butter's stuff: the good, the ugly, and the incomplete

[todski28]

so open i fall out sometimes






pssst, don't tell anyone, but i just tend to write the stuff down then rationalise it all afterwards ... all that thinking and shit? i leave that to people who know what they're doing. i kinda feel my way more. *giggles*

Hahaha, sorry to bring this back up but I was falling in love with your words when I saw this and had to nod, smile and quote the shit out of it

 

[butters]

Hahaha, sorry to bring this back up but I was falling in love with your words when I saw this and had to nod, smile and quote the shit out of it

glad you found stuff you liked, todski, and three years on i may know a bit more than i did then but it's still mostly create first - rationalise after the fact. the exceptions are things like Brothers in arms, as written for the ghazal teach-in - i had to fit the pieces together before getting the meat of the piece down.

 

[Angeline]

Some wonderful writing in this thread Ms. B. Put all these little musings together and poof: a chapbook.

 

[butters]

Some wonderful writing in this thread Ms. B. Put all these little musings together and poof: a chapbook.

maybe one day

guess i'd like to see them altogether (or at least the better ones) in a book of some sort = to leave a copy for each of my 3 kids once i'm off with the fairies....

 

[todski28]

glad you found stuff you liked, todski, and three years on i may know a bit more than i did then but it's still mostly create first - rationalise after the fact. the exceptions are things like Brothers in arms, as written for the ghazal teach-in - i had to fit the pieces together before getting the meat of the piece down.

between this thread, champagnes, the 5 senses, writing live, everyday erotic, the poem a week thread, Sophies skin, amongst others there is some ridiculously good stuff here, not to mention the recent teach ins this forum is just incredible in terms of variance of style, helpful critique, unique and shared insights. I don't know where to start most days.

 

[butters]

between this thread, champagnes, the 5 senses, writing live, everyday erotic, the poem a week thread, Sophies skin, amongst others there is some ridiculously good stuff here, not to mention the recent teach ins this forum is just incredible in terms of variance of style, helpful critique, unique and shared insights. I don't know where to start most days.

and THAT'S why we all love this place - it's different to any other poetry forum i've visited or taken part in. to find it here, amongst all the other forums dedicated to - ahem - other pursuits is a wonderful surprise! i hope you continue to enjoy lit as much as we do, tods

 

[butters]

just cataloguing

sarah's mother

the wheelchair is pristine
folded
pneumatic tyres devoid of grit
protective polythene
still clinging to its seat

sarah's mother
stays mostly on the couch
watching horror shows on tv
of deluge and quakes
tsunamis, freak fires and perfect storms
murders and crashes and chases and courts

as a child
sarah played
on the floor
near her mother
with her dolls and her bricks
and her colouring things

and now she is grown
lives life through her screen
afraid of power cuts
ordering in




the dream of the lavender frisbee

wrap your fingers round my curves
feel my form, my mass, my - need
and then, in one wrist flick, unleash

freed!

send me to skim the lush, the damp
the moistly green and growing leaves
or arc me into blameless sky

i fly

suspended in a timeless space
with weightless, guileless, crafted grace
till, snatched abruptly from the dream

by soggy, noisome jaws

demeaned


alternate version:

the dream of the lavender frisbee

wrap your fingers round my curves
feel my form, my mass, my - need
and then, in one wrist flick, unleash

freed!

send me to skim the lush, the damp
the moistly green and growing ease
or arc me into blameless high

i fly

suspended in a timeless space
with weightless, guileless, crafted grace
till, snatched abruptly from the dream

by soggy, noisome jaws

demeaned



"Meat Mable" -

on four nights out of seven;
a dog's dinner
dressed to order
spotted dick on the menu
in a tale of two titties
arse and snatch
money up front and
"don't touch the goods till they're paid for"

with only three left
Mabel makes a feathered nest
with gentled arms, maternal breast;
Mabel makes the best she can
one day her boy shall be a man.
there's always fish on fridays





meet mabel

café rose
a green silk dress
white linen sheets
freesia sprigs in a slender crystal vase
a single lace-hemmed stocking
half-drawn blinds
cheval mirror
tilted towards the window

on the carved walnut cabinet
a cell phone discreetly trembles



metaphors, metaphors *rolls eyes*

i want no spaniel on silken leash
no puppy dog with urgent bladder
no two-dicked snappy yapping runt
or fighting dog with taste for (find alternate word here...)

 

[butters]

another 'meet mabel'



mabel likes to toy with her food
torment and tease
lick
and bite
they quiver
never quite sure if suitor or prey
elevensies
or midnight snack
till, bored,
she bites their heads off

 

[butters]

i am the night breath on your window panes
as you live
stranded
in the blue flicker of your 50" screen
hypnotised
by other lives
all script and SFX

i know
where you keep your keys
your phone
your cigarettes

and know
how you look in his eyes
before leaving a room

count
your footsteps
plot your moves
watch
as his hand slides up your thigh

in the dark
unseen
i bite my wrist

 

[butters]

not a glosa, a not sure whicha

final stanza is the mote and is the opening of maya angelou's poem 'Caged Bird' and, admittedly, i've done it no favours but used it anyway.


Free Bird

the free bird leaps
no hood no leash
to hold him back
from thrall of blue
to cross the void
to spill his thrill
as pure unvoiced delight.

the free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
bright wings braced
pinions splayed
thin bones sing
he rides the joys
of now and will and life.

the free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
as ribbons of mist
glisten and dream
as free as he
heading towards the horizon.

the free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
over rag-tailed sails
and curlew cries
no cage to curb his mind.

the free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
farewell to shore
eyes fixed on sun meets blue.

the free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
as all the sea turns gold.

the free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

 

[twelveoone]

as you live
stranded
in the blue flicker of your 50" screen
hypnotised
by other lives

what you are doing above, with one (sometimes two) word lines, is interesting, effective to a point, how do you read it? as prose...

as you live stranded in the blue flicker of your 50" screen
as you live, stranded in the blue flicker of your 50" screen
as you live stranded, in the blue flicker of your 50" screen
as you live, stranded, in the blue flicker of your 50" screen

and

count

just cracks me up

flap,flap,flap

 

[butters]

as you live
stranded
in the blue flicker of your 50" screen
hypnotised
by other lives

what you are doing above, with one (sometimes two) word lines, is interesting, effective to a point, how do you read it? as prose...

as you live stranded in the blue flicker of your 50" screen
as you live, stranded in the blue flicker of your 50" screen
as you live stranded, in the blue flicker of your 50" screen
as you live, stranded, in the blue flicker of your 50" screen

and

count

just cracks me up

flap,flap,flap

last option - line breaks where i'd have used a comma for the most part, placing greater emphasis on the lone words. can't have 'stranded' with any company now, can i? it has to be on its own

not just 'count' but got in 'foot' steps as well

don't you be flapping those black wings at me. caw!

 

[twelveoone]

last option - line breaks where i'd have used a comma for the most part, placing greater emphasis on the lone words. can't have 'stranded' with any company now, can i? it has to be on its own

not just 'count' but got in 'foot' steps as well

don't you be flapping those black wings at me. caw!

looks like vers libre

flap,flap,flap

now where do
you
want to get
bit
lightly
(i'm not into that heavy shit)

You'll live forever (or at least it will just seem that way for an hour or two)

oh the tunnel of the long vowel o

lap,lap,lap

damn, i lost the "f" on landing

 

[butters]

looks like vers libre

flap,flap,flap

now where do
you
want to get
bit
lightly
(i'm not into that heavy shit)

You'll live forever (or at least it will just seem that way for an hour or two)

oh the tunnel of the long vowel o

lap,lap,lap

damn, i lost the "f" on landing

why, so it - does more or less

lightly is just perfect and i'm kind of partial to the back of my neck being nibbled; just so long as you don't turn into count duckula

oh my

 

[twelveoone]

why, so it - does more or less

lightly is just perfect and i'm kind of partial to the back of my neck being nibbled; just so long as you don't turn into count duckula

oh my

from another thread...my IQ is 1201...brain is a sex organ
but there may be a skin colour problem

 

[butters]

from another thread...my IQ is 1201...brain is a sex organ
but there may be a skin colour problem

hawt

 

[butters]

poor li'l greenie....

 

[butters]

mad

In the long dusk
beneath the strange star
two strangers walked
they spoke of war

a war that would rise
encompass a world
the two of them spoke
of horrors unfurled

unfurling of shadows
and grim mortal fears
beneath the strange star
an end to all tears

for tears one needs eyes
but when all flesh is dust
no moisture exists
so in the long dusk

two strangers took steps
they walked side by side
agreed it was best
this planet should die


-------------------------

experimenting with sound and reps but realise the final strophe breaks the pattern *so shooting myself in the metri-ferry-cool foot*

a metrifool

 

[butters]

don't think this one got logged here - i'd forgotten about it till angie's thread!



Midnight in Chelsea

and a sad-eyed lady, all punked out
lounges in a bathroom
not surprised your stairway
stopped longways short of heaven

is Kerouac still dreaming
of his long and winding road?
is Lillie dancing, still, for modern kings?
do pale ghosts wail and whisper
to the wainscot, periodically
as Thomas, Wolfe, and Cohen philosophically ching?

your red red bricks keep tally
of each sheet each towel each key
each peachy prince and princess
damned and dreaming glitterati
dine upon their souls as they
weave magic through the night
spinning with their muses as they
burn their candles oh so bright
oh

would i were a
fly
high
on fumes of birth and
death
breath
studying the wall art
in this hothouse
heaving
mess cess
pit
of ideas sweating life
lovers lost and anguish
rife on every well-heeled one of your twelve floors
with listening walls, their en-suites, and those enigmatic doors ...

i'll never stay in your rooms, although it's deemed a 'must'
but will draw some comfort from this thought:
dear Quentin's free of dust

 

[HarryHill]

don't think this one got logged here - i'd forgotten about it till angie's thread!



Midnight in Chelsea

and a sad-eyed lady, all punked out
lounges in a bathroom
not surprised your stairway
stopped longways short of heaven

is Kerouac still dreaming
of his long and winding road?
is Lillie dancing, still, for modern kings?
do pale ghosts wail and whisper
to the wainscot, periodically
as Thomas, Wolfe, and Cohen philosophically ching?

your red red bricks keep tally
of each sheet each towel each key
each peachy prince and princess
damned and dreaming glitterati
dine upon their souls as they
weave magic through the night
spinning with their muses as they
burn their candles oh so bright
oh

would i were a
fly
high
on fumes of birth and
death
breath
studying the wall art
in this hothouse
heaving
mess cess
pit
of ideas sweating life
lovers lost and anguish
rife on every well-heeled one of your twelve floors
with listening walls, their en-suites, and those enigmatic doors ...

i'll never stay in your rooms, although it's deemed a 'must'
but will draw some comfort from this thought:
dear Quentin's free of dust

did not follow all of it but it seemed to rush, stataco(ms?) like words zooming along if that makes sense. wonderful sonics and maybe alliteration. never read one of yours I did not like.

 

[butters]

thanks a lot for the read/comment, harry

it was from a challenge where we had to use the Hotel Chelsea as inspiration and others had to guess who'd written which piece.

http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=702807

 

[butters]

s c o n e spells moon!


a pale baked moon
a gibbous cookie
launched itself across a depressed sky
thinking to amuse

on the earth
distress shook the crowd
the moon wasn't right
and what might be hiding
on its darkest side?

fires are lit
to displace the moon's unnatural light
the earnest and jokers join ranks
launch missiles
to the moon's surprise
radio-messages bounce back
get scrambled in translation

moon sails on
committed to its flight path
a space station throws its ring of confidence
and new craters are few
yet do not pass unnoticed

 

[butters]

this last one, s c o n e spells moon! - well it's down to a thread over on the GB, where enigmatic (rather than clear) posting, misinterpretation, and confusion led to some real online nastiness.

 

[butters]

hungry Jack

are you hungry, Jack?
i'm no food for the mind
but a man gotta eat, right?
and there's a book on the night stand
you can read if you please
while i sleep
while you smoke
so
put down your fork, Jack
sample this





seeing beyond the horizon

god help the well-intentioned
god help us
from their righteous indignation

not that i expect any help from that quarter

good people
make mistakes too
and aren't above chumming the water
stirring up sludge
till everything's bloody and muddy opaque
then bewail lack of clarity

give me clear waters
so i can see
where not to tread






tread /step? not sure which works better. maybe i'll swap it about. dunno.

 

[butters]

words are stones
raw alcohol
mud

and yet
would they were

gentle air
cat's smile
ripples on a pond's surface
the hanging fruit and ears of corn
the deep snow
firelight
the dizzying wheel of stars that
pull against the earth's own round
lying here
in the grass
looking up