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Showing posts from August, 2009

Don't Step On My Red Sparkle Shoes

From the attic:

Lyndsey sat on the reading rug all curled up on the big letter C.
Her fists were jammed into her eyes and she was rocking a fierce "bucket lip."
She was on time out. Her infraction? Kicking down a block castle.
Not safe. Not kind. Not allowed.
Not noted for her subtlety, Lyndsey was doing a fairly good job of letting all within viewing distance know that she was not happy with this decision.
Every so often, she would stop and scan her audience for a micro-second between eye jams.


"Whatsamatta Lynds?", I ask sitting next to her.
"Nothing!"
I could go through a detailed history of all the "nothings" ever uttered that ended up being big somethings at this point, but they would all pale in comparison to this "nothing".
"Really Lynds?"
"No"
And not a sweet little, poor pitiful me no, but rather a head spinning, pea soup shooting no.
Lyndsey was hellbent on being miserable and would have dearly loved some company.

Candy

She sat
high and mighty
on her throne
cinnamon taffy legs
wrapped around
the bar stool

She took
a meaningful
drag off of her
cigarette
withholding
the exhale

Leaning in
an agonizingly
long
male
moment
of time

She let
it dance around
her nostrils
tongue playing
with the plumes of desire
eyes flickering

through the smoke
those
eyes
saints alive
those
eyes

the eyes
of a girl
who once lived
in the basement
of the girl next door.

“Those’ll kill ya”
he informed her
from across the bar
“Who says?”
 she purred
“They all do”

She met his eye,
raised her left
brow
and
whispered low,
“All of them, huh?”

She took
a long drag and exhaled
a bubble of smoke upwards
inhaling through her nose
contrails
from a scarlet bottom lip

He brushed the back of
his hand across
the side of her head
She blew a smoke ring
and remained silent

Until
it touched
the tip
of his nose and
disintegrated.
“Now that’ll kill you

Rene ~ 2013

Velvet Elvis

everybody got a Velvet Elvis hanging up in the closet somewhere everybody got a guilty treasure saving up like a millionaire everybody got a bad lovesong they saaang along with the radio everybody got a Velvet Elvis yeah, you do but, you just don't know
yeah i hear you say you don't watch much TV
except for the Documentaries and Planet Earth but is that The Smokey and The Bandit Collection i see there, in VHS format in your entertainment center on the low shelf behind the brandy snifter photograph of your cat let's watch it at my place mom's at Bingo tonight

everybody got a Velvet Elvis hanging up in the closet somewhere everybody got a guilty treasure saving up like a millionaire everybody got a bad lovesong they saang along with the radio everybody got a Velvet Elvis yeah you do but, you just don't know
why don't you grab us a bag of Doritos and some Tabasco and a roll of paper towels
and since you is up a couple a beers and one for you, too an' shimmy on next to me with your mighty tighty acid…

The Passive Bucket

This was inspired by the excellent,informative Hearth & Home series on Robert Frost's Banjo this passage in particular: "At first I innocently accepted the fraternal invitations to visit the study, feeling that when my day’s work was done I earned a right to rest and read. But I soon found that this was not the idea. I was not to read; but to be read to. I was not to enjoy the flowers, pictures, fire, and books; but to keep them in order for my lord to enjoy. I was also to be a passive bucket, into which he was to pour all manner of philosophic, metaphysical, and sentimental rubbish."
The first part is written by the lord of the manor, the second is the servant's voice.

you are
a vessel
into which
I pour
My knowledge,
My understanding My sorrows
and My passion of
a world you
know not
My sharing of it strengthens Me and
enriches you

i am no more than
a passive bucket
into which
you gaze
seeking
your reflection
i much prefer
the hearth scrubbing of my world than the self ri…

The Out Of Towners

I bought two pairs of shoes yesterday at DSW. The total cost was $129.00. They weren't even a flirty little pair of heels. No, folks, these were boring slip on loafers. Business shoes. And I was freaking the fook out. Paris Hilton probably spends that much on her way to buy shoes. If I suddenly became rich I wonder if I'd ever lose my blue collar girl sensibility. Would I still gasp/shriek at a $400.00 price tag on a T-shirt? I have a hard enough time paying over $10.00 for one. There is line from "Working Girl" that my sisters and I often quote. It is from a scene where Melanie Griffith and her pal ( played brilliantly by Joan Cusack), are just a couple of girls from Staten Island, NY, playing dress up in the fairytale world of Melanie's well-heeled bosses' ( Sigourney Weaver) closet. "$6,000 and it's not even leath-ah (leather)" We laugh because that is so us. The utter insanity of $6,000.00 cocktail dress. Why would you pay over $500 fo…

Jump In Aidan

Neptune had a daughter her name was Marie  she loved a boy named, Aidan born of fire was he
He danced  along the shore as she sang songs  from the sea
Jump in Aidan come dance with me I'm just a lonely girl in the great big sea
Dive into to my arms sail away with me
Jump in Aidan come dance with me
Now Aidan really longed
to into her dive but one dance with Marie he'd never survive
so tragically the offer
h
e had to decline
b
ut his passion for her would never subside
Jump in Aidan come dance with me I'm just a lonely girl in the great big sea
Dive into to my arms sail away with me Jump in Aidan come dance with me
Come dance with me,Aidan every night  she does call swim into me,lover 
Cry her waves  as they fall though theirs is a love that will never be
It is  as endless as
Eternity
Peace - Rene 2009

Down The Line

My Father enjoying a bit of heaven on earth - photo courtesy of our family photo collection
The smell Of an oxford shirt
Fresh from the clothesline
 Reminds Me Of You
 I close my eyes
As I breathe in Deeply
 To Be With You
 At the Kitchen table
 Me with me OJ
 You with your Cup of tea
 Morning light Dances across Glassware
Flashing Brilliantly
 Taking A picture
Framing the moment
In my memory
In Your Memory
 The smell Of an oxford shirt
Fresh from the clothesline
 Is Your Way Of saying Hi I love you
And we'll meet again
Someday Down the line
Dedicated to my father who passed away 8-19-08
And so our year of "Firsts" without our Father 
comes to a close on this day. 
Peace - Rene 2009

A Little Plaid Diary

"I know I can write. A few of my stories are good...much of my diary is vivid and alive but...it remains to be seen whether I really have talent". "If I read book that impresses me, I have to take myself firmly by the hand, before I mix with other people; otherwise they would think my mind rather queer." "The nicest part is being able to write down all my thoughts and feelings, otherwise I'd absolutely suffocate." "In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.I simply can't build my hopes on a foundation of confusion, misery and death...I think...peace and tranquility will return again". All quotations by Anne Frank I discovered the Diary Of Anne Frank in an attic of all places. It was in a stack of my older sister's school books. Growing up, the attic was one of my favorite hangouts. It was kind of cool and fort-like in it's design. There were two levels. The first level was easy to walk aro…

Stay

in the house by the leaning tree a candle in the window beckons me
her front porch casual familiar style an easy going friendly stay a while smile
i trace her railings enter inside she is warm, welcoming and willing to provide
come, fill me up her song  whisperedin my ear i’ll be your home
while you are here
she’s missed the sound 
of heartbeats  deep breaths,down her halls the gentle, urgent pleading in a lover's call
i am your space that secret sanctuary  you desire to dream, to create let my mysteries inspire
curl up  in my nooks let my charms fascinate look through my eyes meditate
love me
i’ll shelter you safe harbor at last cherish me; your future wrapped in my past
let me live once again come dwell within me the light in my window burns for thee

Remember The Laughter

In my life I have attended many wakes. Growing up Irish-Catholic they were a near weekly event that I was morally obligated to attend. If I had so much as brushed shoulders with the recently deceased at the supermarket, while they were alive of course, I was expected to be in attendance. By the age of twenty I had been inside of every single funeral parlor in my town. Each one with their own set of professional mourners. Each one rated by this same professional mourner society. See and be seen, was the Rule of Wakes. If you did not attend Jim O’Donnell’s wake you had better have been on your deathbed otherwise your absence would be duly noted and gossiped about.


With all of this experience under my belt, attending wakes, for me, is something I am not unfamiliar with. I expect crying and uneasiness. I know that sometimes a silent hug is better than trying to say the right thing. And for God's sake please don’t mention how peaceful the deceased looks. All of these wakes were for peop…