Thursday, January 28, 2021

Good People

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 Good People

“This Civil Rights work is not about those white

people. It is about you; just you.”--Layla F. Saad.

Let us join them, those

bastards, declaring MLK/JFK/KKK

Day. Cleve our nation right down 

the middle; exist in separate

dominions.--Glenn Buttkus.

To be white, straight, or

male or middle class is to be

simultaneously ubiquitous and

invisible.--S.K. Minel.

Next up we could honor

George Washington/Jefferson Davis

on the same day; a two-headed

snake battle flag.--Glenn Buttkus.

Our police force was not

created to serve black Americans;

it was created

to serve white Americans and

police black Americans.--Ijeoma Auo.

We might consider

a Lincoln/Hitler Day, a top hat

with a swastika on it.--Glenn Buttkus.

White entitlement

means Black Americans have to

thank Whitey for

not being as fucked up

as they could be.--Kiese Laymon.

We must not forget

Labor/Auschwitz Day; Arbeit

Macht Frei mother fuckers.

--Glenn Buttkus.

Admit that White is

more than a color. The world is

an amusement park, and your

white skin buys your way into it.

--A.S. Ting.

It’s time to celebrate

Christmas/9-11, where we honor

both the Crusades

and the Crucifixion.--Glenn Buttkus.

When you have only

experienced privilege, then equality

feels like oppression.--Adam Rutherford.

We need to create

Valentine’s/Holocaust Day, exchanging

hearts with ashes in them.--Glenn Buttkus.

If the problem of

racism is ever solved

where will future 

politicians get the fodder for

the masses that brought them to power?

--Lonis Yako.

How about we go for

Thanksgiving/Appomattox Day,

where re-enactors can portray

Lee & Grant splitting a turkey.

--Glenn Buttkus.

It’s a terrible thing

to hide your racism in order

to stay safe, be liked

and comfortable while black people

are suffering and dying.--Glennon Doyle.

And hell, let’s do

Hanukkah/Easter on which

the Easter Bunny

could be crucified and eaten.

--Glenn Buttkus.

Glenn Buttkus


Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub

Monday, January 25, 2021

There Be Oz

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 There Be Oz

“Common folk live and die unnoticed. Folks of any

worth are the unusual ones.”--Scarecrow  


the winter

of my life

slogs along,

and I

approach the

Exit, the


is 76 years

behind me.


the maternal


was closed

for business

eons ago.

The actual way

to Transition,

beyond the veil,

is not paved

with yellow bricks.

Glenn Buttkus


Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub

Wednesday, January 20, 2021

Blackthorne Episode 128

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Cinemagenic 128


“Regret is a form of punishment itself.”

--Nouman Ali Khan.

1(sound cue) cello

2(three-shot) And now him! Hop sputtered, spinning

around to face them, his index finger pointed like a

pistol between Buck’s eyes. First Thor, and now him!

3(medium close-up) Salina: Can’t help myself. I like

the bad ones. They are more honest with a woman.

Hop: Christ Almighty. You are the only decent woman

in this whole goddamn town, the only skirt worth

looking at and pursuing. And you sift through the

gutter to find a man.

Salina: No one prevented you from looking

elsewhere. That was your choice.

She reached into her bag and found a new swab.

She dipped the swab in the pan of hot water on the

stove. Returning to Buck’s side, she touched his

chin. Buck was busily watching Hop, his eyes were

smoldering. She reached around the side of his face

and dabbed at the bullet crease at his temple.

4(sound cue) piano and banjo.

5(one-shot) Hop slammed his hat on the desk.

Hell--I’m sorry, really sorry. I’m such an asshole. I

must be drunk. I promised myself I would never

say shit to you about my feelings.

6(three-shot) Salina. I’m not blind, Joe. I knew how

you felt. She scrapped some dried blood out of 

Buck’s eyebrow with her fingernail.

Hop awkwardly stared at the floor.

Salina: I could be your friend if you like.

Hop put his hat back on, and cleared his throat.

Alright--that would be--good. Let’s move on.

Things will work out.

Buck, nodding, Hope you’re right. There’s been a

lot of blood under the bridge tonight.

Salina opened Buck’s shirt and began to clean his

shoulder wound.

Hop: I think it’s time for you to get back to your cell.

Buck: They will be back.

Salina was now bandaging the shoulder wound.

Hop: You pay that no never mind. They won’t get

past me. Beside, whoever sent those bastards is

running short of men. We saw to that real proper.

He’ll have to send to Silver City to get a dozen

more. So I think things will stay quiet for the rest

of the night.

7(sound cue) harmonica and fiddle.

Salina replaced the top on a bottle of iodine. 

Finished, she began to pack up the bag.

Both men silently watched her.

Hop, speaking first: You look like you could use

a good dose of shuteye.

Salina hugged Buck. As he held her, he could feel

her breasts pushing against him, boring through

his cotton shirt. She patted the pistol in the back

of his pants, while stirring the pistol in front. She

turned to leave.

Hop: If Henry stops back, we’ll let him know that

you went home.

Salina kissed Buck with her eyes, and closed the

door behind her. Hop stared at the steel plate in the

center of the door, then without looking up, pointed

to the rear cell. Buck walked back into the shadows

of the cell block.

8(medium close-up) Hop: The casket maker, you

know, that skinny cousin of Mateo’s, is going to be

one busy bean-eater. Eighteen men in one night.

I haven’t seen carnage like this since I was in

the Cavalry.

Buck (as Voice-Over) Got into a few scraps with

the natives, did you?

Hop: Yeah, in my 20 years I saw a few big battles.

9(close up) Buck: I Still think you ought to give me a 

gun to even up the odds a bit.

Hop: (as Voice-Over) You know how I feel about that.

Buck: This last fracas didn’t change anything?

10(close-up) Hop: No!

11(sound cue) guitar and saxophone.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub OLN

Tuesday, January 19, 2021

Oh Darkness, Darkness

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 Oh Darkness, Darkness

“Darkness, darkness, long and lonesome, take

away my pain. I have felt the edge of sadness.

I have known the depth of fear.”--Robert Plant.

Pandemic just used to be distant words on the

tattered pages of history--global catastrophe from

centuries past. In the third indigo year of the Trump

Presidency, only a few foresaw the planet-wide

crisis looming. 

Less than a dozen people came down with Covid-19

just up the road from me in WA state. Our idiot-in-chief

claimed in would disappear in a month. The moment

Trump uttered that blasphemy, I freaked. I visualized

God becoming outraged. Trump’s moronics had to be

smitten for sure, but Jehovah’s anger was molten and

it enflamed and enslaved a planet with the virus.

Meanwhile all the ignorance, lies, and evil that was

promulgated by Trumpism drove a searing wedge into

the heart of our nation. Nearly half of us resided in a

false narrative, a counter-dimension, a separate

reality. Trump became King of Looney Tunes Land.

Reinforced for years by alternate facts, distortions,

delusions, cursed lies and insane conspiracy

theories, the K.K.K, Proud Boys, Boogaloo Boys,

Oath keepers, Qanon, Nazis, Birchers, and holdout

Jim Crowers brought out the chains, bullwhips,

lynching ropes, metal baseball bats and MAGA hats.

Trump drooled with joy as he incited them, cried for

insurrection, stirred the fabricated turds, spewing vile

lies, and pointing the way down Pennsylvania Avenue

to the Capital Building, telling them he would be with

them, that he loved them. Soon we heard chanting,

Hang Mike Pence and Kill Nancy Pelosi. Stoked with

the Kool Aid, the blood thirsty mob stormed the 

Capital. Five people died. Democracy was held

hostage for two terrifying hours.

Yes, they impeached Trump for the second time, and

his dismal disgrace will forever darken the future 

pages of History. Now, here we are, on the final day 

of his infamous lunatic reign, preparing for his

flood of cronie pardons, and being forced to

provide him with a majestic send-off at joint-

base Andrews, with a fucking red carpet, a

shiny military band, and a 21-gun salute as

he boards Air Force One to fly to Florida.

What the son-of-a-bitch deserves is to be 

handcuffed and muzzled, and like his hero

Mussolini, be dragged behind a Hum Vee all

the way to Mari Lago. 

Regardless, tomorrow will be the first day

of breathing untainted air, of sanity, dignity,

liberty and shining Hope. Joe Biden has

inherited a ReTrumplican shit show, a plethora

of problems, and a country, and a world in

terrible crisis and chaos. Yet, hey, I’m smiling,

and so should you.

Glenn Buttkus 

Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub

Monday, January 18, 2021

Fun House Blues

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Fun House Blues

“You ask me to write you a poem, and I pen you

an empty ocean as you run away.”--Janim Disie. 

My father was a petty criminal. He went to prison

for robbing a gas station when I was ten. He was

killed in jail in a dispute over cigarettes. My mother

was an addict and a prostitute, who abandoned my

older sister and I when I was twelve. My sister and I

lived on the streets until she was murdered while

turning a twenty dollar trick. 

After foster homes, I went out on my own at 16. I

joined a band of car thieves. I could break into a car, 

hot wire it and be gone in three minutes. I was driving

a 700 hp. Dodge Charger when it took the cops two

hours to run me down. I ended up in the hospital

handcuffed to the bed. You know, sometimes the great

bones of my life feel so heavy. 

Glenn Buttkus


Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub