Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2011 · 1.0k
Hopi Butler Nov 2011
I can hear
Your whispered words
Your evil thoughts
Plaguing my mind
I can feel those looks
Despising me
Judging me
With tempered thoughts
And satirical mocks
I can see them
Hiding in the darkness
I can see them
Their clawed hands
Reaching out with
Darkened Vengeance
My Paradise Lost
I see your Beelzebub
Your minions
Your Igor
Mocking me
Taunting me
You coward,
You fiend!
Stay out of my mind
Out of my life
My dreams
You steal away
My originality
The me I have become
And who is this creature
This monster
In my reflection?
With hardened eyes
And guarded heart
I pray today
I will sleep away
This mentality
This disease
And be one of THEM
One of THEM
If only for a day
Hopi Butler Nov 2011
You’re a liar
You’re a cheat
You’re everything
She doesn’t need

She’s so stupid
She’s so gullible
To believe you
To believe your lies

Fool me once
Shame on you
Fool me twice
Shame on me

I’m so stupid
I’m so naïve
I believed that
You made her happy

All I see now
Is unfaithful lies
All I see now
Is her tear-stricken eyes

Fool me once
Shame on you
Fool me twice
Shame on me
Nov 2011 · 591
Something Worse than I
Hopi Butler Nov 2011
Lost inside
A broken world
So filled with dark corruption
And I can’t seem to
Find the brighter light
And I search
And all I find is
Something worse than I

Dark black evil
Feel it’s breath
Stank and clammy
It tires to come to thee
And I can’t seem to
Find the exit sign out

No more brightness
No more happy times
The darkness has prevailed
I’m afraid that
I am truly lost here

Lost inside
A broken world
Where I can’t find my way out
Lost inside
A broken time
Why can’t I be whole

Bright white evil
So conniving
Tricks even the Saints
Makes residence
In my heart
Next to the black evil in me

Lost inside
A broken world
Where peace is not a word
Lost inside
A broken memory
And I can only find
Something worse than I
Something worse than I
Nov 2011 · 1.8k
Orange Juice then Frosting
Hopi Butler Nov 2011
Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting

Time is repetition
As I watch from the couch
“He won’t last the weekend,”
Says Hospice
“They said he might not last the weekend,”
Says Dauson
He’s stronger than they know,
I say

Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting

False hope, of course
I can see the way
The cancer fights
Deceiving the guards
Hiding and attacking
Slowly taking what’s theirs
Slowly killing,
Spreading down towards the
Ground then rocketing up
Until his psyche
Dissipates into nothing

Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting

“Go hunting, it’s opening day,”
He says
They listen
But only because
He yells at them to
She goes out to smoke
My grandma with my grandpa’s killer
“Can you pick Dauson up?”
Says Mom to Tracy
Keith’s mother,
Mother of my brother’s “brother”

Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then Frosting

I know it’s coming
Yelling it’s arrival
Like the steady beat of a beating drum
I’m surprised
That no one else
Can hear it
That no one else
Can feel it
Permeating the air
The shadows reaching out
With tendrils made of cold
Made of smoke
Made of death’s sweet kiss

Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting

Time is fast forwarded
Laying him down on the bed
“Melissa’s almost here,
The boys are almost here”
And then time stops for a moment
He’s facing me
Eyes closed, mouth parted
A single tear that is his own
Freezes on his cheek

Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting

You asked what changed
Me the most?
What made me who
I am today?
A grave stone
A wooden cross
Seeing a man die slowly
Day after day
Nov 2011 · 1.0k
Bottling Me
Hopi Butler Nov 2011
I bury myself deeper
Hiding my true self
I drown out the sound
Of my selves crying out
I bottle up my fears
My worries
My confusion
I store my feelings
Trusting only God, pen and paper
I hide my tears
Behind a fake smile
Letting no one see
The pain I’m in
Letting no one see
The nightmare I’m stuck in
Eyes holding back my past
My transgressions
My secrets
So I continue on
Carrying the dead man’s weight
Slowly, ever so slowly
Crawling towards
The crimson light
Nov 2011 · 764
Secret Medow
Hopi Butler Nov 2011
A sea of green

Crawling towards Heaven

Swaying and folding

Against itself

Budding trees surrounding

Their branches tipped

With the bright green sprouts

Of new life begun

And old life broken

A pond of silk

Luminous and pure

Floats in the middle

Ripples dancing in its water

As a cliff overhangs

The waterfall falling

Unconnected to the earth

The sea of green

Has become the sea of gold

As once green leaves

Begin to fall

Unto the earth

Leaving the willow trees

With nothing

But swaying branches

The waterfall reflects

A rainbow cast by

The full Harvest Moon

Shining in its resplendent form

The ripples waltz

Never leaving the tempo

Set forth by the Creator

Long before their own time

The grass lays frozen

Buried beneath

White powder

As it falls from a clear sky

The trees stand bare

Their leaves falling

Falling to the broken earth

The broken skin of the meadow

The pond of silk

Lays cold and dead

The ripples gone

Until the night is done

The waterfall lies still

The beads of water

Exactly where they were

When the winter had come again
Nov 2011 · 1.6k
My Secret Place ~ Prose
Hopi Butler Nov 2011
Large, billowing willow trees surround a small meadow, leaving no way to get out. Their branches hang to the ground, the wind whipping them lazily. The green sprouts and leaves on the tips of the branches drag on the ground softly. The trees are so packed together that no sight can be seen through the trees, no escape at all. No one can enter, and no one can leave. The bark is brown, deep crevices made in its skin. The limbs skim over the ground, swaying ever so slightly. On the limbs hang nearly invisible webs spun by clever weaving spiders. The bright green grass wraps around the bark, swaying in the lazy meadow. In the middle of the meadow floats a high overhanging cliff, no part of it truly connected to the ground. Vines cover a structure, obstructing what the structure truly is. Bright pink and blue flowers decorate the vines, adding a serene feeling to the floating island and a floating smell of nectar is carried by the wind. A waterfall flows through the middle of the gates, the cool pure water falling into the pond directly below the waterfall. The pond is covered with ripples, although nothing seems to be obstructing the surface of the pond for the moment. Below the surface flows gentle weaves of seaweed, rainbow colored fish swimming between the strands. They would jump up, spreading small rainbows on dew drops into the sweet tasting air. The cloudless sky seems to sparkle in the setting sunlight, spreading pink and red strips across the sky. No birds fly in the small expanse of visible sky, yet a small nameless tune is heard, the wind carrying it all around the trees. The tune is light, and filled with what can only be known as joy.

The tune begins to change, losing the quality of light and joy and changing into a tune of sereneness and calm. The wind carries it through the meadow, pushing it against the dark trees. The leaves begin to fall, staining the ground at their feet different shades of red, gold and orange. The lost foliage does nothing to deter the packed trees from blocking any view outside of the circular meadow, leaving it in seclusion. The grass is turning into bright gold strands, folding unto itself as it sways in the gentle wind. The wind tastes like apples, although there is no fruit on the trees. The wind continues to flow, picking up the leaves and scattering them away from the base of the trees. The pond is covered with a few stray leaves, the ripples from said leaves turning and spinning as if they were dihedrals spun by small children. A harvest moon sends out a bright light, casting a rainbow onto the waterfall. The forever flowing waterfall continues to cascade down from the floating island as the rainbow continues to color the water. The rainbow fish’s scales have turned deep colors of red and gold, and they continue to break the surface of the pond, jumping to and fro. The vines still cover the cold, metal gate, blood red flowers covering the island in stunning beauty. The meadow seems to secrete a pleasant smell, sending waves of comfort and  tranquility to every blade of grass and falling leaf.

The grass disappears from view as the ground is covered in white, cold powder. The branches on the trees dip from the weight of snow and ice, their limbs brushing the ground in small sweeps. The crisp, biting wind does nothing to help the swaying, and instead blows across the ground, sending small flurries of the snow upwards bound. It circles around the frozen waterfall, every drop of purified water hanging in place, frozen in time. The island itself is covered in snow and white flowers, their color unadulterated. The vines seem to be dead, no longer living as they were before. The secret of the gates seem to be revealed, although barely. The gate remains locked, but the vines are cleared enough that the fenced in area can be seen. The area in the middle of the island is glowing, brightly colored with the beginning of the waterfall, the rainbow fish swimming in the small pool of water. The trees that are in the fenced in area are bright with life and colors, shining as if they were in the midst of spring and not winter. Petals from the flowers that decorate the vines and trees gently fall, landing on the icy surface of the pond. Silence invades the wintry meadow, crushing upon the meadow with great strength as the wind howls silently. The sky is pure black, the only light seen is the glistening stars, all shining as brightly as the northern star. Bright strips of rainbow appear in the sky, the aurora waving like the waves of the ocean themselves. Softly, stealthily a small tune is heard to only those truly lost in the meadow’s power. The tune is filled with what words can only describe as confusion as joy and peace meld with depression and war, hatred and love weaving in and out of the tune like a needle and thread. The tune is suddenly broken, and the meadow disappears, leaving nothing behind but darkness and emptiness until the cycle repeats another day.
Nov 2011 · 824
The Heart's Contempt
Hopi Butler Nov 2011
Twisting* and Turning
Until nothing
Is left
Till nothing
Is left alive
In a corrupted world
In a place filled with pain

Sliding and Churning
In a circle
Filling the mind
With disease
And ill conceptions
Until sanity is only myth
And lore told of Old
Nov 2011 · 693
In and Yo
Hopi Butler Nov 2011
Slipping and Sliding
In a haze of hatred
In a haze of death

Flowing and swaying
In a fog of misconception
In a fog of swirling life

They push
They pull
Breaking and Bending
Until naught is left

They mend
They forgive
And the Circle of In and Yo
Continue once again
Nov 2011 · 1.1k
Imprisoned Trust
Hopi Butler Nov 2011
Twisted in all its glory
Tortured to submission
Lost in memories
Days come together
The door opens again
Another onslaught begins
Stabbed in the back
I trust again

— The End —