Sign in with Facebook
Tracy J. Butler’s Followers (89)
Tracy J. Butler
Tracy J. Butler isn't a Goodreads Author
(yet),
but they
do have a blog,
so here are some recent posts imported from
their feed.
I’m back… And I bring art of Mitzi (bathed in a nice helping of over-saturated colors). This was…
Read more of this blog post »
I’m back… And I bring art of Mitzi (bathed in a nice helping of over-saturated colors). This was originally part of a larger project which I have now decided not to finish.
I sincerely apologize for not being as active recently, things have just gotten busy. 😅
|
Lackadaisy: Volume #1 (Lackadaisy, #1)
—
published
2008
—
10 editions
|
|
|
Lackadaisy: Volume #2
|
|
|
Lackadaisy Essentials (Lackadaisy, #3)
|
|
* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
“Old Man River!
That seems far too austere a name
For something made of mirth and rage.
O, roiling red-blood river vein,
If chief among your traits is age,
You're a wily, convoluted sage.
Is "old" the thing to call what rings
The vernal heart of wester-lore;
What brings us brassy-myth made kings
(And preponderance of bug-type things)
To challenge titans come before?
Demiurge to a try at Avalon-once-more!
And what august vitality
In your wide aorta stream
You must have had to oversee
Alchemic change of timber beam
To iron, brick and engine steam.
Your umber whiskey waters lance
The prideful sober sovereignty
Of faulty-haloed Temperance
And wilt her self-sure countenance;
Yes, righteousness is vanity,
But your sport's for imps, not elderly.
If there's a name for migrant mass
Of veteran frivolity
That snakes through seas of prairie grass
And groves of summer sassafras,
A name that flows as roguishly
As gypsy waters, fast and free,
It's your real name, Mississippi.”
― Lackadaisy: Volume #1
That seems far too austere a name
For something made of mirth and rage.
O, roiling red-blood river vein,
If chief among your traits is age,
You're a wily, convoluted sage.
Is "old" the thing to call what rings
The vernal heart of wester-lore;
What brings us brassy-myth made kings
(And preponderance of bug-type things)
To challenge titans come before?
Demiurge to a try at Avalon-once-more!
And what august vitality
In your wide aorta stream
You must have had to oversee
Alchemic change of timber beam
To iron, brick and engine steam.
Your umber whiskey waters lance
The prideful sober sovereignty
Of faulty-haloed Temperance
And wilt her self-sure countenance;
Yes, righteousness is vanity,
But your sport's for imps, not elderly.
If there's a name for migrant mass
Of veteran frivolity
That snakes through seas of prairie grass
And groves of summer sassafras,
A name that flows as roguishly
As gypsy waters, fast and free,
It's your real name, Mississippi.”
― Lackadaisy: Volume #1
“What's lawful doesn't always coincide with what's right, Freckle. And THAT was very right.”
― Lackadaisy: Volume #1
― Lackadaisy: Volume #1
“Besides, what sort of heretic would I be to let Lady Dionysus down?
For she keeps the contumacious key,
To our sanctuary underground
And retains the shady sanctity
Of the royal rye and barley crown.
Yet further, she's commensurate
With her distiller's charity.
Her very aura is an opiate-
The electric-fever remedy.
To be meadowsweet inebriate
Is to breathe her smoke felicity.
Still I could otherwise proselytize
About the gong-sound of her look,
About the moonshine-potent sighs,
And the warm narcotic of ”
―
For she keeps the contumacious key,
To our sanctuary underground
And retains the shady sanctity
Of the royal rye and barley crown.
Yet further, she's commensurate
With her distiller's charity.
Her very aura is an opiate-
The electric-fever remedy.
To be meadowsweet inebriate
Is to breathe her smoke felicity.
Still I could otherwise proselytize
About the gong-sound of her look,
About the moonshine-potent sighs,
And the warm narcotic of ”
―
Is this you? Let us know. If not, help out and invite Tracy to Goodreads.
