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

[butters]

blue sun
yellow sky
mud fish
quartz high

*

bass player strums
plucks two-fingered
guitar moans
growls
trembles

*

rollin'
stoned
fingers twitch, air-guitarin'
he's high on refraction
scales glitter as they fall from his eyes
wave changin'

*

everywhere's beaded by light
drops strung on leaf tip
in hair
on the loosely hung phone lines
the railings
on cars
sing notes of lamp light
as they shiver
and fall

*

lights are off
the empty room
water runs down the glass wall
channeling light
funneling shadow
slow dancin'
in an empty room
naked in the rain
back to chest
hips in sync
arms encompassing
just slow dancin'
to music only we can hear

*

and this is the dance
the dance of words
music rises and falls
driven by pulse and intakes of breath
sliding on mirrors
oily as cats on wet tarmac

 

[butters]

coffee and blinking lights
how the brain does work
hanging half in shadow
looking for dawn
eyes focused on some low star

 

[corndog_]

coffee and blinking lights
how the brain does work
hanging half in shadow
looking for dawn
eyes focused on some low star

Perfectly describes my writing style!

 

[butters]

Perfectly describes my writing style!

nice to see you posting, dawg

 

[corndog_]

nice to see you posting, dawg

I think it is nice to see you, too, but my screen keeps steaming up over your avatar.

 

[butters]

I think it is nice to see you, too, but my screen keeps steaming up over your avatar.

try blowing on it

 

[corndog_]

try blowing on it

I wouldn't touch that joke with a 10 inch pole.

 

[butters]

I wouldn't touch that joke with a 10 inch pole.

smart man

 

[butters]

pan needed to understand it was fine to grow up
to be a man without losing sight of boyish dreams
become master of the vessel
without fear of time's reptilian stalk
set fair sail
play dress-up for fun
fly without wings
rescue willing damsels
loot chests in a piratical manner
wear his shadows against his heart




don't all our shadows mock us?
dance around our feet to trip us
up to no good
teasing
flirting with our light
hearts
weightless fingers leaving cool streaks
throat, nape, cheek?

perhaps we'd best cast away the needle
discard the whimper-sneer knave
accept our raggedy natures



venus descends
sweet and wet
impales herself nightly
on mars' angry rise
throbbing warrior
passionate and reaching
for legends of moon-flesh
pulsing deeper
burning brighter together
falling apart in a torrent of sunbeams
journeying on
alone



between O
and Ohhhhhhhhhh
time suspends its foolish grin
we hang
breathless
in a space/time dissolution
liquefaction guaranteed

 

[butters]

not sure if i logged these in, so here for now:

night tides
on rain's endless narrative
slip-stream
into semi-consciousness

lullabyed, the thought-process,
beyond the liquid stir of flesh

a river of skies
wet coins on eyes
reflect the night




broken reflections

kneel
beneath dripping leaves
as hair covets a skull's contours
shiver to breaks of thunder that
roll across the unseen heavens
a shuddering of light
bend flushed face towards the rippling pool
drink

 

[butters]

between text and screen
enough of a day to change a date
and i crave the comfort of my bed
my duvet's warm embrace
my pillows' cushiony resistance
low light
heavy lids
breaths spent in the bleak wait





grrr, which is it, damn you, today or tomorrow? i wants my new precioussss

(the impending arrival of my new pc, just in case anyone wonders. )

 

[Henchman999]

here you go, bflagsst, a few either already published or aired online. I've a fair amount of newer material but am considering where to sub or if even to sub at all.

a smallish one:

and still i stare

her hands, her dress, her hair
all fail
to tear my gaze aside

from eyes
whose sadness is a shockwave
breaking over me

they say she's crazy




the somewhere other-looking boy

with filthy hair and mis-matched shoes
eyes soft-focus dreaming blues
this boy is somewhere other-looking

with the mind of a child
and the body of a man
he only knows pleasure
in the palm of his hand
he walks like a sleeper
a smile coasts his lips
and he's treading on water -
a silence in his fingertips

(published in Cold Eels about 4 years back)



wintered

still waiting for the snow to start to fall
you'll miss the bluebells' haze on woodland floor
the sigh of summer breeze across the waves
and let me tell you, watcher, what is more
you'll miss the cider-light of autumn days
their crisper air and sensual delights
their tart perfume and subtle, russet glaze -
you'll miss them, craving only winter's ice



andthen there's this one from approx 6 years back I think, published in Epiphanies and Other Asurdities. Sigh. While I am still fond of it for various reasons, there are changes I would have made looking back at it.

and you and you and you


too soon, too soon, the eagle flew
while you were busy drawing down
the moon into those icy hands,
purchasing one-eyed wisdom
to crowd your poppied mind
until you could no longer stand
but gently tumbled tousled thoughts
to fall asleep in twilight lands,
asleep in the laps of legends.

and, as you dreamt, a river of woe
washed over you and carried you down
to those blasted banks, where the rocking stone
could be toppled by the gentlest touch;
you stroked the smooth-skinned serpent's egg
and, though asleep, you cried real tears
for emotions that somehow eluded you
and for the names of the faces
you seemed to remember
with a distant and palsied anxiety.

and you dreamt you wrote a mystic piece
where vague and shuffling demons danced;
where Odin cast aside his mask
and settled on your shoulders, round
a mammoth task:
a burden irredeemable - a lance;
a lance to bear in diamond jousts,
advancing through the teeth of fear
to seize that chance to win the soured prize.

Methusulah, with his long grey beard
whispered in your sleeping ear
of fools and wise men, sons and daughters
the Devil's love for holy water
of a single, human footprint in the sand;
of the perils of duplicity
the rigours of respectibility
of such passions as can tear apart a man.

and on the sharp infliction of
such sorrows' textured wounds, you woke
with knotted hair and eyes still chasing phantoms;
and even though the darkstream coursed
still dully in your veins, you spoke
of fields of blood and lonely Death's cold tantrums;
and lifelong cravings threatening to choke ...
to strain and break the slenderest of throats.

with that distempered mind you reached
for lightless needles littering the floor;
and, as a stray dog to its vomit, warm,
to poisoned dreams did you return, once more.

***
'and you' poem

Subject/theme warranted pulling out all stops to set
a form that historically invites and complicates elevation
above (far above) the ordinary open-form poem. This
poem plays to the popular grain and appeals to an at-
least temporary adjustment of mind-set (cognitive poetic)
to read as a deliberate counter-move and variation on
outworn romanticism. This, by a determined avoidance
of cliche and by a more assured use of fresh idioms.

This poem, generous to perfection, allows the poet to
stay out of the way. Poets too often get in the way and
mess their own nest by lingering.

me

 

[butters]

***
'and you' poem

Subject/theme warranted pulling out all stops to set
a form that historically invites and complicates elevation
above (far above) the ordinary open-form poem. This
poem plays to the popular grain and appeals to an at-
least temporary adjustment of mind-set (cognitive poetic)
to read as a deliberate counter-move and variation on
outworn romanticism. This, by a determined avoidance
of cliche and by a more assured use of fresh idioms.

This poem, generous to perfection, allows the poet to
stay out of the way. Poets too often get in the way and
mess their own nest by lingering.

me

thankyou. to be quite honest, i found that phrasing complex and i'm still unsure exactly what you mean - though i do have the general gist. i'm afraid my understanding of poetry is not from a scholastic background and so i lack the terminology at times.

i frequently mess my nest. my better pieces, or those i see as better, tend to be more fragrant.

i hope to i'll look at your pieces tomorrow night and offer my own responses to them.

 

[butters]

shame you went someplace, H, since i'd like to thankyou for steering me in the direction of cognitive poetics, reading a little on the matter, clicking links that take me into further new rooms of interest.

 

[butters]

who knew dull words
those small plain things
could hold an edge so wafer-thin
be honed so sample-slicing keen
when wielded by a heart in pain?

 

[butters]

old thrills, new spills
break the bottle
spin jagged teeth in a hot new smile -
malignant anticipation

a grease-slick pearl of sweat
lets go
crosses the void
hits dust

 

[butters]

rapunzel's fucked
her and that wandering prince
a thick rope of nothing

all those years
to grow a false hope
in an absence of malice

 

[butters]

swallow my heart
it lurches, erratically
run! run for cover!
don't stumble between those blue steel rails
heroes, ghosts
there's no forever
the bridge is falling! falling!
train's hot and mournsome breath
seeks some newer way
on my neck
break sweat
alarm bells ring
eyes break on day

 

[butters]

soft-swollen saddle of tender flesh
word-stirred
led
by imagination
rough thumb divides slick lips
nipples rouged by teeth, tongue
gentled, man-sized kisses




a man for all seasons
buries his face in her fragrance
unafraid of winter
knowing the rose will still bloom
pink, red

 

[butters]

just tidying up

flesh shivers
buds in anticipation
pulse making itself known
in hidden, pouting places

places trust in desire
to stiffen his resolve






how to sum up a smile
of contentedness, of pleasure?

what words could serve to deliver that softened mien?
a pearl-pink dawning of temperate day?
the movement of bone, muscle
beneath flesh on the hoof,
fresh eggs in the nest box,
cat on the roof?
the milky wail of an infant,
splitting of logs,
the panting dog that shakes loose water from its pelt
before settling to grin in the long, waving grass?

a good, fat book, marked in place,
a new pc, repository of art --
a talent?

soft give and hug of the worn, loved sofa?
hands wrapped round a steamy mug?
the closing of the curtains at night,
last shut of the back door, cat in, chores done?
the reaching of one hand
to another,
a leading up the stairs,
an opening of the door,
an expanse of waiting bed...?







gone but not absent
call and note only reminders
of thoughts, voice, flesh
reminders that stir ripples in emotional fabric
small seismic jolts in bedrock
slippage
seepage
no need to turn on the heating today

appetites







and all the bars and all the booze
mere props along the way
the music dances deep inside
as we improvise the play






how?
all show and no tell?

at a loss
where to start

capillaries sluice their load
eyes wide and heart cramped

*breathe*

okay, see this fresh, warm loaf?
this knife that's lost its blade?
lay down the handle
you have hands

tear apart the firm gold crust
inhale the ripe, rich scent
rising from the soft white flesh

and take that yellow pat of butter
two-fingered scoop
daub and smear
caress the bread

lick your fingers
bite


how to show?
i don't know how

 

[butters]

Cliff notes to a Life

Born in an ambulance
too eager to meet the blizzard of days

a childhood of horses, fields, woodland
dressing up, drawing, and church

first boyfriend to husband in less than three years
just how it was done.
why it was done
who knows?

city job to housewife
nurturing child, garden, home
flat to house
broken lift to separate loo
snap-dragons and lupins
marigolds, sweet williams

in her heart, always
forget-me-nots
summer hay, magic-dappled stream
and bluebells

then the darkness came

long time passing

brief moments of illumination
new life

and wood-violets raised their heads
violas smiled
rain became a thing of joy
she remembered just how beautiful
the sky

 

[butters]

Go he said
there are more worlds than this
then fell
across the neverwhen

dusty boots on two-lane blacktop
pick-up hauls its dusty arse then slows
in a sunset of motes
waits
till cuban-heeled notes
stir the back-score of fear
bilious eye in a rain-fevered sky...
screech of tyres

and the hand aches
lost fingers protest their invisibility
and the back cracks
too long carrying a world

walks blindfold along the beam
can't see clouds that race overhead
but feels their pull
to look up
could be dangerous
lost in their current
he might lose his footing

put aside your compass
follow your heart
all beams lead to the rose

there are other worlds...

 

[butters]

well now
there's a thing

seems my earliest memory
is of falling
into the blue

falling in love
with the sky

 

[butters]

wolves howl in the wasteland
but let us be snug
skin their bones and
riddle-me this
way to the way-station
for i have a key

dawn breaks rose and gold
whispering of youthful waters
in a neverstream of when

 

[butters]

take the plainest stone

its dull exterior
pitted, nondescript
tumble it in water, sand
erode its camouflage
reveal the wonders
striations, layerings of colour
like cosmic winds stirring milky space-clouds

everything that glisters, tod...

take the plainest stone
unveil it