Not The Rockefellers

Potatoes photo by Agustin Berrocal  this fire a cradle under a waning moon for rockets  pulled from the earth and kissed Midas gold by smitten Gods, peasants and spangled stars this fire ritual fuel for launching cowboy sunrise revolutions Rene ~ July 2013

Public domain image via vintageprintables.com the day i found my ways i caught myself in a tangle tightly twined  around a forkful of  spaghetti from a can't  just pullin' the wool  over easy under the radar love, life, and my pursuits; a hapless sock thread ensnared by a tack on the threshold  unwinding, revealing a novice habit trail from door to table, to chair, to bed just livin' but barely breaking a sweat  smokin' a bowl of dead ends Is that all there is? Peggy Lee, blinked lookin' for  high bars in low places forcin' a smile, though her eyes ordered a double some things are better left unsaid but winked at?...hell yeah I caught your act, you charlatan  I say, strippin' off my socks  I know your ways You ought to play  out in the mud in your good shoes  maybe, someday Finally Rene~July 2013 For 100 Word Song The so...

Waking, Walking, Singing, in the Next Dimension? 1979 by Morris Graves via Magpie Tales dawn is a feeling warmth that spreads from shoulder to cheek freedom means boundaries landmarks of habit indicators of progress  voices are familiar songs  each new generation produces its convincing covers life is smelly but you'll always know you are home Rene ~ June 2, 2013 For Randy Pierce and The Mighty Quinn

"Ponytail" by Last Exit up from the soles a restless silken quake this life this absolute death a serenade unapologetic Rene ~ May 26, 2013 For Magpie Tales

Image: Helen Ward via Magpie Tales It's always a sight at the trattorie when wild city critters make a scene crumbled cake, candelabras chaos and weasels in starched collars paper crowns, rumpled nightgowns won't someone turn that racket down? reptilian wait staff spin and slither a tortoise brings breakfast in time for dinner but there... in the midst of all the clatter a honey badger pot scrubber for whom the noise doesn't matter he keeps to himself, he doesn't care doesn't give a whit about the whole affair he sticks to his task, gets it done then leaves the city moon for the country sun Rene ~ April 28, 2013

Between Heaven and Hell, 1989 by Jacek Yerka you never baked pies that weren't worth the penance why the hell try you never learned how to keep your hands to myself saw no reason why you drew crooked lines with sharp knives, in quicksand (maybes) set in stone got your momma's hair and your daddy's long, long legs rolling soul is your own did i never see? your feet barely grazed the ground i told myself lies time to let you go cut your threads out of my nest gypsy moths fill the sky ......................... it was a fine fall and apples were in season when i said goodbye Rene ~ March 29, 2013 For 100 Word Song - Sorry For It All and Magpie Tales

Picasso, faun-horse-bird, 1936 she sang you in like a sea serpent charmed i'm sure once on her lips a lifetime on your knees begging your once limber tongue now tied in despair poor thing such a pity tempted by that pretty sly bird worse than her song was her empty reward silence and now you dream of diving black horses screaming dragging you down under a shameful sun drowning so easily you surrender your grip freedom Rene ~ March 17, 2013 For Magpie Tales

Meal Beach, Burra Isles, Shetland by Robin Gosnall  you are the morning sun on my neck and the moon over my shoulder am i the maddest hot magician of your rogue imagination you are my true astrological high and the puller of my tides i ride the waves of your affection balancing physics and nature you are an unfinished blood sonnet a night song a prophet of rhyme i run without stopping to breathe in catching you as you turn away you remind me with the truest eye such great love is not a given i stand tall in the force of your truth kiss your head and leave you to go Rene ~ March 10, 2013 For Magpie Tales , 100 Word Song and d'Verse Poets The 100 Word Song prompt is "Better Dig Two" by The Band Perry and is my d'Verse Poetics: InterActions song choice

Image: ( via Magpie Tales ) TheFoxandRaven     what i made of her: a pouty lipped wringing wet pre-coital national velvet era box top version of liz taylor i left behind in the attic with her narcoleptic libido and her a&p bags  full of half finished coming of age dime store beach trash she a dark secret, a red sash heart murmur, a wicked invention of an adolescent  ouija board imagination she now screams blue,  dripping wet and seething  down my dream halls how DARE I leave! how FUCKED UP to remember! pillow flipping off her midnight power surge i drown her out  in buckets of tidal sweat good lord, girlie go the hell to sleep go to hell to sleep Rene ~ 2013

Venus de Milo with Drawers, Salvador Dali, 1936 make me the keeper of your trinkets your dirty little thrill bits your moustache wax your un-pressed slacks load 'em up here daddy bring me your holy psycho laundry slip me the honey in your locket lemme be the hamper for your pocket the bureau of your shame the strongbox for your flame just scoop 'em up sugar fill me with your sacred goods and plenties i can be your safe house Aphrodite or Venus, more politely the cocoon for your treasures chiffonier of your pleasures you can finger me rightly with cocktail stirrer charm nightly spill 'em all out baby your wicked riches are safe with me i'll be your lover your junk drawer your doctor your drunk whore your casket of faces your keepsake oasis go 'head and file me someplace where you'll find me my drawer's always open your need is the key Rene ~ February 24, 2013 For Magpie Tales

"November Lace" ~ Photo by Rene marble notebook in hand 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 November lace"   the air felt good against her flushed cheeks a beautiful sunset was now in progress she was thankful for this she was thankful for finding her peace she belonged right here, right now to this moment Excerpted from "November Lace" by Rene Rene ~ February 9, 2013 For d'Verse Poetics: The Anecdote

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

"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?                                 ...

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 T...

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