Not The Rockefellers

i could write a  book or a tele- novela bleed the worlds out across my  coffee table sticky scribblings tattoo banana skins will you call me or am i  "it" again you chase me i chase you you tease me i kiss you we fall down you say  you still love her then i get up yeah, whatever i could  kick your ass or rub your back forever you annoy me with all your  guilty pleasures i'd like to  flick you just like a cigarette but then I'd sneak around and light you up again you chase me i chase you you tease me i kiss you we fall down you say  you still  love her then i give up yeah, whatever Rene ~ 2013 For 1oo Word Song This weeks song is "Are You Experienced?" Jimi... Love Some days it can leave you feeling not necessarily stoned, but beautiful And then other days not necessarily alone, but lonely

Image via Magpie Tales I always said I'd wait for you til the cows came home a problem since I live nowhere near a farm and seldom is heard an E I E I O outside of PS 152 yet here I sit for years forever and a Tuesday through radio days and long distance nights I am your eternal Gibraltar your faithful winged backed rude world blinder in time I may go but today, like every day I stand guard, ready to serve as Gershwin melodies crumble through windows and walls turn to clay Rene ~ 2013 For Magpie Tales

November Lace, 2009, Rene Foran It was nearly 90 degrees in that cozy little kitchen the smell of home cooking had attached itself to every molecule of every acrylic holiday sweater her every effort to help prepare the feast was waved off and redirected to the family room where a stony, silent, football viewing Mt Rushmore occupied the couch, a loveseat, and three folding chairs she wandered down  to the basement where she was years removed from the circle and miles behind the conversation so she drifted along searching where was her world? where was her piece? where did she belong? she slipped away  from the fray unnoticed up to her childhood room through the bedroom window and onto the rooftop poetic: " she sat arms hugging knees surveying life,  the leafless trees spindly branches claw the sky scratching for sun, to heaven they cry psalms of wisdom, strength and grace woven in No

prepare ye, all from the way of the storm batten down them hatches loosed hell's about to be born from butchers, from bakers from rosary  shakers your children's sand kingdoms are ripe for the taking no neck is safe stretchin' high above the ruled their wind, a wolf's call soothin' sheep easily fooled prepare ye, citizens read true intentions well keep your wits aimed and ready on the pantry shelf Rene ~ November 2012 For Magpie Tales Image ( via Magpie Tales) Andrew Wyeth, Squall, 1986

waiting aching sensibility shaken hope is gelatinous time a river of sand i want to punch through dimensions like rice paper and cover us growing inside of me - you this time victorious quietly miraculous I wait with joy full of grace a warrior of the good fight to name a love to kiss a life “The strongest of all warriors are these two — Time and Patience.” ― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace Rene ~ November 12, 2013 for Magpie Tales

derelict love rise above the lust of broken wings to mend you pretend all's well split seam hell spills no tell secrets across jet-stream vignette postcards from your heart to the hard of flight to hold tight reign *on a love insane Rene ~ November 8, 2012 For d'Verse Poets FormForAll-Than Bauk The Than Bauk is a climbing rhyme of Burmese origin

you wake me and steal me up to the railroad tracks our feet sending silver lit avalanches of gravel tumbling down as we climb holding hands rails running  well rehearsed lines beneath our feet the moon tunnels under covers you kiss me alive Rene ~ 2013

Charis, Lake Ediza, California, 1937 by Edward Weston ( via Magpie Tales) it doesn't matter what you say what you think of me i own my truths and my lies with steely eyed confidence it doesn't matter that my body is not perfect for pictures every fold a triumphant valley every scar a sacred highway i doesn't matter that you leave me stuck between hard places i know my territory i don't wish for more beyond fences it does not matter if i never see you again i will be grateful our paths crossed and i'll wish you well my friend Rene ~ November 3, 2012 Fireblossom has the Real Toads channelling our inner opposite to write poems that do NOT reflect our true feelings. Link up and tell everyone like it's not. This is also a d'Verse Poets photo prompt submission Image ( via d'Verse Poets) credited to SueAnn

The thing I remember most about Esme was that amidst her thrift store furnishings she had one of those French provincial type telephones. The kind that Elizabeth Taylor had in Butterfield 8.  She'd say that all the time too, most likely while fingering a crumb of Captain's Wafer out of her cleavage and delicately placing it in her mouth like Beluga caviar...  "Same fuckin' phone as was in da movie." Esme's world was a gyre of Paul Klee paintings, Popular Club pantsuits with Hermes scarves, teak tv trays, and Taster's Choice Instant Coffee. "Honey, just put in a splash of half and half and then a spoonful of Cremora...Tastes just the same and you'll save on the cream." On Sundays, we'd watch Masterpiece Theatre while sipping on SaveMart Tea in Royal Doulton bone china cups.  Pinkies up. That was pure Esme.  Indulge commonly. Live mightily.  Rene ~ November 1, 2012 For d'verse poets "Meeting The Bar" challenge "Po