reported today, Simon
                                           Cowell, while judging his talent
                                     show BRITAIN’S GOT TALENT, got pelted
                                with raw eggs. A viola player, Natalie Holt, while
                            performing on stage, leaped up mid-song, & rushed in
                         front of the two singers down stage & tossed a pack of raw
                      eggs at Cowell, soaking his jacket, & splashing his face. Security
                    dragged Holt off stage. She stated that she was protesting against 
                      people lip-synching on TV, & against Cowell’s “dreadful influence” 
                        on the world’s entire music industry. Holt immediately apologized
                           for doing a “silly stupid thing”, so Cowell did not have her
                              arrested. But she shot herself in the foot. Sadly, even
                                 though she is an accomplished musician, after this
                                    well-publicized incident, who would actually hire
                                       her now? Probably no one would take the
                                          the chance of raising Simon Cowell’s
                                                considerable ire; true that,
                                                       damn rights,
                                                              yes.
  

Glenn Buttkus

August 2013

Posted over on dVerse Poets FFA






                              



                                                      

                                       

Monday, August 12, 2013

Blackthorne: Scene 2



image borrowed from bing


Blackthorne

Cinemagenic Two

The Long Death

“One out of four hides were usable, the rest ruined through
clumsy skinning, and spoilage through poor drying and insect
damage.”--Ralph Andrist

1(extreme wide shot) large buffalo herd grazing.
2(sound cues) birdsong over soft violins.
3(medium wide shot) the quiet grazing herd, covering the hills,
waves of bobbing heads, humps, horns, & swishing tails.
4(freeze frame on previous shot)
5(sound cue) the violins become strident, throbbing, screeching.
6a red wash starts at the top center, & upper corners, seeping
into a rapid stream of blood--soon covering the frame.
7(cut back to former medium wide shot) the grazing herd.
8(medium tight shot) a pair of buffalo calves frolicking, an old
scarred up bull stamping his foot and snorting in annoyance.
9(sound cue) Indian branch flute trilling, deep reedy line.
10(another freeze frame of previous herd shot)
11(silence for a two count)
12(camera roaming the still frame)
13(sound cues) dozens of rifle hammers clicking back, followed by
popping sounds in the distance, then louder multiple cracking, then
the lethal roar of several rifle squads firing Creedmoor & Sharps
big-bore rifles.
14(jump cut between close-ups & medium shots) of buffalo being hit
by bullets & thudding to the ground,
15(using some CGI, but mostly real stock footage) of the Montana
sports kill shots, and game warden tranquilizer dart shots; real bison,
real blood, snorting blood spittle as they go down hard.
16(sound cues) beginning with hundreds of pounding hooves, reducing,
fading into mere dozens, finishing with the sound of one buffalo running
through the kill cloud of alkali.
17(cut to medium close-up) thousands of buffalo skulls piled high, &
bleached white in the sun, shot against an electric blue sky.
18(Loman crane shot pulling back) to reveal huge hillocks, many a 
hundred feet high, of buffalo ribs, broken spines, & leg bones,
foothills of bone pyramids,
19(crane shot continuing to pull back & back further) revealing hordes
of hunters scraping & staking the buffalo hides to dry,
20(overhead helicopter shot traveling over the hunters) and we see a
railroad siding, with two large water tanks, coal & wood bins, and on
sidetracks there are flat cars with fresh-cut tree stakes sprouting out
of the edges, being loaded with the buffalo pelts.
21(sound cues) trumpets fading to the sound of one pair of large hooves
galloping across the hard ground.
22(medium wide shot) the white spirit bison bull charging through the
hunters & staked hides, running right to left across the frame.
23(sound cues) Spanish flamenco chords over breaking of wooden stakes,
hunters cursing, yelling, some screaming, a few random rifle shots.
24(cut to medium wide shot) the white buffalo running flat out up
a grassy hillside. 
25(sound cue) harmonica, guitar, violin riffs.
26(medium one shot) the albino bison comes to a halt near the
crest of a hill.
27(cut to tracking shot moving toward the bison)
28(jump-cut close-ups) blinking pink eyes, ivory horns, frothing nostrils,
heaving shoulders adorned with two broken arrows, & a broken lance
imbedded in his hump, an eagle feather still tethered to it, fluttering
in the soft breeze. 
29(reverse tracking shot) pulling back until we see on the green flats
below the brute the town of Blackthorne standing blue in the shimmering
distance.
30(sound cue) a pair of saloon pianos playing counterpoint tunes.


Glenn Buttkus

August 2013

Posted over at dVerse Poets OLN

Would you like to hear the author read this poem to you?

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Blackthorne: Opening Scene



painting by marcia baldwin


Blackthorne

Cinemagenic One

Monarch

“I had the best buffalo horse that ever made a track.”
--William F. Cody

Fade In
1(medium wide shot) midday, vast open prairie.
2(sound cue) violin, sweet pioneer strains.
3(camera POV shifts to helicopter, opens up to wider shot) prairie stillness.
4(sound cue) soft wind in tall grass.
5(close up) wildflowers midst undulating grass, butterflies, bees.
6(sound cues) first a distant sound of hooves, then a lonesome train whistle.
7(dolly shot sliding left) revealing a railroad track, empty to the horizon.
8(medium close up) single track rail, with the sun glinting off the metal.
9(sound cue) acoustic guitar making the rolling train melody.
10(extreme close up) track rail, rust spots, grease, & dust on the side,
rubbed shiny-smooth on the top.
11(sound cue) buffalo approaching, rolling up like distant thunder,
ringing through the metal track Indian-style, the steel quivering. 
12(cut to arroyo, medium wide shot, most of it lit brightly, but dark shadow
on the right quarter of the frame)
13(sound cue) french horns bleating low.
14(sound cue) hooves getting progressively louder.
15(hold medium wide shot for a 3-count)
16jackrabbit scurries into the frame, zig-zagging, kicking up dust, followed
closely by a coyote--they exit frame quickly. 
17(sound cue) hooves reach a crescendo.
18(sound cue) french horns & coronets announce royalty.
19a great white bull albino buffalo bursts out of the shadows
and gallops into the bright sun.
20(Loman-crane traveling shot tracking the white buffalo) this bull bison is 
as big as you can find. The buffalo runs without tiring, its tail straight up
like a charging lion.
21(sound cue) jazz riff, all horns; clarinets, saxophones, trumpets.
22(cut to wide shot) frame filled with stampeding buffalo herd, a sea
of shaggy heads held low, dust filling their nostrils, hanging over them
like ocean mist.
23(cut to a medium shot, a still of the previous frame, with camera 
zooming into close ups & extreme close ups of buffalo heads, eyes,
horns, shoulders, hooves; each shot backwashed into different primary
colors--all except red.)
24(cut to medium wide shot) a speeding train traveling fast toward the
camera, black smoke billowing out of its stack like a prairie storm.
25(sound cue) the iron horse applying panic brakes.
25(medium close up) fat sparks spraying into a shower of fire as
the tall iron wheels lock down.
26(cut to wide shot) the train in the near distance, skidding, blasting
its horn, billowing black & white exhalations.
27the stampeding buffalo herd enters the right side of the frame, spilling
across the shot quickly, crossing the tracks, filling the frame, moving in
waves of muscle & horns.
28(cut to medium two-shot) train engineer and brakeman, panic on their
sooty faces
29(close-up) engineer’s angry face.
30(extreme close-up) engineer’ eyes.
31(sound cue) Voice-over: engineer-”fucking buff!”
32(cut to very wide shot from helicopter) above and behind the train 
as it barrels down on the buffalo herd.
33(traveling shot from caboose over the top of the passenger cars,
over the coal car, and over the locomotive, deep into the black smoke;
bursting immediately out of the smoke and down into the herd)
34(medium close up) the locomotive’s cow catcher plowing into the herd,
buffalo being lifted into the air, several bison thudding to the ground.
35(sound cues) buffalo bleat-screaming, train brakes screeching, train
horn blaring, thousands of hooves clattering, base drum pounding.
36(medium wide shot) train stopped, belching smoke like a dragon,
steam throbs punctuating the air, dozens of buffalo dead or dying,
as the great herd continues to surge across the frame.
37(hold previous shot for a four-count)
38(sound cue) harmonica huffing, cello bowing.
39(cut to medium wide shot) the white buffalo on a high knoll,
overlooking the mayhem.
40(medium close-up) the white bison monarch shaking its shaggy
head, its thick ivory horns humming, its bleating a challenge, a plea,
and ultimatum. 
49(close up) it’s reddish-pink albino eye.


Glenn Buttkus

August 2013

Posted over on dVerse Poets Poetics

Would you like to hear the author read this Cinemagenic poem to you?

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Zealots



image borrowed from bing


Zealots

“It is not God who fucked up, it’s the screamers who say
they believe in him, & who claim to pursue their ends in
his holy name.”--John Irving

God has multiple faces,
every pigment of skin,
speaks all languages,

but it never
has made any sense to
me that as

many choose, or
are chosen to follow a
specific faith, they

immediately fan their own hubris,
plunge into pitfalls of elitism, 
condescend to everyone named Morris,
& condemn all the other ‘isms.

The world’s religions break down to
the Big Dog Clubs, the strays, and non-members;
33% of us are Christians,
23% are Muslims, 14% are Hindus,
7% are Buddhists, 2% follow Judaism,
about 10% are considered non-religious,
and everyone else falls through the cracks. 

Are we all slaves to our own base nature?
If we belong to or favor a sports team,
a fraternal organization, a city, a state, a country--

this somehow makes us feel superior
to everyone else? 
We belong, they don’t, so fuck them?

Citing our unalienable rights to fight
for what we believe in, versus what
they believe in, giving us impetus
to declare war on them. 

Our Founding Fathers believed that
we should always keep Church & State
as separate entities, & yet throughout history
more wars have been fought,
more lives have been lost,
more blood has been shed,

over religious conflicts than
any other single factor. 

The entire American Military Complex
is in crisis, it seems, facing
a suicide epidemic. Last year more
active duty servicemen & women
committed suicide than died in combat.

Within the US Marine Corps,
in another lame attempt to promote
well-being among troops, they force
those on active duty to fill out
a training document, asking them
to check boxes that pertain to them,

as their commanders hope to prevent
loss of life by monitoring warning signs
like substance abuse, criminal records,
prior suicide attempts, implied sexual orientation,
and the latest is “lack or loss of spiritual faith.”

In the Army they require soldiers to complete
a survey that measures their “spiritual fitness”,
because spiritual people have decreased odds
of attempting suicide, spiritual fitness has a positive

effect on quality of life & mental health,
and no one is ever allowed to put the word
atheist on their dog tags. 

Come on, how in hell are we to keep religion
out of the armed forces,
out of politics,
out of our schools,
out of our workplace, &
out of our wars.

Are there truly no atheists in foxholes
during a devastating mortar attack?
Have there been wars in heaven
as the angels did battle wearing
white or black wings?
Is there a war within our own hearts
between greed & compassion?

Rhetorical inquiries I suspect, since
belief in one’s faith often denies logic
and fully embraces conundrum.

Midst the maze, each of us must seek
our own answers, adopt our own conclusions,
and then face the consequences
of those actions--regardless
of what we are told, mandated, preached to about,
dictated, forced, cajoled, or manipulated
by the powers that be. 


Glenn Buttkus

August 2013

Posted over on dVerse Poets

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Monday, August 5, 2013

The Woman Who Knew Too Much



image borrowed at bing


The Woman Who Knew Too Much

“I don’t care if there’s panther piss in it--
as long as it makes me feel good.”--
John F. Kennedy

Today was the 51st anniversary 
of Marilyn Monroe’s death by suicide.
It is also President Obama’s 52nd birthday.

It was in May 1962, after being warned to stay away,
that MM showed up at Madison Square Garden
for JFK’s 45th Birthday gala celebration, and
sang the most famous breathy sexy version of
Happy Birthday on record, in front of the guests
and the media; later

at the After Party, the White House photographer
snapped dozens of images of MM & JFK together,
the negatives & prints of which were confiscated;

but yesterday a famous 1 out of 10 framed print
of MM, JFK, RFK, & Harry Belafonte surfaced
and sold at an art auction for $23,000.00. 

Less than two months after that event
MM was found dead in Brentwood, then
JFK was assassinated in Dallas the next year, &
RFK was assassinated in LA a couple years later;
Death was a popular dance partner it seems.

JFK first met MM as a Hollywood starlet in 1951,
three years before he married Jackie in 1953.
They met again at a social event in 1956.

Shortly following her divorce of Arthur Miller,
on the rebound from an affair with Frank Sinatra,
she met the Kennedy brothers in early 1962
at the home of Peter Lawford. 

She started having affairs with both of them.
RFK really fell hard for her charms, but Monroe
had set her sights on JFK, screwing him in
bathtubs in Lawford’s home, at her own house,
& several times in Palm Springs.

The Affair sent serious ripples through the halls
of power--Hoover started an FBI file on MM--
Sam Giancana started a Mafia file on her.
Most people think that unwittingly, Monroe
bedded down with dangerous people in
a very deadly game. The Love she felt
for Jack Kennedy probably cost her life. 

Monroe confided to friend, actress Terry Moore,
that she could imagine herself as the next First Lady.
Jackie’s marriage had long been on shaky ground.
She complained that JFK always “Went too fast, and then
fell asleep”, while the White House spin doctors spread
vicious rumors that Jackie was an ice queen, totally frigid. 

In a drugged-out stupor, Monroe called Jackie, and informed
her of the details of the affair, & of her intentions to become
the next Mrs. Kennedy--”That’s great,” Jacqueline replied,
“ You move in, I’ll move out, and you can deal with all
the problems.”

Always tolerant of JFK’s varied infidelities, with the likes
of Angie Dickinson, still this time Jackie became angry,
calling Monroe “ A sick slut, a loose cannon,” who could
obliterate their marriage, JFK’s reputation, and hold
Jackie up to public ridicule.

There is no doubt that Marilyn Monroe was indeed
a “disturbed woman”, in and out of several psychiatric
clinics for borderline personality disorder, and a severe
addiction to barbiturates & alcohol.

One dark day in the spring of ’62, Monroe was notified
by the Justice Department & the White House
that her relationship with the Kennedy brothers
constituted a national security risk, and she was
being forced to “cease all contact with the Kennedys.”

The weekend before her death, she met with Joe DiMaggio
at Lake Tahoe, and they talked about getting remarried.
Her nude body was discovered dead by her maid on
August 5, 1962.

“Hollywood killed her,” said DiMaggio.

Oh, Joe, I think it might have been a bit more complicated
than that. I believe it was the same collusion, the same
gang of political & criminal thugs that first protected
JFK, and then turned on him like a pack of Rotweillers
the very next year, the moment he supported
the Civil Rights movement.

Then some of that murderous pride had late
night rendezvouses with Hendrix, Morrison,
& Janis Joplin. Who ever said fame & power
were safeguards against calamity?

Glenn Buttkus

August 2013

Posted over on dVerse Poets OLN

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Saturday, August 3, 2013

Black Angels



image borrowed from bing


Black Angels

“Negro pilots cannot be used in our present Air Corps units, 
since this would result in Negro officers serving over white
enlisted men, creating an impossible social situation.”
--General Henry “Hap” Arnold

John Henry Allen died today at 84;
drafted right after high school in 1945,
he was assigned to the 332nd Fighter
Squadron Wing of the Tuskegee Airmen.

Black pilots were prevented from participating
in WWI. After tremendous pressure & lobbying,
in April 1939, Congress designated funds for
the training of African-American pilots.

Of course there were strict racist protocols
regarding the training, & they only accepted
those applicants with high IQs and good educations,
& the resulting units formed were fully segregated,
staffed by all white officers.

So what was the Army Air Corps to do with these
“black gorillas with wings” that Congress had forced
upon them--of course, that became as little as possible.

At first the black pilots were trained at the
477th Bombardment Group to fly the
American B-25 Mitchell Bombers, but
they were never allowed to fly in combat. 

But in 1941, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt
inspected the Tuskegee Program, and she
was taken aloft for 30 minutes by veteran
black pilot Al Anderson. And gosh, right after
that the 99th Fighter Squadron was formed.

Still, the 99th was held in reserve until 1943,
when they were finally deployed to N. Africa;
only allowed to fly ground attacks, & were
prevented from flying air to air combat missions.

One bright note in the chaos was that their
aircraft kept improving; they cut their teeth
on the Curtiss P-40 Airhawk, then got the
Bell P-39 Aircobras, followed by the
Republic P-47 Thunderbolts-that were
the first planes to have their tails
painted blood red. 

In July 1944, when I was a month old,
they received the first shipment of
American P-51 Mustangs. After drenching
their tails red, the squadron was finally
deployed to Europe, where they were
“allowed” to fly as fighter escorts for several
B-17 Bomber Groups. The bomber losses
had been as high as 50% on some raids,

but the Tuskegee unit flew 179 escort missions
and only lost 25 bombers, earning them the
affectionate nickname of Red Tail Angels.

Those black pilots fought like demons, unleashing
all their pent-up passions, sensing that they had
a chance to change history; and they did.

In desperation, the Germans sent up their super-fighters
against them, the FW 190 radical propeller fighters,
the ME 153 rocket-powered fighters, & then the 
ME 262s, the world’s first jet fighters--and the
Red Tails shot them down by the dozens.

Three Tuskegee Airmen officers went on to become
generals in the Air Corps. In 2007, 300 of the surviving
airmen were awarded Congressional Gold Medals.
180 survivors attended the first inauguration
of Barack Obama.

I tell you we were very fortunate that a band
of black brothers rose up and sprouted angry
wings when we needed them, distinguishing
themselves against incredible segregational odds.

The survivors inspire us to strive to become
better Americans, where all of the Jim Crow
racism is pursued and punished with righteous
“extreme prejudice; and one day, I hope it will
be as extinct as polio, and that no one will tolerate
its regeneration. 


Glenn Buttkus

August 2013

Posted over on dVerse Poets Poetics

Would you like to hear the author read this poem to you?