Dances of Dissimulation

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Dances of Dissimulation

“The irony is that too often the people we tend

to vote for actually look down on voters.”

--Steven Weber.

Tanka Time

A man who strives to

paint masterpieces might end up

drawing comics for 

a living--you know, Silver

Surfer & Thor & Batman.

**************************************

A woman who studies

ballet for twenty years might

find herself walking

dogs, teaching the tango &

some physical therapy. 

***************************************

A boy from Detroit’s

projects, wanted to be a

draftee in the Pro--

NBA, but instead he

became a great math teacher.

*****************************************

Hey, who makes a good

President--a person born

to wealth & prestige,

or someone with bleeding lips

from the far side of the tracks?

***************************************

Once a loving dog

begins killing chickens, he

becomes only a

killing machine, slave to blood

lust & dark primal murder.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub MTB

Treespeak

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Treespeak

“The clearest way into the secrets of the universe

is through a forest wilderness.”--John Muir.

I have been standing right in this

very spot for over 5,000 years.

I can see Bishop, Ca. from here, 

above tree line atop the high

foothills of the Sierras.

I am more dead than alive these 

days, but you know, it is quite the

honor to actually be the bristle cone

pine that is the oldest living thing

on the planet. I am all alone now.

About 200 years ago, they nick-named

me Methuselah. I had a little brother,

Prometheus, who was 4,800 years old

when some miscreant geologist chopped

him down.

Most humans are ignorant of my supreme

sentience, & my complete awareness of

the events surrounding me. I remember

Atlantis & Lemuria before recorded history.

I am a living memory bank that could rival

even the cyber-intelligences of the present.

Let me just illustrate as I glance back at some

near-historical events that occurred on this day,

March 28th, over the last 2,000 years:

In AD37, Caligula accepted the title of Principate

from the Senate. fanning his madness.

In 1854, the Crimean War was declared.

In 1868, writer Maxim Gorky was born.

In 1902, actress Flora Robson was born.

In 1921, actor Dirk Bogarde was born.

In 1924, child actor Freddie Bartholomew was born

soon to pretend he watched Spencer Tracy drown.

In 1939, Franco conquered Madrid during the 

Spanish Civil War before Hemingway wrote about it.

In 1941, writer Virginia Woolf drown herself.

In 1951, the First IndoChina War began.

In 1953, athlete Jim Thorpe died, right after

Burt Lancaster played him in a movie.

In 1959, Dwight D. Eisenhower passed away.

If you had another century to listen to me,

I could share so much more. We are living in

a unique era now, & I look forward to being

a chronicle for several more centuries. 

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Messenger

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Messenger

“Man is a messenger who forgot the message.”

--Abraham Joshua Heschel.

Balloon me to

the stars--a man

muttered,

but as I turned

to him,

his face inflated,

detached,

and ballooned

past me.

Above it

a comic book

balloon hovered,

saying--

the balloon 

in your heart valve

is bursting.

I knew it was a lie.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub Q44

Blackthorne--Scene 61

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Blackthorne

Cinemagenic Sixty-One

Cost

“Good words are worth much, and

cost little.”--George Herbert.

1(sound cue) snare & bass drums, from rapid to

slow beats as the riders disappear.

2(medium wide shot) Buck with his big hands on 

his hips, Johnny with his strong arms folded.

3(sound cue) piano & harmonica.

4(medium close-up) Buck: There it is.

He pulled his flat black hat low over his angry eyes.

5(two shot) the Eagle remained stoic staring after

the intruders. Buck strolled over to the burlap grub

sack, and sliced off four more thick strips of bacon.

6(tight close up) His thin sharp skinning knife slicing

off the lovely fatty meat.

7(sound cue) Cheewa whining.

8(two shot) Buck & the black dog: Here, big fella, you

might as well have a treat--as he held out a slice.

9(close-up) Cheewa’s soft mouth as he accepted meat.

10(sound cue) dog munching.

11(widen two shot) Buck returned to the campfire. He

flipped out the old burned bacon, much to the canine’s

delight. Buck added wood to the fire, & squatted beside

it. He dropped the fresh bacon into the blackened fry pan.

12(sound cue) bacon sizzling.

13(tighten two-shot) Johnny appeared at the fire, and he 

squat down midst the blue cooking smoke, his arms still

folded. They had a quiet moment. Johnny picked up a

twig & began drawing glyphs in the dirt.

14(close-up) Johnny, over Buck’s shoulder, speaking

softly: You know, we could have ended this right here.

Buck: Maybe so.

15(sound cue) harmonica & cello.

16(close-up) the Eagle: I was plenty pissed off. I think

we could have taken them

17(voice-over) Buck: The price was too high.

18(close-up) Johnny, over Buck’s shoulder: Were you

afraid of them--or was your fear for my safety?

19(close-up) Buck, his eyes softening: Both.

20(two-shot) angle on Johnny, as he snorted: Tell me,

will you actually do as you said? Will you play nice

with with that fat cinche hefe?

Buck: You tell me--what would have happened if we

had killed the Bronsons?”

21(close up) Johnny, grinning slyly: They would be

dead, & their trouble with them. We would have 

burned their bodies, then maybe got drunk.

22(close-up) Buck: I like your conclusions, fierce one--

but what about the wranglers? We would have had 

to kill all five of them--a terrible cost.

23(two-shot) Johnny, over Buck’s shoulder: A price

I would have paid.  None of them were innocent.

24(close-up) Buck: It is a sad thing--peace is harder

than war. What we do must have consequences. I

don’t think I could build my rancho upon those burned  

bodies. I came home to build a new life. So, if it is at

all possible, I have to wage an ugly peace. Bronson

is ten kinds of asshole. Today went to him. We will

have to see about tomorrow.

25(two-shot) Johnny, over Buck’s shoulder: God damn,

my Buck, this is tough steak to swallow.

26(close up) Buck: We both know this is not over--it is

just the beginning.

27(medium close up) the Eagle forced a tight-lipped smile,

and nodded yes.

28(sound cue) Indian seed rattle over blues guitar slide. 

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub OLN

River Lore

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River Lore

“A good river is nature’s life work in a song.”

--Mark Helprin

It is fascinating

to hike up into the glaciers

& visit the deep alpine lakes

that constitute watery wombs

for the divers icy creeks,

born to sprint downhill

toward their erotic

rendezvous with a river.

They say

that even the mightiest

of rivers--the Columbia,

                     Amazon,

                     Ganges,

                     Nile,

                     Colorado,

                     Yangtze &

                     Mississippi,

just single-mindedly flows

from its source to the sea,

and that regardless

of its strength,

it cannot return

to that source

as easily as we can

to our own--and yet

in my view, a river

ever recycling,

ever reinventing itself,

does not think of tomorrow

or dote upon its yesterdays;

for it flows only in the Now,

rushing headlong toward the sea

in order to embrace saline & change.

If it has its own version of a soul,

some metaphysical consciousness,

it remembers its past journey

as it peers into the clouds

and prepares itself

for winged transport

back to another beginning,

a new journey,

a new Now.  

************************

I always feel sad

while in the midst

of a desert trek, 

and I come upon

a phantom rivers’ dry bed imprint

sculpted into the hot sand.

Where did it go?

Why did it leave?

When will it return?

In America’s Southwest,

during rain torrents,

there often are river demons whelped--

flash floods--born as innocent

as black butterflies, sharing

a short life, but adopting the guise

of water-borne behemoth,

eager to wreak havoc

and drown old people

in their classic Cadillacs.

“I have great wealth, yet I am poor--

because I am a river to my people”

--Anthony Quinn 

LAWRENCE OF ARABIA

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Thespis Ate Here

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Thespis Ate Here

“Is it possible disdain should die while she has

such meet food to feed it on as Benedick?”

--William Shakespeare

MUCH  ADO ABOUT NOTHING

Sense memories often collide with recall as the

tattered pages of the past reassert themselves.

In the mid-70’s, when I was actually paid to be an 

actor, I was on a Bus & Truck Tour sent out by the 

Seattle Rep, performing in a classic comedy, SEVEN 

KEYS TO BALDPATE, originally done by Jack Benny

in 1935.

We were on the road for six weeks, performing in four

Western states. One of the stops was in Winnemucca,

Nevada, setting up the show in the Richard Nixon Civic

Auditorium. This is a high desert town, famous for its

colorful cluster of casinos & cathouses.

Actors only get Mondays off, and during one about eight

of the cast visited a local Cajun restaurant. Oddly it was

set up with long lines of white-washed picnic tables. It

was family dining, with no menu. You paid a flat rate &

they brought you whatever they were serving that day.

It was “all you could eat”. As a vibrant group of mostly

young & always hungry Thespians, we were delighted.

There were four servers, and they started off with tall

chilled pitchers of wine, juices, & soft drinks. Then 

came a cavalcade of salads--classic green, caesar, 

fruit and pasta. Ten minutes later they bought out huge 

hot platters of meat--beef steaks, chicken, & pork roast,

accompanied by steaming pots of vegetables--green

beans cooked with bacon, broccoli dripping in tangy

cheese, & asparagus spears seasoned with Cajun

spices. In addition there were several kinds of potato

& rice dishes. We devoured the food as if we had just 

broken a fast. When we were stuffed, they cleared the 

tables and brought forth the rich desserts--cakes, pies 

and puddings.

Two years ago I revisited the spot where that restaurant

had been. It had changed to a Mexican establishment, so

we ate there anyway. As I munched my enchiladas, my

mind buzzed with the particulars of that fabulous feast

from forty years before.

Meals from the past must

remain there since memories

have no calories.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub-Haibun

Perspective

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Perspective

“There are no facts, only interpretations.”

--Friedrich Nietzche.

Camp alone on the high desert,

near midnight, when coyotes voice

your frustrations, your anguish;

while staring hypnotically

at the molten shades of flame

within your fire--

tracing the swarms of live sparks

that launch skyward above

the popping & snapping

of burning mesquite.

Hold your gaze at the trajectory’s apex,

where the sparks drop back to ground--

then further up into stratospheric ebony,

that ant’s nest of stars that choke the sky,

dancing like Navajo silver jewelry

around the blood moon.

The cosmic conundrum congeals

behind your eyes, beyond your

visual cortex, as you ponder 

on how anyone can grasp 

infinite universes expanding--

a never-ending metaphysical drama?

Are we but dust mite microbes

in a macroverse residing

within a viscus dew drop

on an illusory Joshua Tree?

Are we co-creators of AllThatIs,

or simply window dressing

created by hordes of gods,

unseen, faceless, genderless,

beyond comprehension?

Then rejoice, for at those moments of projection

& introspection, when quantum insights have to

be distilled & rendered down to coherent thought-

bites, we are simply too awed by our infinitesimal,

yet colossal, essence, fully encased within the 

meaty manifestation of our spiritual entity,

to really give much damn credence to the

present neo-fascist alternative facts barrage

that pelts us like corrosive acid rain in a foul

continuous Trumpian turd-storm.

People survived

concentration camps, so we

will survive the Trump.  

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub MTB

Trumpland

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Trumpland

“When you’re a star, they let you do anything

you want.”--Donald J. Trump.

Michael Moore made a movie

about it, dripping with satire--

but I heard that Trumpland

will be for real;

when the building of the Wall is stalled

due to lack of funding, the POTUS

in 2018 will erect his dream park in Florida,

and of course it will be huuugggee;

bigger & more fun than Dollywood,

brighter than Bollywood,

darker than any of Disney’s lands,

dwarfing Disney World

and the Universal theme parks,

sprawling out like a sinister Kraken.

The Main Street will be called MyWall

Street, where every building, every business

will proudly display the Trump brand.

There will be a gargantuan casino

called Putin’s Palace, and the Russian

decor will be all original & imported.

Putin, himself, will have an executive 

penthouse atop it, and will make several

personal appearances.

There will be ten golf courses,

and 25 cocktail lounges where

ex-Hooter’s blonds will serve

Trump vodka,

Trump Steaks, 

Trump kosher dogs,

& Trump Emperor cheese burgers.

There will be Fashion stores

selling Trump suits.

Trump wigs, ties, & socks--

& Ivanka ladies apparel.

There will be an Armed services

Playland where you can ride in 

real tanks & shoot real guns

while the kiddies can ride on

rockets, humvies & fighter planes

on the military merry-go-rounds.

There will be 50 Trump gift shops

where his fan base can purchase

I don’t have small anythings,

I have a good brain.

Make America great again,

Grab them by the pussy ,

I’ll tell you at the time.

Mexicans are rapists,

Muslims are terrorists,

That makes me smart

ball caps, underwear, & sweatshirts.

To enter the Fun House,

you will walk through Trump’s

huge clown face;

inside after being vetted

one can buy KKK gear

& David Duke books.

There will be Republican elephant rides

shooting galleries with Hispanic, Islamic,

& Democratic targets, Obama & Hillary

Halloween masks, a Trump Tower ride

that will have a rotating VIP restaurant

atop it.  

Billionaires get in for free,

the rest of us will pay

500 bucks per day. 

I suspect ten thousand of his

followers will show up during 

the first week, & he will tweet

it was ten million.

The theme park Trump dreamed of,

that taxpayers paid for,

will go bankrupt after six months,

and mysterious fires will consume 

it all and Trump will sue for the insurance.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Inexorable

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Inexorable

“Adapt or perish, now as ever, is nature’s

inexorable imperative.”--H.G. Wells.

Deep

into the Yukon,

within

the northern-most 

forests,

in every

snow-choked

canyon,

burrow & cave,

beneath

crag & evergreen

spires,

Spring

is stabbing

into the icy

heart of winter--

and all

the spawn

of gestation

ready

themselves,

eager

to blossom

and be

born.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Blackthorne--Scene Sixty.

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Blackthorne

Cinemagenic Sixty

Closure

“Closure is bullshit.”--James Ellroy.

1(sound cue)  piano & violin.

2(medium close-up) Buck: Oh yes, I assure you that

we do have some unfinished business.

3(medium wide-shot) behind Buck & the Eagle. 

Bronson & the three wranglers were now mounted, 

but Thor still stood next to his mount, the raw anger 

evident in his brows & forehead.

4(crane three-shot) Thor, Buck, & Johnny--all were

standing like pugnacious ramrods.

5(sound cue) French horn & jazz brushing.

6(two-shot) Bronson leaning in toward Thor: Come 

on, brother. Plant that skinny butt of yours in saddle 

leather.

7(medium close-up) Thor: Cash, I really don’t like 

this raggedy-assed pair of trouble-makers.

8(two-shot) Buck & the Eagle reciprocating the 

negativity.

9(close-up) Bronson : Hell, you don’t like anybody. 

Come on, shake a boot.

10(medium close-up) Thor stiffly stepped up onto his 

black, his eyes like coal: I’ll be seeing you, Mr. Buck.

You two are a couple of lucky assholes today.

11(sound cue) saxophone & tambourine.

12(two-shot) Buck, over Thor’s shoulder, through a 

smirk: I think the lady french-kissed us all.

13(two-shot) Bronson spun his Palomino around, 

flashing a stern look at his brother; I said, let’s ride.

14(medium wide-shot) Thor responded by rowelling 

his black mount into an immediate full gallop.

15(close-up) Bronson spiked his silver spurs into the 

golden sides of his stallion

16(sound cue) fast guitar strumming.

17(overhead crane medium wide-shot) The old 

wrangler started off next--the two ropes looped around 

Chatawa’s neck were double-lashed to his saddle-horn. 

The dappled stud strained & struggled against the lead. 

The other two pokes took up the rear, riding off without 

looking back.

18(stationary medium wide shot) 200 yards beyond 

the camp as we see the Bronsons galloping hard 

toward the lens--with Thor barely in the lead.

19(sound cue) pounding horse’s hooves over a 

clarinet.

20(hold the stationary shot) as Thor & Cash fill up 

the frame with their gallop-then ride over the top of it

21(overhead drone shot) tracking with the strung-out

five riders.

22(medium close-up) Cheewa chasing after the two 

drag riders barking & nipping at their horses hooves.

23(reverse two shot) Buck and Johnny, backs to the 

camera, standing and watching as the bellicose 

bunch were far enough away that they traveled on 

silent hooves, the steeds being swallowed up by a 

rust-gray dust cloud. 

24(sound cue) Indian seed rattle & blues guitar riff.

25( jump-cut to) a pair of prairie dogs, craning their

necks watching the wranglers depart.

26(sound cue) big angry dog barking over branch 

flute.

  Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub OLN

Dreaming Large

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Dreaming Large

“My dream got bigger & bigger--and the box

got bigger than the message--than the Gospel.”

--Jim Bakker.

As a younger more gregarious man, I

     dreamed of putting together an Artist’s

         Colony, where fellowship, love, & creativity

     could flourish & co-mingle--but not in

an old warehouse firetrap like in the

urban artist clusters I had seen,

No, mine would be out in Puget

Sound on one of the smaller

islands, sprawling over a 100

acres, rife with wonderful forest

trails, walking distance to the

sparkling inland sea. The artist’s homes would

                       include dome houses, domiciles

                   built underground with sod & moss

               roves, mountain man log cabins, and

             ambitious tree houses with spider web

           catwalks connecting them, each with its

   own studio for sculptors, painters, musicians

actors, dancers, & writers.

My house would be on a high bluff overlooking

the colony, with a clear view over the top of the

pungent conifers of a lighthouse nearby, that

would be festooned with red & white stripes.

It would be 20,000 square feet,

    all on one level, with 15’ cathedral

        ceilings, several tall stained glass picture

                      windows with their brightly colored

                      depictions of orca pods, Roosevelt

                      elk, bald eagles, seahawks & gulls.

                       black bear, timber wolves, forests 

                       and beaches.

My wife and I would have a palatial bed chamber,

with separate bathrooms connected to a spa, 

cavernous walk-in closets, a canopy bed with

red & black velvet curtains, a tall functional fire

place, two red leather love seats, with no TV’s.

The monstrous kitchen    would have several kinds

of ovens, a plethora of     hanging brass pots and

pans, and a dinette          table for immediate 

family that adjoins            a huge King Arthur style

dining hall, complete        with several hand-carved

oak sideboards and a       humungous carved redwood

dining table that could      seat 30 guests. On the blond

paneled walls would         hang the Buttkus family crest,

sent from a German         castle, dozens of authentic

samurai & European        cavalry ornamental swords

& spears, interspersed     with weapons of the American

Old West, from buffalo      rifles to carbines.

Of course, there will be

a library laden with books,

movies, and music, adjoined

to a home theater with a

20 feet screen & Dolby

surround sound, that could

seat 50 people, with a glass

cabinet by the door that displays

real Oscars, Emmys, & SAG awards.

The roof of my rambling home would be fashioned like

a tall ship, with railings. thick masts, red & black sails

and large flags. Rising majestically out of the center of

the roof would be my personal circular Tower of Silence,

an apartment perched a hundred feet above the trees,

fitted with an elevator, the old fashioned kind taken from

a pioneer building in Seattle, with flashing lights atop it

to alert planes at night & a cell tower to power all the Wi-

Fi wonders below. This is my retreat,

                                         my office,

                                         my eagle’s nest,

                                         my den in the clouds,

                                         my writer’s space.

                                         my meditation space,

                                         my home for Muses,

                                         my cradle of creativity.

What good is great wealth--

if you don’t share with friends and

loving family?

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Go Deep

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Go Deep

“In a forest, there is a quality of air emanating from

old trees that wonderfully changes & renews a

weary spirit.”--Robert Louis Stevenson.

In California, I hear, shinrin-oku has

    become a fad, replacing yoga & TM; one

            can sign up for week-long health adventures

    booked with certified “forest therapists” as

guides, for a mere thousand dollars.

The stats are out there; it seems that

87% of our time is spent indoors,

6% is spent in enclosed vehicles;

leaving only 7% for being outdoors.

It seems that forest-bathing can

reduce stress hormones and boost

our immune system.

I used to be a hiker, but I never did it as an athletic

pursuit. The deeper into the forest I traveled, the

slower I walked, breathing pure oxygen right at the

source, from the majestic canopy of trees towering

above me, feeling relaxation moving up from my

strolling ankles, listening carefully to the sibilant

silence--punctuated by wandering wind & birdsong,

stooping gently to touch bark, moss, mushrooms

and wildflowers--hearing a chorus of trees bending

& rubbing together, waltzing in the soft breeze, then

lying on a verdant mat of clover & sweet grass, closing

my eyes, only aware of the shimmering hum of thick

leaves, and the angelic stirring of bird & insect wings

massaging the air into a lullaby.

There is no mystery to this--when my soul becomes 

too dark & my heart too heavy, I just spend a day

burrowed deep into the fellowship of forest--and it

becomes a time of realignment, centering, and

essential reconnection to All That Is. For a time,

when I emerge, I am a better person, refreshed,

refueled & ready to return to my urban immersion.

No one is immune

to stress, so just walk into

forest for succor.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub Haibun

Three Amigos

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Three Amigos 

“It’s true, I am the Ernest Hemingway of 140

characters.”--Donald J. Trump.

It is a modern tragedy that so many people seem to

be bored with History. History departments are all

but shrinking. Yet, I believe that when history is 

studied diligently, it reveals answers & solutions for

most of our present problems. Rejection of, or apathy

toward its lessons always will/does lead to folly, then

repetition of past mistakes & inevitable chaos.

Today, we are immersed in one of the most unique,

frightening, volatile and dangerous periods in this 

proud country’s 250 year history. Yes, we did survive

the regimes of Richard Nixon & George W. Bush, but

just barely. We still sport our deep scars.

It is essential, in my view, to pay closer attention to the

words of all dictators, demagogues, & dastardly author-

itarians--who seem to rise up first as Populists and

Patriots before they get us in their grip, then gleefully

unleash insane, nearly unimaginable horrors.

                Adolf Hitler

“The great masses of the people will more easily fall

victims to a big lie than to a small one.”

“Strength lies not in defense, but in attack.”

“How fortunate for governments that the people they

administer do not think.”

“Success is the sole earthly judge of right & wrong.”

“The victor is never asked if he told the truth.”

“Who dares to say that I’m not under the special

protection of God?”

“As a Christian, I have no duty to allow myself to be

cheated, but I have a duty to be a fighter for truth.”

“Great liars are also great magicians.”

“Humanitarianism is the expression of stupidity 

& cowardice.”

“If you tell a big enough lie and tell it frequently enough,

it will always be believed.”

“All propaganda has to be popular and has to

accommodate itself to the comprehension of the least

intelligent whom it seeks to reach.”

                   Benito Mussolini

“Let us have a dagger between our teeth, a bomb

in our hands, & an infinite scorn in our hearts,”

“The key to the Fascist Doctrine is its conception of

the State. The State has to be absolute--individuals

& groups are relative.”

“I do not believe in perpetual peace. War is to a real

man what maternity is to a woman.”

“The Liberal State is but a mask, behind which is no

face--it’s a scaffolding, behind which there is no building.”

“Democracy is beautiful in theory, but in actual practice

it is a fallacy.”

“The truth is that most men are tired of liberty.”

“All must be within the State, nothing outside the State.

and nothing standing against the State.”

                     Donald J. Trump

“As for ISIS, I would bomb the shit out of them.”

“When you’re famous, you can get away with anything.”

“John McCain is not a hero. I don’t like losers.”

“I know more abut ISIS than the generals know.”

“I have a good brain”

“Actually I have a good hairline.”

“You just grab them by the pussy.”

“It’s a funny thing, but I get along much better with the

middle class and poor people than with rich people.”

“It’s always good to be underestimated.”

“Believe me, I will enforce the law, but at the same time

I will be considerate & compassionate to everyone.”

“No one has more respect for women than I do.”

“When someone challenges me, I fight back--and I can

be brutal, be tough.”

“We all know that politics today is a disgrace. The truth 

is that good people don’t go into government.”

“If you let people just pour into your country, soon you 

don’t have a country.”

“If you need Viagra, you must be with the wrong woman.” 

Sometimes people think

they need change so badly that

they don’t choose wisely.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub MTB