Blackthorne--Scene 49

painting by paulus potter

Blackthorne

Cinemagenic Forty-Nine

Intrigue

“Perhaps the habit of intrigue is infectious--in the

air or the walls--like secret passages in the mind.”

--Susan Kenny.

1(cut to medium wide-shot) The two men riding double on the big Red,

with the white stallion limping slowly behind them--on a tether held

fast by the Eagle.

2(sound cue) banjo & guitar.

3(two shot) the pair riding at a walk toward the camera as it moves

ahead of them.

4(tight two-shot) angle on Buck: We need to take it easy on Jesus, but

that’s fine; probably get back to the ranch after dark.

--Johnny: Damn, I feel estupida; almost busted my culo.

5(close-up)angle on Buck: Consider your self twice-lucky, old man, that 

no bones were broken. If my big ass had hit the ground that hard, we’d be 

pulling me home on a fucking travois.

6(angle on Johnny)--Nice idea, but what would you have made it out of--

cactus & horse shit?

--Buck: Hell, we probably would have tied your arms & legs to a couple of

brush poles, & I would have laid out on top of you.

7(sound cue) harmonica & piano. 

8(medium close-up) a pair of prairie dogs standing tall watching the riders

in the near distance.

9(two-shot) angle on Buck: So what about the Appaloosa? Should we hunt

him down, & bring him to ground with a .50 caliber slug of pure vengeance?

--Johnny: Oh, maybe not this time. I got an Apache hunch that one fine day

he will wear the ABuck brand.

10(close-up) Buck: Christ, wouldn’t that be something! But, sombitch--catching

him is like roping a daydream.

11(cut to a two shot) angle on Johnny: I hate to stomp your spit-bubble,

Boss, but I tell you, I really don’t think we can ever run him down. We will

never catch him.

12(close-up) Buck’s face; a wrinkled brow--Does the mighty Eagle, the

grande horse master, the maldito wrangler just give up so easily?

13(sound cue) Indian seed rattle.

14(cut to CU of Johnny) smiling, with his dark eyes twinkling: Chinga that

notion, my Buck. This great mancha will be yours. It’s just that we will need

to trick him, you know, appeal to his cock, & not stir up his fear & pride.

15(angle on Buck)--You mean pony express him--bring fresh mounts with

both of us & hop aboard them mid-gallop when our stallions are blown out?

16(angle on Johnny) --Sure, sure, that might work, but I think that

even then that spotted stud might still run them, or himself, to death.

--Buck: Then how should we do it? Smoke & mirrors don’t impress

a flying demon.

--Johnny: You know that our bad boys are swift; goddamn fast, as

quick as any hammerhead in these parts--until today. That devil

ran our studs right into the ground, race over--& I got the hijo puta

bruises to prove it. He runs like a crazy mountain puma with his

prick on fire, he leaps into the air, flying with his hooves off the ground,

like something out of shaman legend. He gallops like the firewinds

of hell. He is Chatawa.

17(sound cue) harmonica, coronet, & Indian tom-tom.

18(close-up) Buck: Yes, Chatawa--nothing faster, nothing stronger. 

--Johnny: Hey, we’ve got some sexy brood mares back at the ranch--

especially that pretty little palomino bitch.

1(cut to an overhead drone shot) The Appaloosa was loping smoothly,

not in a rush now, halting at the head of a deep gulch.

2(sound cue) a horse herd milling about, hoofbeats, snorting, whinnying

sweet & low over some guitar riffs.

3(cut to a medium wide shot) POV over the heads of a herd of spirited

mustang--fifty strong. In the distance we see the Appaloosa galloping

out of the dim gulch toward them. Several mares see him approaching

& they let the others know.

4( medium close-up) a fat diamond back rattlesnake that’s wrapped around

the gray dusty branches of some sagebrush.

5(sound cue) blues guitar slide & harmonica huffing.

6(cut to medium wide shot) as the Appaloosa gallops past the snake, over

the top of a stationary camera.

7(cut to an overhead drone shot) above the stallion as it rushes to rejoin

its herd.

8(sound cue) snare drum beat over horse’s hooves.  

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub OLN

Threnody

image borrowed from for wallpaper.com

Threnody

“A lament in one ear, maybe, but always a song

in the other.”--Sean O’Casey.

The Republicans

assure us that global warm-

ing is a liberal lie.

I just read where Tom Selleck’s whole avocado orchard

died of drought. He paid for & hauled in water--& the

County sued him for breaking archaic ordinances;

go figure. 

In the Northwest, our last two summers have been screaming

scorchers, while in California, where many of my friends live,

there has been a murderous cauldron of angry drought, 

followed by heavy rainfall, mud slides & flash flooding. We

are experiencing a radiative imbalance clear across the

country. 14 out of the 15 hottest days in history have happened

since 2000. Industry & utilization of fossil fuels for transportation

have stoked the intensity of greenhouse gases. Measured

concentrations of carbon dioxide, methane, & ozone are now

at higher levels than any time in the last 800,000 years.

Here on the west coast, this Fall, it seems that rivers rage over

their parched banks causing massive flooding. The lovely

Indian Summer has packed up it’s hogans & slipped way

South under the cover of darkness. Last week the first

frost wilted the last of the flower boxes on our deck. Every

month there are more price hikes on meat & produce secondary

to panic & manipulation. The oil barons continue to push us

around & reap the rewards of our carefully controlled fear.

We begin to feel that we reside in a battle zone under constant

peril.

Granted, men can adjust to any environment, & we are bred &

socialized to survive. But look to the poets, who believe that

even in hell one can find flowers to admire, & sunrises to greet,

& sundowns to gush over, & children & pets to hug. 

Common sense tells us

the difference between bullshit

& actual science.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Poetics

Resistance

image borrowed from overlord44.free.fr

Resistance

“Courage is resistance to fear, not the

absence of fear.”--Mark Twain

I was awakened by cats fighting

outside my wi(n)dow, as whirling shreds

of my last dream sparkling in the near

darkness like dwarf ersatz fireworks

were oddly connected images with me

in a war zone somewhere, a member

of a rag-tag band of resisters, poorly armed

without a plan other than a gnawing need

to survive low on ammunition--several comrades

badly wounded, wrapped in dirty bloody rags

surrounded by real troops in helmets & kevlar

with machine guns, tanks & ordinance, but

somehow just being a part of a fight for freedom

with defiance, pride & zeal on every face swelled
my chest with tremendous resolve because sometimes

we just need to pick a side & follow our heart

no matter what the final outcome because

subjugation & surrender have never been sign 

posts within the vastness of my dreamscape.

When all seems to be

hopeless, our spirit resists

because it just must.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over on dVerse Poets Pub MTB

where we are called to utilize Enjambment. 

Vampires are Real

image from makeup.lovetoknow.com

Vampires are Real

“The strength of a vampire is that people will not

allow themselves to believe in them.”

--Garrett Fort

I like you too much not to tell you--there are real vampires in 

this world. I am one. I am 72 but I look 35. You know, because

of the tremendous popularity of Vamps in the last twenty years,

& the proliferation of pretender wannabes, it makes it much

easier for us to live amongst you without detection.

You may have noticed that I have a greenish-yellow ring around

my iris, & that I seem short of breath a lot. I pass that off as a

case of asthma. It is unnerving, I’m sure, that when you just

glance at me, I know it, & I stare at you immediately. If you return

my stare, you will not be able to look away until I let you. I have

a thick, heavy aura, but it is not depressing--rather it raises some

euphoric reaction in you.

My fingernails are like clear glass, but are very strong. I sleep in

a bed, not a coffin. I am not immortal, but I live more than a century.

When I’m around, electronic devices often malfunction. I do not appear

to have fangs, but my canines are extra sharp. No one has to be killed 

for blood. We all have relationships with very willing donors, many of 

them Emos. We do substitute blood from herbivores, but blood from pigs & 

chickens is not safe; full of deadly parasites. Sunlight will not kill us, but it 

does make us very uncomfortable, like you having a sunburn, & our eyes 

are super sensitive; thus my constant wearing of cool sunglasses--without 

them we suffer terrible migraines. Consumption of human blood gives us 

immunity to the sun for 2-3 days. 

Sex with a vampire

is heaven cloaked in hell;

something memorable.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub "Poetics"

Pendejo Politico

image from filibuster cartoons,com

Pendejo Politico

“Democracy is when the indignant, & not

the men of property, are the rulers.”

--Aristotle.

Them: Pick your battles, old son--that is wisdom.

Me: How does one breathe air that is rife with industrial toxins?

Them: Just run immediately to Amazon, they carry gas masks.

Me: Do you make a practice out of subterfuge? 

Them: We see that your words are your weapons, pernicious poet!

Me: An observance so deep that I can applaud it.

Them: You consistently put forth a liberal point of view.

Me: You fail at presenting bull shit as truth!

Them: We really lack the energy necessary to deal with you.

Me: So binge on Snickers--food for endurance.

Them: We warn you that you are treading a dangerous path!

Me: Why don’t your ever try to walk the damn walk?

Ask politicians

honest questions & prepare

for bull shit showers.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at The Sunday Whirl

Blackthorne--Scene 48

image taken from pearltrees.com

Blackthorne

Cinemagenic Forty-Eight

Impasse

“You will not be punished for your anger--you will be

punished by your anger.”--Buddha.

1(medium wide-shot) Suddenly the galloping white stallion smashed

through a prairie dog city, & stumbled. Johnny Eagle took flight, his

legs pitching over his head, & collided with the ground just after big

Jesus did.

2(sound cue) saxophone, coronet, & drum bap.

3(wide two-shot) Buck reined up his Red, pulling back his head, whose

eyes were bulging, his nostrils flaring, hopping, side-stepping but

staying on his hooves, his great heart gushing, with veins & cords

pounding in his neck & chest, his forearms & gaskins cramping.

4(cut to overhead drone medium wide shot) the Appaloosa running on

alone as the riders halted in a white cloud of dust.

5(close-up) Buck, biting his lip, his blue eyes glinting green.

6(sound cue) Johnny’s loud groan over Indian branch flute:

--Que chingados!

7(medium close-up) Buck raised up in the saddle, standing in the stirrups.

--Buck: Son of a bitch!

8(cut to medium wide shot) as the Appaloosa galloped out of sight ducking

into a deep arroyo.

9(cut to a two-shot ) Buck patting the neck of his horse:

--Calm down, big man, it’s fine--there is always tomorrow.

He swung down from the saddle, dropping the reins on the ground, then

squatting next to Johnny--who was sitting up touching himself on the arms

& shoulders; Jesus was up on his feet.

10(sound cue) guitar chords & harmonica.

11(tighter two-shot) angle on Buck:

--Are you hurt, old man?

12(reverse shot) over Buck’s shoulder, angle on Johnny, out of breath:

--That is the fastest horse I have ever seen in my whole fucking life!

13(sound cue) coronet & galloping hooves.

14(cut to static wide shot) the bare lip of an arroyo, just as the Appaloosa

burst into sight, & then halted; swirls of dust danced around him like alkaline

shadows.

15(tighten the wide shot) He whirled around and stared back toward his

pursuers.

16(close-up) the stallion’s head bobbing, neck arched, long mane flying.

We see the horse is winded & has some sweat & saliva lather on his muzzle.

17(cut back to the two men) Buck helping the Indian to his feet.

--Buck: Piss on that bronc! Did you break anything?

--Johnny: Maybe my ass is all. Ay Caramba--I will be useless as tits

on a fence post tomorrow, just a dozen knots of pain all bitching

at once!

Buck smiled a tight grin.

--Johnny: Ay, that horse, that goddamn mancha devil. 

18(medium two-shot) Buck with an arm around the Eagle:

--Today he beat us, stomped us good--but on a different day he

feel our ropes, soon to be lead stud at Antlered Buck. I swear it.

The two men stood there for a moment, as Johnny held onto Buck’s

shoulder--both of them gazing out over the unforgiving salt flats to

the black shadows in the distant arroyo.

--Johnny: You know I think I see him out there watching us.

--Buck: Probably just a trick of the light, wishful thinking.

19(sound cue) Jesus whinnying low over a piano chord.

20(widen the two-shot)

--Johnny: Jesus, you crazy boy, you threw me half a mile.

The silver stallion was standing on three legs, with the right front

one held off the ground. The Eagle knelt next to him, feeling along

the injured leg, examining the new swelling between the knee &

the fetlock.

--Johnny: Damn, you must have been tired, old son, to step in a

hole like that.

--Buck: Do you think it’s broke?

--Johnny: No, I don’t think so. He’s like me, a tough old shit. Yes,

he is bruised, sprained, exhausted & pissed off, just like me.

--Buck: Should we camp here, or do you think he can make it

back to the ranch.

--Johnny: Sure, sure, he can make it, if we go slow & stop a lot.

I’ll ride double with you up on Rojo.

21(sound cue) Blues guitar slide & juice harp thwack. 

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over on dVerse Poets Pub OLN

Du Gamia, Du Fria

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Du Gamia, Du Fria

“You love & lose & bleed best you can, to the extreme, hoping

that one day the world will read you like the poem you want

to be.”--Charlotte Eriksson.

I hear it now: Thou Ancient, Thou Free,

though I’ve never been, ever the absentee.

I think of prehistoric Svealand,

before Beowulf, even before the Viking,

before patriots an anthem could sing,

Remembering when the land was covered in ice.

I hear it now: Thou Ancient, Thou Free,

though I’ve never been, ever the absentee.

After the great lakes receded & hunters could

roam vast forests for red deer, moose, & firewood,

& petroglyphs appeared in caves of gneiss,

remembering when the land was covered in ice.

I hear it now: Thou Ancient, Thou Free,

though I’ve never been, ever the absentee.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over on dVerse Poets Pub Poetics

Bjorn wants us to write to images of Swedish petroglyphs. I wrote a Sonnetina Rispetto.