Raegan Butcher's Blog

It is poems like this that made me fall under the spell of Charles Bukowski. Enjoy.

CONSUMATION OF GRIEF
I even hear the mountains
the way they laugh
up and down their blue sides
and down in the water
the fish cry
and all the water
is their tears.
I listen to the water
on nights I drink away
and the sadness becomes so great
I hear it in my clock
it becomes knobs upon my dresser
it becomes paper on the floor
it becomes a shoehorn
a laundry ticket
it becomes
cigarette smoke
climbing a chapel of dark vines. . .
it matters little
very little love is not so bad
or very little life
what counts
is waiting on walls
I was born for this
I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead.

I ached for years to be a published poet and writer. Having accomplished these goals, I can state that it is very interesting how my own feelings about my books have changed with the passage of time. The way I feel about my poetry books these days is ... let's say you go into a tavern and have too much to drink and then you begin talking too much and you force distastefully intimate details of your personal life onto total strangers. It is not a nice feeling. It feels shameful, embarrassing. That is how I feel about my poetry books. Thank God no one reads them!

When the 1st dog & cat arrived in Heaven, they stood before God on His throne and the Lord asked the dog, “What qualities grant you a place at my side here in Heaven?”
And the dog replied, “I am steadfast, courageous, and loyal. And that is why I deserve a place beside you.”
God turned to the cat and asked, “What qualities give you the grace to sit beside me?”
The cat said, “I think you are sitting in my seat.”

Dropped off social media. If people wonder what I am doing…I’d rather just be a question mark.

I will dispense with the usual virtue signaling and get to the truth of it: I am sometimes a lazy, grouchy, moody, impatient, short-tempered jerk with a vicious tongue, but most of the time I am a cheerful, hard-working ,highly imaginative and empathetic person who is kind to animals, small children and the elderly, hates injustice and inequality, would like to see everyone healthy, happy & wearing a brand new pair of shoes, etc, and I suspect that you who are now reading this are not that much different. In short, we are all human. And humans are messy. Our moods fluctuate according to our circumstances and a jillion other infinitesimals. But, hopefully, most of us try to be good people. I have deep shame for the pain I have caused others thru out my life and I have had a lot of time to ponder ethics, morals and other such notions. Without reflection and contemplation, how can one learn and grow and change? All life is about growing. I have changed much since I was a younger person, and I hope, changed for the better.
I am an anti-nihilist. I can look around and acknowledge the negative, indeed, some say I positively wallow in it ( that’s what studying history is?) but I think that means it is even more important to try to be “good”.

As a life long fan of science fiction and horror I can't help but feel that in the last decade, life on this planet has become more and more like a sci fi movie or book. And that is not at all a good thing. The present already looks like a dreadful combination of Soylent Green, Elysium and Children of Men and i have a feeling things are about to get much worse.

It has taken me a few years but I am finally writing the next installment of the Chupacabra Chronicles. It is going to be one of the most wild & outrageous books in the series.

Wow. A Lot of things have changed since I was last able to remember my password in order to get on to this site.

I can feel my mind going, like HAL in 2001. ha. Not really. Or at least not too badly yet. But I am having difficulty keeping track of things. I have written virtually nothing except a few ideas for longer works that i cannot focus on long enough to even begin. My grasp of language and spelling seems to be deteriorating, or maybe I am just out of practice because I haven't been tapping at the keyboard in a long time.

Either I've had a minor stroke (!) or I am smoking too much weed (!) or I am just losing it.
I may not be able to remember how to get back on Goodreads by tomorrow.

But while I am here and cogent I want to thank you all who've enjoyed my reviews. And especially a big grateful thanks to anyone who has read a book of mine and taken the time and effort to post a review, even if it's a negative review. Any kind of feedback is gratifying to a nobody like me.

PLAYING IT COOL

I hadn’t been with a woman
in four years
now here I was
going on a dinner date with
an old flame from high school
and on the drive
to the restaurant
I told myself
you are not going to flirt with her
you are certainly not going to hit on her
just play it cool, man, play it cool.
she has a different last name
so, she is probably married
don’t flirt with her
don’t hit on her.
you are just old friends
meeting again
to catch up on
the last thirty years
so play it cool, for god’s sake
play it cool.

I arrived first
and sat waiting,
telling myself, over and over,
just play it cool,
when she tells you
about her husband
and her family and how
happy she is,
simply smile and be happy for her too,
just play it cool, man
play it cool.

her car pulled into the parking lot
I saw her through the windshield
that familiar brown hair
and the same lovely face
from back in the day

she climbed out of the car
I glanced at her slim ankles and her long legs
remembering them wrapped around me
in better days

I walked up and we hugged
I looked into her soulful brown eyes, smelled her hair, it was intoxicating

I promptly got an erection.

she felt it pressed against her mid-section,
laughed and said, “Well, it’s nice to see you too.”

So much
for playing it
cool.

PAST DUE

i am awake
at 5am
yet everyone else
in this house
sleeps until noon
so i must creep around
like a goddamned cat burglar
for the first half of my day.
50 yrs old and i can’t pay
the mortgage
the water bill
the electric bill
or the gas bill.

maybe
i could send all my creditors
some poems.
like trading in chickens.
get back to the simple life.