Skip to main content

son of a gun

i
keep
a light 
on and a 
sharp word, pointed, honed
and waiting for the windmills of

his 
mind 
games. He 
keeps my love 
letters in his gun
safe. And just outside my windowpane

his
heart
screams wild
seduction.
Don't get too close, girl
he'll eat you up, everybody  

keeps
on
saying.
Walk away
while you got the sense
and half a chance, to break and run.

I
laugh
and soak
cigarettes
in his sexy talk
and gasoline just for the bang

I love
my sweet l'il son of a gun.

Rene~2013
Labels:

Comments

  1. PearlOctober 15, 2012 at 9:02 PM

    WOW, Rene. That was crazy good.

    I want to love a son of a gun...

    Pearl

    ReplyDelete
  2. Brian MillerOctober 15, 2012 at 9:58 PM

    smiles...keeps your letters in the gun safe and your heart outside the window....interesting....soaking the cigarettes in promises...hope they dont go up in smoke you know....and in the end you love him....interesting...smiles....

    ReplyDelete
  3. UnknownOctober 15, 2012 at 11:50 PM

    Love can be a scary place, a complicated thing or a saving grace. This is a dark one, no doubt, but it comes from a place of light.

    ReplyDelete
  4. LillyOctober 16, 2012 at 2:09 AM

    I soaked my cigarettes in promises and gasoline once and it blew my head off - love can be a dark, edgy place, bit like Russian routlette at times and can go either way. I love this. Truly. You clever writer you.

    ReplyDelete
  5. UnknownOctober 16, 2012 at 6:24 AM

    Thanks Lilly! I have missed you my Australian princess . :)

    ReplyDelete
  6. HelenOctober 16, 2012 at 11:19 AM

    Pearl said it best ... crazy good!! I did love one ~ once upon a time.

    ReplyDelete
  7. VosmickOctober 16, 2012 at 12:48 PM

    taking the fall
    onto the brick caterwaul?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. UnknownOctober 16, 2012 at 3:42 PM

      Freak incargo

      Delete
    2. VosmickOctober 16, 2012 at 4:46 PM

      Curple bugle

      Delete
    3. UnknownOctober 16, 2012 at 4:51 PM

      insidious pustule

      Delete
    4. VosmickOctober 17, 2012 at 12:32 PM

      After many reads, I cannot help but think of Frank Chambers...James Cain's son of a gun in The Postman Always Rings Twice.

      Delete
    5. UnknownOctober 17, 2012 at 8:49 PM

      I like the way you think, Vosmick

      Delete
  8. Tess KincaidOctober 16, 2012 at 2:06 PM

    A Don Quixote son of a gun...love this...

    ReplyDelete
  9. ShawnOctober 16, 2012 at 4:54 PM

    I so love this. Soaking cigarettes in promises and gasoline...brilliant.

    ReplyDelete
  10. TimoteoOctober 16, 2012 at 4:59 PM

    This was so good I'll drop a few (imaginary) pennies into your cup there.

    ReplyDelete
  11. ayalaOctober 16, 2012 at 5:40 PM

    This is awesome!

    ReplyDelete
  12. Irish GumboOctober 16, 2012 at 9:24 PM

    This is so damn good I think I sprained something liking it. "promises and gasoline" is a novel in waiting, Rene.

    ReplyDelete
  13. MaryOctober 16, 2012 at 9:42 PM

    Wow, this was a good poem. Reading at dVerse, I hadn't realized it was a MAG until the very end. Love these lines:

    for the bang
    I love

    my son
    of a gun

    Bravo for a clever approach!

    ReplyDelete
  14. BeachannyOctober 16, 2012 at 10:32 PM

    Clever, smart, and Kool...very effective!

    ReplyDelete
  15. Susan AndersonOctober 17, 2012 at 2:52 PM

    Smart and hip. Liked it.

    =)

    ReplyDelete
  16. ♥ BrajaOctober 18, 2012 at 9:16 AM

    Yeah I'm with Pearl: that was crazy-good...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. UnknownOctober 19, 2012 at 3:48 PM

      Son of a gun should hang out with the vodka girls :)

      Delete
  17. MichaelOctober 18, 2012 at 10:37 PM

    wow so good

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Please drop a penny in a poet's hat :

Popular posts from this blog

bridesmaid

Image via Magpie Tales i won't be leaving here with you nor will you be staying with me for any longer than you see fit that is just the way of it it is the silent refrain of my being i won't be leaving here with you but i will stay, until my time is done as your ceremonial chosen one no, this won't be my last tour though it is the first time i won't be leaving here with you shh, now, darling. this is what i do i see it in your eyes, our time's drawing to a close. please don't mind  the tears  they come, they go, it's true... i won't be leaving here with you Rene ~ December 8, 2012
40 comments
Read more

why does she write so much?

She wrote... not always of what she knew but of what she wanted to know She wrote because... it came more naturally to her  than speaking She wrote because... she was a bit more s ure of  her words  that way She wrote because... no one was listening anyway She wrote... to free her thoughts and feelings otherwise she'd surely drown  She wrote because...  she was s urrounded  by stories begging for release f rom the eyes of everyday strangers She wrote of... things that tickled the armpit of her heart  and made her sing or things that stubbed the toe of her brain  and made her scream She wrote because... some words needed to see more of each other and putting them together in a sentence  was a lovely way of doing that She wrote because... it was only through h er words that she felt d esired She wrote because... she was incredibly s elf absorbed She wrote because... she was addicted to t he color white and she coul...
35 comments
Read more