Not The Rockefellers

Charlotte Gainsbourg ~ AnOther via Magpie Tales come dancing they ask me i'd rather stay in and play with the pipers climb their  hooks swing from their  holy little arias like private monkeybars snake charmed, smiling i can hear the beating of their blood in every blessed word how amazing how sweet  the soloist struggles my sticky fingers  reach touching  blood, wine cigarette ash and tears what a lovely paste  for pictures come dancing they ask me just try to  be like the  others it's  no use and senseless i'm thrilled by  the company of my pipers Rene ~ 2013

something in your eyes reminds me of Alaska Sitka spruce green longings dream scraped midnight sun i would crawl hands and knees sparking Tsar-fire over the last edge of your earth to draw breath of you i would forsake my golden gods drop my armour, heavy into the hearth of dear mother for a single drink of you something in your eyes my soul pines for Alaska to count the moons on your fingers weathered perfect my thoughts linger Rene ~ January 22, 2013 Ejote for d'Verse Poets: Open Link Night #80

"hands" Image via Magpie Tales thumpa da thump i catch myself caught up in our spinning rhythm go round merrily galloping, we bright, sweet, lovely you then me you then me 조금 jogeum 조금 jogeum 경주 gyeongju 경주 gyeongju together we lace restless thoroughbred thundering pulses one strong infinite loop Rene ~ January 20, 2013 For Magpie Tales 152 and D'verse Poets Poetics: Foreign tongue my foreign words are: 조금  jogeum,  the Korean word for chasing 경주  gyeongju, the Korean word for racing

Albert de Belleroche, 1885, head and shoulders of a young woman You're late...                                                     Tell me again,                                                    Why am I here? Just pull your hair back follow my lead Do I have anything between my teeth?                                                   Besides my                                                  ass? That's enough                                                Never heard you                                               complain before. Where were you ?                                              Annie's back. No!                                            Easy, Jake                                            she just needs a                                            friend I need to know that I can count on you, Pam.                                            You can                                            things are differen

eclosion interrupted cautious chrysalis stalled immaculate tentative toes tickle the water for temperature silken stagnation swaddled east to west south from north no midnight love no velvet flight no sip of nectar frozen local overwinter migratory dreams pump their wings nightly a world an inch away too soon now too late much later Rene ~ January 13, 2013 Image via Magpie Tales

Image ( via Magpie Tales) Google Images blood stains freckle snow-white linen like rusted lace cover me with wild adrenaline sloppy,  split lip  apologetic kisses i hide my face yet  still i hear sharp-edged  marbles  in your mouth tumbling over scotch rocks and little red last straws nobody knows this more that doesn't  meet  their eye no news  is good weather no bruise dear it'll get better we soothe ourselves with lullabies and true lies just rest now, dear leave hold  of your world pull up a chair let go of my hair the taste of bile  once on your lips, how quick the monster slips  i wait i pray you drift soon, soundly sweetly a little boy on soiled sheets a broken spirit spinning webs i lick my wounds under cover my jaw locked my mind loaded Rene ~ January 10, 2013 d'Verse Poets, Meeting The Bar-The Medium Is The Message For 100 Word Song This weeks song: "Debonair by The Afghan Whigs" A rough song about substance

Image ( via Magpie Tales ) by Daniel Murtagh to watch her slip into the silken night  longing diaphanous to boldly witness such radiant vulnerability without a claim to keep her pressed under glass, instinctual yet hopelessly dangerous to know this brutal age  old ache is to have lived a life across the threshold Rene ~ 2013

Image: PublicDomain.com God, man It's been a long time since I've had someone whistle in my kitchen It's quite the delight Ahhh...you made coffee And you're making french toast! You are a saint You gotta fiddle with that knob on the left rear burner Like this It's a pain in the butt sometimes Personally, I think it just likes the extra attention Mmm...your ear smells like cinnamon not fair, man, that... not fair at all your ass looks better in my sweatpants than mine does I now have to kill myself After I eat a loaf of french toast, though You want some orange juice? freshly squeezed...somewhere Tell me, again Why is it we never were? Rene ~ January 5, 2013 For 100 Word Song The song prompt was Dan Fogleberg's Same Old Auld Lang Syne This is my spin on the classic

Image: public-domain.com sabre tooth dagger bright killer silently waits prey on the threshold Rene ~ January 3, 2013 Careful out there, man

shadow ~ photo credit : Rene you try every day to pin down clouds shake some soul from the sun you try because you're just so damn tired of small voice assumptions so you take it upon yourself to comb the truth from the beard of the legend you end up lost choking on a squall of cracker crumbs Rene ~ January 2, 2013

Image: public domain images i don't believe in superstitions they only breed unholy ignorance can't no rabbit's foot could ever fix i don't find trouble in fearsome digits when there are way too many demonic idiots that have me counting to six six six i ain't skeered of crossin' black cats or tippin' toes 'round every street crack to keep my mamma upright and i'm never one for cussin' when i'm given a bakers dozen 12 + 1 is perfectly fine good things for me it seems always happen in thirteens i don't know what else there is to say i guess i'm lucky lucky that way Rene ~ January 1, 2013 Happy, Lucky 2013 For d'Verse Poets Open Link Night Week 77 ~ Happy New Year!