Black and Blues

painting by Dusty Jonakin.

Black and Blues

“I never had the blues--no, the blues

always had me.”--Brownie McGhee.

You know they say

that a black snake moans

when it hears a mess

of thumping, banging blues.

Purists, piously munching pieces

of pigeon pot pie, would argue

that a snake can only hiss--

but I would be remiss

not to strongly disagree,

for when that silver slide bar zings

along those six cat gut strings, 

I tell you 

that old black snake moans,

like a gambler shaking his bones,

like ice cream without its cones,

like a scream the bitch actually owns,

like punks without their phones,

like a blade a thug will hone--

it just coils there all alone,

bobs its head back 

and damned sure moans;

joined by a hound dog howling,

and a tomcat screeching,

and a church mouse praying,

and a harnessed horse haranguing!

Hell’s fire,

you know it’s true--

banging blues always

does that to you.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Opposites Repel

Painting by Samiran Sarker

Opposites Repel

“I like nonsense--it wakes up the

brain cells.”--Dr. Seuss.

Nobody get get through this life

without encountering a plethora

of adages. Mostly

they state the obvious. but

not today.

For God‘s sake, leap before you look.

If you are ever lost, hesitate a while and

check the damn landmarks.

Light hands produce way too much work.

Too many broths will confuse the cooks.

Way too many Indians with no sign of any chiefs.

Free lunches are such things of daydreams.

Beware the folly of returning gifts to a Greek.

Never judge a cover by its book.

Cut twice--measure once.

A falling man should hit the ground with pride.

Always check a gift horse’s mouth, or you might

get screwed.

If it is free in life, too often it’s not the best.

Remember it’s a man who makes the clothes.

It is never better than when you’re habitually late.

You will never find it as you seek it.

You certainly can be hurt by the mysterious unknown.

Early worms always evade silly birds.

You can teach old tricks to a new dog.

A bush in the hand is worth two birds 

in a tree.

Do not hatch your chickens before they

are counted.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Tears of a Dove

image from pixel.com

Tears of a Dove

“In Spring, the earth is like a child

who knows poems by heart.”

--Rainer Maria Rilke

Patriotism,

       Loyalty,

               Fidelity,

all things we cling to

within our neighborhoods,

                 schools,

                 cities,

                 counties,

                 states,

                 sports teams,

                 favorite pubs,

                 and countries;

complicated by our gender,

                               sexuality,

                               religion,

                               and political bent--

but how about we are all One--

all loving,

all related,

one homogenous family? 

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub Q

Blackthorne--Scene 77

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Straw Jesus

painting by Candido Portinari


Straw Jesus

“We must all make due with the rags of love we

find on the scarecrow of humanity.”

--Angela Carter.

Christ-like, here I am,

nailed to a wooden cross

made from broken barn boards.

I’ve got vine maple stick legs

shoved into worn out boots;

laces untied and tongues flapping

in the fertilized fecund breeze.

My faded and holy bibbed overalls

are held up by one good denim strap

and a large rusty safety pin.

The strap sports a brass clip, stamped

“can’t bust ‘em”. My red plaid shirt

is torn at the shoulder, and is missing

a pocket. My empty head is a taped-up

soccer ball, and my face is painted

onto a flour sack pulled tight.

My hat, like my torso, is comprised 

of sad sinuous straw.

I’m supposed to be the fierce guardian

of a vast corn field, but around here all

the crows are smarter than I am. 

They flock to me, perching on my 

outstretched arms and battered hat.

If I only had a brain, I might be able

to figure out how to properly scare

my friendly murder of crows.

One bright day while was just hanging

around contemplating my predicament,

a young girl in a blue dress, accompanied

by a tin man woodsman, strolled by. She

told me her named was Dorothy, and that

she was on a quest--and she asked me if

I wanted to join her. Since I was such a

failure in the field, I jumped at the chance

for some adventure; little did I know

what I was in for.

Flying monkeys came

by night, sent by a witch for

nefarious deeds.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Stridulation

image from pinterest.com

Stridulation

“I never kill insects--karma is everything.”

--Holly Valance.

After a Kafka nightmare, one could awaken as

a cockroach. After a honied summer dream, one

could go all Zen, and awaken as a cricket--but 

stay out of Asia where deep fried crickets are 

snacks. Gosh, you could go on a picnic with your

grasshopper cousins. After the feed, you could

gather up a couple dozen friends, get some 

mini-bats and play English cricket. You could

apply for a job selling wireless phones. You

could become a Disney celebrity, hosting his

show along with Tinkerbell, learning the lyrics

to “When You Wish Upon A Star”. I first met

Jiminey in 1950, watching a 12” round TV

screen.

Karmically, it could be interesting to be a cricket,

rather than a rock, or a tree, or a slug. You would

live a jam-packed short life without emotion. You

could choose from 900 species. You could live

about anywhere, as long as it’s warm. Sex would

be your primary focus. If you were male, you could

be a wonderful singer in a nightly chorus that 

might make Mormons envious. If you were female,

you could enjoy your control over the drooling

rutting males--as per usual.

Flies lay larva on

the backs of singing crickets;

an insect duo.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

String Theory

image from pinterest.com

String Theory

“The universe is a symphony of strings, and the

mind of God is cosmic music resonating in

11-dimensional hyperspace.”--Michio Kaku.

I have not thought about the Cosmos

for years because of the prevalent Chaos--

it’s completely distracting and all-consuming.

I feel like a person in a terrible car wreck,

forever flipping over & over, topsy-turvy,

like a perpetual motion crazed conundrum.

Do I have enough stamina to survive?

Like a perpetual motion crazed conundrum,

forever flipping over & over, topsy-turvy--

I feel like a person in a terrible car wreck.

It’s completely distracting and all-consuming

for years because of the prevalent Chaos--

I have not thought about the Cosmos.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

I am Spartacus

image from thetelevisionpilot.com

I am Spartacus

“We don’t stop going to school when we

graduate.”--Carol Burnett

My  school days

were like being

a worker bee--

I attended 10 elementary schools,,

                   3 junior high schools,

                   3 high schools and

                   3 colleges.

We moved around a lot--mostly because of

my stepfather’s gypsy spirit & his bad temper.

Six months was a long time for him to keep

a job. He was a millwright, and he would find

a new job quickly, but it was always across

town in a new neighborhood.

We were renters,

ruthless and rootless:

“Let somebody else worry

about the damned plumbing.

For me, school became

a competitive arena, always

                                 the new kid

                                 in the front row

                                 with my hand up;

having to establish my self

                                  in short order.

Life was tough

around the edges,

and school became

both arena & sanctuary.

I emerged as a type-A personality,

an honor student,

a debater and poet;

bellicose and compassionate,

with one hand extended,

the other with a clenched fist;

both gladiator and seeker.

Fox sat outside the

chicken yard, until he learned

to open the gate.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Box You !

*

painting by Jeni Lee

Box You !

“The irony of sensory deprivation tanks is that in

order to think outside the box, you have to get 

inside of one.”--Ryan Lily

Joe: Hey,

whatta’ you know,

whatta’ you say?

Judy: I know

next to nothing,

and I say that sucks.

Joe: Who put

a bug

up your ass?

Judy: If you were here,

I would box your ears !

Joe: Bummer!

Too bad,

so sad--

adios!

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Blackthorne--Sc76

painting by Travis Knight

Blackthorne

Cinemagenic Seventy-Six

Bravo

“I didn’t want to come up with some generic 

Johnny Bravo type name. I’m not that cool.”

--Colin Hanks

1(overhead wide drone shot) the town crusts and

dusty range riders peeled off the corral rails, with

Johnny walking toward them.

2(medium close ups/jump cut) the crowd:

“Great Ride !”  “Fucking wonderful !”  “Knocked

my damn boots off !”  “That’s showing him !”

“You busted him good !”

3(two-shot) the Eagle walked up to Cash Bronson.

Cash held out his hand, as big as Johnny’s, and

the Indian shook it firmly.

4(over Johnny’s shoulder) Cash: Jesus, let me pay

you! That’s the best damned ride I’ve seen in years.

He must have shaken your guts out.”

5(over Bronson’s shoulder) Johnny smiled a little:

“No thank-you, Mr. Bronson. I don’t work for you

any more. I work out at Antlered Buck.”

6(sound cue) piano chord.

7(close-up) Bronson, his good cheer fading.

8(medium close-up) Johnny: “Tell you what, El Hefe,

if you really want to pay me, please keep your 

money, but make sure that your men treat this

horse with respect. Ryker can saddle break him

now, but have him use a gentle hand.”

9(two-shot) over Johnny’s shoulder--Bronson:

“Sounds fair to me.” 

10(medium wide shot) Bronson turning to Ryker, who

was picking up some gear, and trying not to

participate. Bronson: “Do you understand, Ryker?

We want this bronco jughead gentled enough that

Pauly can ride him”.

11(close-up) Ryker, his face turning red: “Yes, sir.”

12(medium close up) Buck: “Do you really need this

horse?”, asking quietly.

13(three-shot) Bronson: “Ah, Mister Buck,” with a

smug smile starting to work at the corners of his

mouth,”Here you are, the big bad stranger, returned

at last. You certainly got my attention.”

Buck: “Did I?”

Bronson: “This is kind of a small town, Not

much goes on here that I don’t hear about.”

Buck: “I’m sure that’s true.”

Bronson: “Like I heard this morning that you

had a little trouble over at my place the other

day. Raised quite a ruckus.”

14(two-shot) Buck, over Bronson’s shoulder:

“I wouldn’t call that trouble.”

15(sound cue) banjo & harmonica.

16(close-up) Bronson: “Christ--you scared the 

hell out of half my girls, shot one of my casino

guards, and tossed my little brother out of a

second story window...and you don’t call that

trouble? Sure, there were plenty of

witnesses, but we had to cancel your visit with

the welcome wagon!”

17(close-up) Buck: “No one got killed.”

18(two-shot) Bronson: “Yes, that’s true--not in my

place anyways.”

Buck: “What are you saying?”

Bronson: “I’m saying that for a fellow whose only

been in town a short while, and who claims he 

wants to settle down and live here, you certainly

are a hellraiser.”

19(close up) Paul Bronson, his expression anxious,

angry, but plagued with a coward’s anxiety.

20(close up) Thor Bronson, his face stone hard, 

his eyes still blazing, his mouth a tight smear.

21(sound cue) branch flute.

21(close up) Johnny Eagle, exhausted but pleased

with himself.

22(two-shot) Buck, over Bronson’s shoulder: “I’d

say that most of that ruckus was just a misunder-

standing. I’m still trying to get my bearings. I’ve

been gone quite a spell--and I just wasn’t used

to the way you run things.”

23(close up) Bronson: “So, would you say that

now you are getting used to it?”

24(close-up) Buck, after a small pause: “ Yeah,

I’m starting to catch on.

25(two-shot) Bronson, with a hard smile: “Hell,

I almost like you. Just come to me if you have

any questions.”

26(close-up) Buck: “What about the horse?”

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Phantasm

painting by Tes Teach 

Phantasm

“Give air to the phantoms of art, and all those

dreams that would be so beautiful if they could

come true.”--Luigi Pirandello.

When introspection is employed,

we can see those things

unseen by others;

like faith,

which is a cornerstone,

a stanchion

that provides a sturdy base

for our panting pursuit

of spiritual/personal/cosmic

truth.

Truth is yet another unseen

vagabond that manifests itself

under many guises.

Past lives, after life. the future--

these are all nothing but

rambunctious wisps

of imaginative dream mists--

yet they can be viewed clearly

by your Higher Self.

Emotions are conniving catalysts, unseen 

powerful phantoms, whose influences, edicts, 

and machinations are acted out by every one 

of us; with                                      every breath,

coloring                                   every moment.

It is postulated that Earth is one of the only 

planes of existence where emotions are

allowed to be expressed.

Those among us who’ve encountered aliens

always report that the extraterrestrials seem

to have dead eyes, like a shark’s, devoid of

emotion.

Midst mountain meadows,

Sasquatch can be heard, but it

is rarely ever seen.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub MTB

Final Solution

poster from pinterest.com

Final Solution

“The genius of Einstein led to Hiroshima.”

--Pablo Picasso.

During the last months of WWII, taking Okinawa 

was a costly endeavor. Warren Stolhand, my

father-in-law, fought there. He was a medic in

the Marines. When it was over, his outfit had

suffered 90% casualties. Over 21,000 Japanese

soldiers refused to surrender--many of them

committed suicide rather than facing defeat. He

was home in Texas on leave, when he got new

orders--shipping him off for invasion of the home

islands of Japan. He was on a troop ship when

they got word that an atomic bomb had been

dropped on Hiroshima.

On a steamy bright morning, August 6, 1945, 

Paul Tibbets, Jr. flew his Boeing Superfortress,

the Enola Gay, from an island in the Marinas,

and dropped the first nuclear weapon, Little Boy,

a uranium gun-type bomb, on the city of

Hiroshima. Three days later we dropped Fat Man.

a plutonium implosion bomb on Nagasaki.

It was estimated that if we would have carried out

Operation Downfall, the invasion of Japan, the 

Allies would have lost over a million men. The 

Japanese warlords had prepared the entire 

population of Japan to fight to the death. To this

day, there is still a debate over the rights and

wrongs of our actions.

Birds of prey have no

choice; they are nature’s killers--

warriors are the same.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Murder Most Kind

image from indiamart.com

Murder Most Kind

“The bible teaches us murder, for belief in a cruel

God makes a cruel man.” --Thomas Paine.

Whether it be blackberry blossoms

festooned with nasty thorns,

or a movie star’s feckless children

cashing in the family moniker

like a golden casino chip,

or a politician’s pretentious prodigy

strutting short on the world stage,

or a rosey-cheeked nephew stopping

by on a break from college,

or just something honeysuckle in the air

that renews your desperate need to fly

in your fevered dreams,

or even those damn weeds snaking

from the fissures they created

in your driveway --

once the days have slid past the Ides

and landed on March 21st,

an inexorable metamorphosis overrides

the dun doldrums of winter’s blight;

from the sad roots of dead tendrils

new life stirs, as Spring stabs

its stamen into the heart

of ailing Winter,

injecting fecund messengers

that will awaken frozen memories.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub MTB