Not The Rockefellers

color me  shamrock carved  switchblade kitsch blue cacophony ivy hit me up with your hot sauce your devil pepper weaponry  light me up & tack weld my libido into  smiley faces something useful © 2014-Rene *image via magpie tales

       "my bed" photo by Tracey Emin sliding down supine moon swept dais hipster mummy's gnawed repose © 2014-Rene

feast in the house of Simon,1610, El Greco  enjoy what's spilt leave hold all your pseudo first world guilt breathe it in and don't let's start soon there'll come  a worse part  just ignore this  squandering chase your loyalties  wandering let the lady sing past the salad days come the bitter grapes grown to stomp your trifling © 2014-Rene

Lee Plaza Hotel, Detroit, photo by Bonnie Beechler ( via Magpie Tales ) ah, you were not my lighthouse shining up from the bottom of a well nor was i your brave daisy bursting through suffocating pavement we were not conjoined hearts, cores livers, kidneys  or even onions and we won’t ever be dreaming big or staying strong together as old souls so what... we’re not kitchen cliches  or  refrigerator door  metaphors you are  you i am me and we do get along immaculately  separately  © 2014-Rene

   The Sleeping Gypsy, 1897, by Henri Rousseau thank you that was very honorable the way you held me mercifully  in your infinite arms of  immaculate plasma  yes. i was in need i had danced with a bleak song curled up in his lap -the crater of a darkside moon inhaled his pipe -a rare child’s final farewell and now i am spun gold i am the brightest flash  of the upper limb i am the moment of discovery and  this sun is a whirling dervish  © 2014-Rene