Wingless

image borrowed from dailymail.co.uk

Wingless

“I guess most of us has a bird urge when they look down

heights, a desire to jump, without wings or buoyant sail.”

--Kari Amruta Patil.

For much of my life, I have been OK with heights--

    even though I must say I was intrigued, looking 

          over the edge of high buildings, cliffs, and bridges,

               when I would feel an intense desire to leap off, just

          for the fun, the excitement, a sort of avian madness.

    I also noticed that my feet would tingle strongly

at such times--

                               but I was never comfortable in high places,

                          was aways envious of those among us with a

                     head for heights--Mohawk Indian steeplejacks,

                                                 mountain climbers,

                                                 hot air balloonists,

                                                 wind turbine repairmen,

                                                 wing walkers & pilots,

                                                 tightrope & trapeze performers,

                                                 bridge painters, and

                                                 skyscraper window washers.

About three decades ago I began to develop weak knees & 
ankles, experiencing poor balance issues; about the same
time that I quit having flying dreams--you know, where
one just leaps into the air, stretches out their arms &
begins flying, soaring over the trees & buildings. I
certainly was sad to lose that aspect of dreamscape.

Soon after that I began having bouts with vertigo whenever 
I just glanced at things near high places. If I’m driving, I
have to shift my focus to the road directly in front of me. If
I’m walking, it nearly stops me in my tracks. I once tried to
walk across a deserted railroad bridge. You could look down
hundreds of feet between the tracks. Thirty feet onto it, I felt
suddenly paralyzed, & had to crawl back to safety.

I’m told that this is my body compensating for my 
proprioceptive dysfunction, that presently I am now a part of
the 2% of the population with Acrophobia--just driving over
the Tacoma Narrows bridges makes me grit my teeth.

Though my fear of heights

is not extreme, it really

can be quite bothersome.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

                          

Tao of Glenn

image of me--1980.

Tao of Glenn

“Trying to understand is like straining through muddy

water. Be still & allow the mud to settle.”--Lao Tzu.

In the 50’s

the world was

a paradise,

a life,

to be discovered,

then lived.

The 60’s brought me freedoms unimagined.

The 70’s brought

theatre,

dreams,

regrets--

reinvention.

The 80’s offered teaching

and service to others.

The 21st century offered retirement;

thank the gods.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub  

Parched

image from factnet.org

Parched

“We have been living through a time of sorrow. Our

seed remains seed, but our nostrils are dusty.”

--Warren Eyster.

The Earth is in crisis, yet again.

      This time we are calling it Global Warming.

              In our Southwest, rivers are quickly turning into

                          trickle streams, and reservoirs are drying up

              into silty puddles--but damn, too often when it

      does rain, it hits like a torrent, as vehicles hydro--

plane off highways into overflowing ditches, and

terrible flash floods roar down 

dry arroyos seeking victims.

                 Republicans inform us, in their incredible ignorance,

            that we are delusional, that global warming is nothing

         more than a liberal illusion, while we watch glaciers

melt, & Venice & New Orleans lose streets to the sea.

I tell you there is a drought in politics as well,

where anger stimulates stupidity,

where democracy limps like a lame dog,

where liberty is losing its luster,

where fascists, racists, bullies, and bankers seed fear

into a cash crop, reaping millions of misguided supporters,

where justice becomes a slut, bought & sold, as lawyers,

judges, & politicians strut arrogantly like a den of whore

mongers.

When lips are parched,

we pray for rain, but we must

beware of deluge.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub        

    

Beliefs

Myself as Henry Albertson in THE FANTASTICKS.

Beliefs

“I had therefore to remove knowledge, in order

to make room for belief.”--Immanuel Kant.

I sincerely believe that Donald J. Trump is the actual

embodiment of Benito Mussolini, with the sentiments

& trappings of George Wallace--but today, like the

President of Mexico, who first likened him to Hitler,

if Trump somehow becomes the next President, all

of us will have to gird our loins, tone down our rhetoric

and somehow persevere & endure his reign of racist,

isolationist, bullying, arrogance, and sexist dictatorship.

I once passionately believed that I would become a

successful actor, being classically trained & superbly

ego-driven, but alas, though I had the talent & became

a professional for a decade, I never really made a decent

living. So when teaching beckoned, I answered the call.

I really believe that our world is upside down at the moment,

as unreasonable manipulated fear inhabits all of our lives.

Radical Islamic terrorists, like filthy nests of lethal rodents,

will hide & proliferate in plain sight & be very difficult to

eliminate or eradicate. I fear that my young grandchildren

will continue to be affected by this latest Crusade.

I used to believe that one day I would become a famous

writer. I do love to write, & I continue to excel in every form

of writing I have encountered--fiction, non-fiction, short

stories, novels, poetry, essays, reviews, & technical prose,

still favoring writing first in longhand--and yet, my creative

writing has never given me an income, & the hoary dream

of being published has morphed into a 21st century new

form--whereby the sainted pulsating internet allows my words

to visit every corner of the globe, & fellowship with other

writers has replaced avarice & ancient imprinting.

I have always believed that my eye for composition would

enable me to become a terrific photographer, but for most

of my life photography was too expensive for me to explore.

Yet, wonderfully in this digital age my dream has come to

fruition, & the inexorable reaches of the cyber realities have

allowed me to solidly connect with photographers all over

this busy planet, & yes, my own images now daily grace more

than a dozen international photography sites.

Belief is comfort.

though absolute truth can be

elusive & rare.

Glenn Buttkus 

Posted over on dVerse Poets Pub

Octet Bytes

image from falconhobbysupply.com

Octet Bytes

“Fall down seven times--stand up eight.”

--Japanese proverb.

When those damn flames lick

at your feet, just reach for the

fire escape & rise above the fire.

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

Shadow bars on basement windows

only hold back weak dreams, depressed

souls & broken fingers.

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

If one bears witness carefully, they

will notice that some curbs & culverts

make geometric love to sidewalks.

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

A cemetery cross that becomes overgrown

by nature, is happy to reclaim its corpse

beneath the busy loam.

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

The tight reel of angry barbed wire could

still recall the bloodshed in Lincoln County

& the crazed look in Billy’s blue eyes.

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

Fire scars on a burned building run terrible

& deep, beyond reconstructive surgery, 

calling for demolition & rebirth.

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

My father only used the best Bell jars to store

his spare nuts, bolts, & washers, nailing the

lids to an overhead beam.

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

I had the sweetest dream, being very parched

I found a Coke machine in the jungle, & I just

happened to have the right amount of change.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Go to Hel

image from pinterest.com

Go to Hel

“I doubt not but Dyggvi’s corpse Hel does hold,

to whore with him.”--Snorri Sturluson.

Isn’t it fascinating that in Norse mythology, compiled in 

the 13th century, independent of or oblivious to the long 

established Christian concepts of Hades & Satan, they 

dogmatically clung to their own version of the Underworld, 

where Hel was the designated Goddess of Death. Thought 

to be the daughter of Loki, as a punishment for her father’s 

indiscretions, Odin appointed her as the ruler of this realm, 

the Halls of Hel, that was counterpoint to Valhalla.

Described as tall, gaunt and fierce, half of her visage was

like a blue skeleton, the other beautiful flesh. It certainly was

bold, even in mythology, to place a woman on the infamous

throne of Satan. For me, this kind of conflicts and detracts

from the sainted mother mythos that most of us subscribe to.

She lived beneath the

third root of Yggdrasil, and

was death below life.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub

Strings of my Heart

painting by claudia schoenfeld.

Strings of my Heart

“You have to give your whole life to the cello-when I

realized that I went back to the guitar.”--Richie Blackmore.

Yo-Yo Ma, childhood prodigy, has thrilled the world

playing his 1733 Montegnana cello, that is worth

2.5 million dollars, on 90+ albums.

Two Cellos captured my interest a few years ago,

comprised of classically trained cellists, Luka Sulic,

from Slovenia, and Stjepan Hauser from Croatia.

Elton John & I weep upon hearing a cello’s perfection.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at the fabulous dVerse Poets Pub

Today we do a Sevenling regarding music using one of 
Claudia Schoenfeld's paintings as the header image.