Thursday, July 29, 2021

Mirror Mask

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Mirror Mask

“When a monkey looks into a mirror, it sees a

monkey “--Malcolm de Chazal

Human nature rings always true.

Extroverts push for a coup.

Introverts waste time feeling blue.

Which one are you? Which one are you?

Personality forms early.

Some of us come off as burly.

While others seem so girly.

Teeth so pearly, teeth so pearly.

Some can become such a bully.

Conscience never there fully.

Some make you laugh, acting so silly.

Don’t be pushy, don’t be pushy.

Maternal instinct is the best,

not stronger in the east or west;

their hearts built like a robin’s nest.

She has the zest, she has the zest.  

Glenn Buttkus  


Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub

Tuesday, July 27, 2021

King of Fools

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King of Fools

“No, you can’t always get what you want, but if you

try sometimes you get what you need.”

--the Rolling Stones.

Nixon had

an enemies list.

Jane Fonda

was on it,

Elvis was not.

He didn’t know me.

If he had, I’m certain

I would have

made the list.

In the late 60’s,

most of us hated Millhouse.

We liberals flocked together,


that the enemy of my enemy

was my friend.

Later we suffered through

eight Republican years

with George W. Bush.

But Junior was a dunce,

and you shouldn’t hate

a disabled person.

Dick Cheney pulled the strings,

and he was worth hating.

But then our worst nightmare

descended upon us, 

and we endured 

four frightening fucking years

with Trump; disguised

as a Republican,

Little Benito turned out

to be such a loathsome troll

that he even nullified

the old adage about

keeping your friends close,

and your enemies closer--

because the Donald

never had any friends,

just a line of employees,

ass-lickers, sycophants,

and red-necked sheep.

He has proudly betrayed

everyone who ever got close to him,

playing the victim, always, always

devoid of blame. 

His love affair with himself

has contributed to

the death of tens of thousands

of his followers, a student

of Stalin; he won’t be satisfied

until he has killed millions.

His latest super-spreader rally

in Florida is a case in point.

Yet millions more

kiss his ring, anoint and worship him.

Go figure.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub

Monday, July 26, 2021

Hemingway A.D.

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 Hemingway A.D.

“The world is a fine place, worth fighting for, and I 

hate very much having to leave it.”

--Ernest Hemingway.

Of all the Hemingway

novels made

into films,

my favorite is


(1977), based on Hemingway’s

posthumously published

1970 novel.

George C. Scott

as artist Thomas Hudson,

embodied the quintessential 

Hemingway character,

both heroic and tragic.



never finished it.

Glenn Buttkus


Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub

Tuesday, July 20, 2021

Daughters of Zeus

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Daughters of Zeus

“Muses work all day long and then at night get

together and dance.”--Edgar Degas.

Sturdy Calliope, twas you

who accompanied me to the mountain top,

and challenged me to compose

my epic existential Western Cinemagenic saga


Years have clicked past

and only now does

it approach a conclusion.

Oh, my Clio, your passion

for the past hooked me early on,

and it is firmly anchored

in 73 BC during the Servile Wars,

the Slave Rebellion against Rome

led by Spartacus, a Thracian

much like your self and sisters.

You introduced me to

Howard Fast, Thomas Paine, 

and Dalton Trumbo, all who became

brothers and fathers to me.

Euterpe, you flighty lass,

you bathed me in Native American

branch flutes, and Japanese reed flutes,

as I meditate and create. I even

married a flutist.

Melpomene, you dusky wench,

you come to me drenched in incense

during nightmares, hurricanes, soon

after the deaths of family and friends,

and the blink of eclipses of the sun.

Only your jade eyes pierce

the burka of your darkness.

My fetching Erato,

I do adore thee,

in lust and love and heartbreak,

from sonnet to sorrow,

while rosebuds and red panties

fall quietly to the floor,

and there are three locks on the door.

Yes, you tickle me silly Thalia,

making me chuckle, chortle and guffaw,

as my frisky poetics morph

into nonsense, satire, and burlesque,

gripped by a Commedia state of mind,

when the Mechanicals spread their farce,

and Nature herself can take a joke.

Oh, my Terpsichore,

you get my heels tapping

as the bombastic beat of the blues,

jazz and rock jerk my words

into sweet rhythms and meaningful motion,

as my magnificent messages

become inexorable.

You sit alone, dearest Polyhymnia,

detached and secluded, dressed

in shining white like a fairy queen,

whelped by Mother Mary to become

a good Wiccan Witch. You whisper

of way stations, brotherhood and

ascended masters, stripped naked of

all religions, so sacred to me.

Then there is you, Urania, my sexiest companion,

not bound by atmosphere, or edict, or 

excommunication, wearing a dazzling crown

of a trillion zillian galaxies, while Branson and Bezos

lick the udder of outer space, while Flash and Buck

and John Carter laugh at the skeptics, while string

theory and quantum physics gyrate in my head

like sugar plum demons, while my spirit readies

itself for the Great Transition, when it will sprint

toward the Light, quoting Shakespeare, and

singing Joni Mitchell lyrics

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub

Monday, July 19, 2021

Calamity Unleashed

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Calamity Unleashed

“Oh that my grief were thoroughly weighed, and my

calamity laid in the balance together.”--Job 6:2

Dying by the millions, while millions more line up for

the slaughter. The Kraken is amphibious, and

it is legion. We stumbled through the plague year 

2020 like blind mice begging for the poison cool aid.

 Hell, 2021 is half gone, and we witness fear and

ignorance among the vast unvaccinated allowing a

fourth Covid variant to feed upon us unencumbered.

Here is our pink necks, please bite.The planet 

is bleeding out from a trillion cuts. Global Warming is 

creating a Golem from blood and clay.

Trump flourishes. Nazis thrive. Mass shootings

multiply. Republicans lie in plain sight. There are so

many things to be angry about, my tears have fled.

There is no room for sadness within clenched fists

and teeth. So no, I do not weep at the world--I am too 

busy sharpening my oyster knife. 

Glenn Buttkus


Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub

Monday, July 12, 2021

Juke Me Softly


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Juke Me Softly

“My temperature’s risin’. The juke’s blowin’ a fuse.

Roll over Beethoven. Tell Tchaikovsky the news.”

--Chuck Berry.

I knew a cat

called Juke Jones.


and his Lady Jane

would bop for hours

in front of

a juke box.

They also hung out

at Big Mary’s,

a juke joint

down at the end

of Reservation Road.

J.J. never 

seemed to

t  i  r  e.

Glenn Buttkus


Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub