Not The Rockefellers

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 p...

Image from public domain files this new awakening has stirred up my sensibilities comfortable truths like worn out shoes can't support me now i walk the line between safe and perfectly reckless barefoot on the edge of a sea glass mountain waiting for the push or the shove or the fall as i stand here still stuck in this borrowed dress, life and time laughing at the imagined cocktail party talk that would undoubtedly ring through the parlor of my funeral i'll bet you never thought she go'an do a thing like that feckin' brave, her taking the jump knowin' the fall good love'll do that to a body may we all fall so hard Rene~October 23, 2012 For 100 Word Song it is my new thing to take it to 111 Cuz I'm a punk like that @writesidemama, aka “mama” has chosen this week’s  writing prompt song, Falling To Pieces from Faith No More. All about indecision. I know from that. Th...

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

i was a carpenter's dream you never could shut up about that i was more than just geometry you didn't own you lacked the tools and sense to figure that out hormones and swelling glands navigating your every move yet you bothered with me when I couldn't even stand myself if only i could have changed my breasts or cut away my ethnic nose maybe our conversations could have gone somewhere instead of falling flat like your idiotic punchlines i was always the straight man in your perfect, curvy world forever waiting for the hook to yank you back truth be told behind the forced laughter you had no idea that I didn't mind Rene ~ September 2012 I was just feeling like a "big for her size" 14 year old this morning... And this is the havoc I chose to wreak on the planet. It's a little thin after the hook brings you back part... Work in progress. I'll flesh it out a little more. Maybe. If I feel like i...

you can't stop it screams   your name licks  your shoulders and claws your back your hips born  to the rhythm the hook a roadmap of your soul your nights  restless roping the wind mining diamonds on the sun you stop to  breathe and all the world is still as rockets ~ what the world needs now you tell yourself is a good old fashioned sweet l'il  supernova a common  natural disaster inglorious bastard  enemy t o bring us  all together Rene ~ July 2012 Public domain image, Supernova fragment, NASA

i know the face but i've misplaced the name along with my car keys and that song that goes la di da di da you know the one c'mon help me out here hey, how about the time we bought apples at the Acme i couldn't get over how delicious was it September? i'm trying to remember don't all the best apples happen in September? your father liked September back to school with Robert Hall new jackets shoes and socks and don't forget pencil cases and book covers what a damn racket the cup goes in the cupboard that's how i remember neat trick, huh? i like tricks just like a kid otherwise i'd go in circles all day looking for corners Rene ~ January 2012

Mostafa Habibi Inspired? Click on over to Magpie Tales my dreams are all so grand the world shines with such great light morning wakes wrathful demons fear and doubt have me in their sights root bound in my future inventions i'm the mother of stillborn intentions i'd love to entertain success if i only could get myself dressed... so i'll just stay stuck here it isn't yet high tide bee on a lollipop stuck here the view is quite sublime oh i'll just stay stuck here it isn't all that bad i'll just stay stuck here the sunsets are kinda rad... one day i'll get out and in that boat you'll see i'll paddle out to middle of it all you'll be so proud of me but what if a tsunami hits! how the hell would I survive? and what if I do? what do I do? will the sharks eat me up alive? so ... i'll just stay stuck here ahhh, all this time for me i'll just stay stuck here sunburned, hungry, thirsty bored outta skull stuck here i c...

Lunch, George Tooker, 1964, Columbus Museum of Art windshield wipers high five neon just around the bend a place to rest an elbow and fill an empty rumble take a place among the same boat hungry anonymous what'll ya have, hon? besides the coffee I mean tired eyes and shoulders shroud spoonfuls of sighs and secrets eating words sipping scenery miles to go before sleep how 'bout a warmup for your soul to keep red eyed Jesus in a styrofoam cup carry you home soon soon enough carry you home soon soon enough Rene ~ December 2011 For Magpie Tales photo by Rene for Magpie Tales

i don't like eggs but you knew this already i know you're thinking such a terrible waste but it's not, you see i'm feeding them to the dog she loves them just as much as i know she loved you and the way you walked her as if every single thing she sniffed mattered to you as well sorry, dear pardon my red wine opera crowd violin string tugging (your words) i ramble at breakfast like a fussy percolator but you knew this already morning is when i am most honest and vulnerable i know that's why you left after dinner oh god dammit you i miss you so much what i did before us is a mystery and what i do now is insanity i'm frying up eggs just to smell them again and to perhaps coax you down, from wherever you are for breakfast did you know i believe that there is still a ghost of a chance Rene Foran ~  April 2011 photo by Tess Kincaid for Magpie Tales click for more info