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The Web Poetry Corner

Landry Butler

of

Nashville, TN, US

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The Two Minute Warning

by

Landry Butler

I have a ticking clock in my living room,
a clock with no hands.
I call it Godıs clock because althoı it works,
I never know what time it is.
But recently,
just this morning in fact,
the alarm went off.

We Were Born

by

Landry Butler

We were born into a world where everything was fair
and if you worked long and hard enough,
all your dreams would come true.
Now weıve sold all our dreams
just to catch up on the rent.
And we go to work each day
while the hate and fear grows inside.
We wonder where we went wrong.
When we reached the end of the rainbow,
the pot of gold was gone
probably stolen by some greedy capitalist
oh well.

So where do we go from here?
All the wicked kingıs promises
were nothing but lies.
At least we have our souls;
at least we have our lives.


Ground Hogıs Day

by

Landry Butler

Every day is like the movie Ground Hogıs Day
except that the situations change.
This is the origin
of the theory of reincarnation.
Each day one wakes up,
he is Adam or Eve
on that first day of creation.
Everything is new,
the nightıs sleep
has wiped the slate clean
well, mostly clean.

divertissement

by

Landry Butler

the mark of the mole
hole in the sky
they will seek death and not find it
the great depression occurred
shortly after the 1929 stock market crash
when lotsa people
lost lotsa money
will it happen again?
Drudgery is the touch stone of character
Suffering either gives me myself or destroys myself.

Oswald Chambers

My Evil Twin

by

Landry Butler

My evil twin is a topless dancer.
She makes great tips.
On a really good weekend,
sheıll bring in $3,000 or so.
She hates dancing
and she doesnıt need the money.

Her ex-husband was a movie star
with an affinity for foreign cars.
He wrapped a vintage Bugatti around a tree
to prove he wasnıt a materialist.
Now we just think heıs crazy.

These are people with something to prove;
stories of people with nothing to lose.
Trying to fill the hole in the soul;
trying to reconcile themselves with the world outside.


waiting for the Big one

by

Landry Butler

She gazes longingly at the photograph.
It reminds her of the life she led when single.
Drug-fueled sex binges
but sheıs married now.

Married to a man she hasnıt seen in months,
thoı he calls every day and writes once a week.
He says heıs "preparing a place" for her,
a new home theyıll both live in.
She believes him.
She loves him.
She gave up her self destructive lifestyle to be with him.
She doesnıt regret it, but sometimes
sometimes she longs
for one more night of revelry.
Sometimes she fears heıll never return.
Hell, sheıs only human.


The Truth Comes Out

by

Landry Butler

If not now, then when
If not me, then who
I come bearing bad news
News that affects us all
News pertaining to the Virgin Mother of the world
She lied.
Not a virgin, but a whore
Not a mother, but a kidnapper
Not a saint, but a rapist
How long has this been going on?
Let the virgin fall!
Destroy her temples and edifices
Leave her ill gotten wealth behind
For it is soaked with the blood of millions
She will burn
she will pay for this


Andrew Taylor 4

by

Landry Butler

He lives in a Fantasyland
where all the women wear
five-inch heels
and have legs up to their necks.
Theyıre all beautiful
and intelligent
and they find him extremely attractive
even when heıs stinking drunk.
Everyone there is happy
and their dreams all come true.
They know none of it is real
but they donıt care anymore.

At one time he wanted to be real.
At one time he celebrated
both the ups and downs of life.
Once he got the courage
to get up and leave,
but not for long.
Reality is a bitch in heat.
But everyone there is happy
and all their dreams come true.
They know itıs a lie but
they prefer the term ³consensual reality².

Something keeps bugging him;
the sensual reality
of real life.
But he hasnıt time for that now.
His life is full of virtual fun
one pocket full of money,
the other full of cocaine.
Heıs either killing himself
or going insane.
Whatıs the difference
when everyone there is so happy.
All their dreams come true.
The whole thing leaves him unsatisfied.

Then
thereıs this Jesus person
who said he was the way.
He left a bunch of letters
that no one understands
and a promise to return.
And where does that leave Mr. Taylor?
Waiting.


2009

by

Landry Butler

Winston Smith sits naked on the floor
facing the TV.
The sound is turned down.
He packs his pipe and lights it,
inhaling slowly.
What he is doing is illegal.
He knows he is being watched.
He doesnıt care.
Defiantly he blows smoke rings
toward the television
and laughs.

In twenty-five years
he cannot remember
ever being outside this room.
He cannot ever remember
eating,
drinking
or relieving himself.
He is surrounded
by piles of clothes
he canıt remember wearing
and magazines
he canıt remember reading.
Although he smokes constantly,
his stash remains full.

He cannot remember his past.
He looks forward to no future.
He is happy
only because he doesnıt know any better
or any worse.


silence/is/voluntary

by

Landry Butler

I said I was an artist
but I really went to therapy,
taped my sessions
and sold ıem for a buck.
Therapyıs expensive
and I needed the money.

Now Iım tapped out.
I have no more songs to sing
save those that arenıt my own.
Even words are few
and far between.
I am not speaking now
even though I try so hard.
My thoughts are incoherent
and my voice nonexistent.
I wish I could tell you how I feel
like a frame without a photograph
but I canıt even tell myself.

At least I can truthfully say
that I havenıt sold out.(?)
Silence is preferable to speaking
when your words are contractual obligations.
Praise God!!!
I am free to keep my mouth shut.

What a strange freedom have I.
Like the freedom of one
who doesnıt need to be free;
the freedom of one
who doesnıt need to be equal;
the freedom of one
content to be loved
by the biggest love in the universe.

(yeah, you say that now)


Once I was blind now I see

by

Landry Butler

but no one ever told me about colour.
No one ever explained light.
No one ever told me
about three dimensional space.
I donıt understand
the way objects change
as I get nearer
or farther.
Changing
yet they remain the same.
And for the longest time
God never existed
unless I heard ³the voice².
Now
Iım looking straight in Godıs face,
but all I see
is a jumbled confusion of shape,
light
and shadow

And Iım not sure
just how to love you.
For so long
you were only a voice
on the phone,
a scribble on paper.
Back then
I felt on top of love,
I knew what I was in for.
These days,
more often than not,
love does itıs own thing
and leaves me
to wonder what happened.

Once I was blind,
now I see.
But I have no understanding
of what Iım seeing.
I am the man
who mistakes his wife
for a hat
or a steak
or a spectre
from the distant past.
Somebody tell me,
what colour is ³yellow?²