Not The Rockefellers

seismic inactivity

2012-01-28T14:43:00.001-05:00

I am an earthquake hot spot
a jenga nightmare
no room for that one delicate
last slip of a straw
crazy
I know
but I cannot find the fault

so I breathe
without exhaling
and I stretch
elbows turned inwards-always
and I wait
for it all to fall apart
or the joke to crack

Rene ~ January 2012

mercury rising

2012-01-25T07:06:00.000-05:00

she serves it up
raw
not to the timid

she socks it to you
straight
you chase her

you fall, tripping
she catches you from
the corner of her eye

lured in
you're the fair game
of her midnight dragnet

no stories, no way out
no names
just safe words

Rene ~ January 2012
For Magpie Tales

~

Miss Wasabi don't hold hands!
you want that?
go to noodle house.

the love bird glass

2012-01-21T00:00:00.000-05:00

the milk so much sweeter
the truth so much easier
from the inside of
the love bird glass

fill it with joy

or pour out sorrows
hands in prayer surround

the love bird glass

listen to the rain

hit the roof like a heartbeat
quench a thirsty soul from
the love bird glass

Rene ~ May 2011
Revised January 2012
For d'Verse "Meet The Bar"

On blogging

2012-01-18T21:34:00.001-05:00

This blog.
It's been a godsend to me in so many ways.

A place to write.
A place to organize my thoughts.
A place to let my freak flag fly.
A place to make friends, from places that I have to put on my glasses to find on a map.
A place to grow.
A place to communicate.

The world is a smaller, more accessible place thanks to blogging.

Every day I mix with:
Forward thinkers, mass transit raconteurs, flash fictionistas, guerrilla poets, buzzword hurlers, one-line wonders, one ups-manshippers, Über Moms and Super Dads.

I don't remember a time when I've been surrounded by so many talented, funny people...
or so much unbelievable heartbreak.

I am quiet by nature.
I get a few words and one-liners in,
but I often feel like an observer in real life group conversation.

It's usually because I feel I don't have anything interesting to add.

Or:
My jokes and references are too arcane,
I am so out of the loop on post modernism and I can't even fake the funk,
I am doing all I can to keep up by just listening,
I can't keep up with the rapid fire pace of the conversation,
It is just way too heated...

Or I am fidgeting
to avoid eye contact
because I'm afraid of being called on
which always ends up with me saying the wrong thing.
And then being hideously shunned for the rest of the conversation.
Banished like an Amish.

And isn't being ignored the worst?
You say something and then it just hangs in the air unacknowledged, like a nun's fart.
In your face awkward.
Indifference stinks.

And when it happens online, it's not so much in your face
but you can dream up bitchy little vignettes involving side eyes, smirks
and WTF DM's behind your back.

Don't you do that?
C'mon tell me you don't do that...

Getting back to the blogging thing...
For someone who is anxious socially,
For someone who struggles for the right words.
For someone who just needs a little more confidence to put them out there.
For someone like me...

Blogging is indeed a godsend.

It provides a place, and all of the time needed, to organize thoughts and lay them out exactly how i'd dearly love to say them in real life...
Someday.
Blogger heal thyself :)

From the heart
Rene ~ January 2012

speech bubbles

2012-01-15T17:04:00.001-05:00

underwater,undercover
i call my lovers and fears
to the table
by their proper names

i make them swim
for their supper
as i sing Summertime
in a dead ringer Ella Fitzgerald

underwater, undercover
life does flow without a struggle
and the right words cliff dive
off the tip of my tongue

but as in dreams, oh this loveliness
never meets the air
and what does is never fully understood

January 2012 ~ Rene
For Magpie Tales
Happy 100th Tess

hubbards blues

2012-01-14T19:50:00.001-05:00

broken moon on my left
crooked river on my right
got my holey soles dug in
halfway to China deep
in the hungry belly of the night

out in the side-yard dogs are barking
and there's blood in the air
split my lip on a broken dream teacup no bones about it friend
this old mother's cupboard is bare

can't blame this on the moon
or the way the river run
don't want your sympathy cuz
it's what I did, or failed to do
that's made me come undone

but you can pray for me, child
tell the Lord I can't do it alone
send me angels bearing biscuits
and red eye gravy
whiskey and a big ol hambone

Rene ~ January 2012
For The Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

constant towers

2012-01-08T15:13:00.000-05:00

Photo by Lee Friedlander, 1977
The Mag is open for submissions. Click on over!

An imagined conversation between Father Francis Duffy and Yul Brynner as the King of Siam

hard,eh?
to be rooted
planted at the crossroads

watching the whole world
wig out and fly in your face
refusing to kowtow

face forward, mate
stare down the dawn
with eyes like campfires

let ' em see
let 'em know
never were men braver

Rene ~ January 2012

rebirth

2012-01-02T13:26:00.000-05:00

River, Marina Moevs, 2005
Inspired? Check out Magpie Tales

i ain't going down
to the river to pray
gonna build me a fortress
gonna get the hell away
getting my ass off the grid
getting it good and hid
no i ain't going down
to the river to pray

i ain't going down
to wait for no king
it's live free or die here
all or nothing
all i'm serving is fish
it ain't on a silver dish
no i ain't going down
to wait for no king

i ain't going down
to the river to cry
left my lover in the city
didn't even say goodbye
pulled the wool off my head
found i was almost dead
no i ain't going down
to the river to cry

and i ain't going back
to the city to die

Rene ~ January 2012

girl on ice

2011-12-27T19:30:00.001-05:00

Image: Bert Stern
Inspired? Check out Magpie Tales

they tickle you with tinsel
roll you in pretty paper and
then set you on fire

they place you on the lips
of dream makers
housewives and presidents

pulled in you become oxygen
you slip out smoke and mirror smiling
drifting, scratching

life's a french inhaled curlicue
and it's sweet for a time
before they put you to sleep

a thousand years stretched out
like a cat in the bed of the H
happy birthday to you all

Hollywood
and
good night

Rene ~ December 2011
Happy New Year

stuck

2011-12-11T13:30:00.001-05:00

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 could sure use some company

kinda sucks being stuck here
say, could you spare a line for me?

had enough being stuck here
oh thank god i'm not a tree

Rene ~ December 2011

Joe

2011-12-05T20:06:00.001-05:00

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

just like james taylor

2011-12-03T11:41:00.001-05:00

google images

rub my back
slowly
pretty,
pretty please

go up and down
thumb and index
finger coaxing
melodies

strum me
gently
tuck my hair
behind my ears

tune my senses,
baby
go on and tell me
those stories

about mind tripping
to Carolina
and how my
smile turns ya inside
out

take your time,
don't hurry baby
i love to watch
your mouth

speak of fire
and rain
of love and
life without

how the sunsets
in Mexico
tiptoe
and tumble down
the water spout

hold me close
go on
make my heart race
can't nobody but you
baby
put that smile on my face

do me wrong
ah, then do me
so right
let's get back to that place
we were on copperline
tonight

lovin' me sweetly
sugar
sharin' the roof you're on
rockin' you
while you're here
missin' you
when you're gone

Rene ~ Revised December 2011

dubious luxury

2011-11-27T17:31:00.001-05:00

Image: Christine Donnier-Valentin
Inspired? Visit Magpie Tales

you should stand out
from the crowd but
you gotta hold back
ju-u-st enough
pick your place and
your moment
wisely
otherwise folks'll be
skeptical
and that diamond tiara
may as well be
a tin-foil hat
it's like i'm always sayin'
to my girl Frankie,
honey, don't matter
if you're wearing
the right red dress if
it's the wrong damn time
people can smell
trying-too-hard
from a mile away

Rene ~ November 2011

vodka girls

2011-11-26T13:29:00.001-05:00

South Nashua, NH ~ Photo by Rene

we get an early start
rise around noon

or 3:15

panty twisted

and panda eyed

fresh as gas station daisies

staring skyward

in spite of the sun

teeterin'
like stiletto'd squirrels
on telephone lines
yeah, yeah, the danger
whatever
we go hard so
it knows us

but damn sure doesn't own us
we've touched bottom
so many times
we've left hand prints
in the cement
just like Hollywood, baby
print that

Rene ~ November 2011

Little Boy Blue

2011-11-20T10:09:00.001-05:00

Image: Joanne Woodward and Paul Newman

"Sexiness wears thin after a while and beauty fades, but to be married to a man who makes you laugh every day, ah, now that's a real treat." ~ Joanne Woodward
Magpie Tales

you tickle me,
spin me 'round and
spoil me rotten
slipping into my purse
flickers of denim blue laughter

courting, grinning,
all the while
winking at danger
spin me once again

then wrap me 'round
your heart like a ribbon
what a treat you are
what a gift you've given

Rene ~ November 2011
Happy Thanksgiving

battenburg lace

2011-11-19T15:30:00.000-05:00

there's no emptying

my thoughts,

my words,

my endless, brilliant

failed to-do's,

without carelessly spilling
a drop
or seven
battenburg lace
sunday afternoon
petal edged rivers run,
rise and gently stumble
over stones
and tied tongues
dripping dropping
polka dotting
splashing down
crimson

Rene ~ February/November 2011

M-80

2011-11-17T06:30:00.000-05:00

photo credit: Rene

After we'd loosed
that last thunderclap of the summer,
up on the old Erie Lackawanna tracks,
I swear we heard the Universe exhale:
"Thank God that's feckin' over with."

Me and Brady walked back to town on the rails
struttin', smoking Marlboro's and talking
like we knew about everything
and didn't give a shit about nothin'

"You scared about startin' high school?"
"Naw, I ain't scared"
"I know you lie, ya big fat 'fraidy cat"
"Shut up, Brady and I know you better fix your stank breath before school starts"
"Yeah, and I know you better pray to the titty fairy before school starts"

Usually the shit that Brady said didn't bother me,
because we were always just kinda foolin' and playin' around but,
I don't know.
That day it was weird.

And instead of punching him the arm, I just got all quiet.
And so he was all quiet.
And that's the way we walked
all the way home

everything all wound up tight
begging to be let alone
yet dying to be touched off
and rocketed,
screaming into the night

Rene ~ November 2011

insomnia

2011-11-13T10:25:00.000-05:00

photo credit: Google Images
for Magpie Tales

blood stains freckle
snow white linen
like rusted lace

i hide my face yet
i still hear the scrape
of sharp edged marbles

in your mouth
tumbling over scotch rocks
and little red last straws

nobody sees this
the more that doesn't
meet their eye

but break a leg
they've read the book
and smell the rat

the taste of bile once
on your lips, i know
this silences the barking dog

i wait, i pray you sleep
soon, soundly, sweetly
on soiled linen

as a broken spirit hides and
mends under the covers
of a library's worth of least read novels

Rene~November 2011
For d'verse ~ Poet's pub

photo credit: Rene

sanctuary

2011-11-07T20:07:00.004-05:00

Photo courtesy of Tess Kincaid for Magpie Tales

I always end up at Gate of Heaven

after the pub, but before dinner
drownin' in liquid amnesia

it's safer under the oaks
away from them and selfishly envious of
feckin' Able Moore.

Lucky bastard, dying like he did

war hero, soldier, saint

not a livin', sufferin' forgotten,
faceless sonofabitch
bummin' cigarettes

from snot nosed brats at the Seven Eleven

Remember me?

I didn't always run
and hide on the Fourth of July
pissin' myself in terror

Tell me
Don't you goddamn

remember me?

I don't feckin' care if you don't

But oh my Jesus,
don't you forget to remember me, Able

when I come into your kingdom
don't you dare, man
don't you goddamn dare

Rene ~ November 2011

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is often suffered silently.
Click here for more information.

the driver

2011-10-23T18:28:00.001-04:00

Lee Friedlander from America by Car
Inspired? Check out Magpie Tales

didja ever wonder
wonder 'bout them

the they behind
the eyes and teeth

all slick soft froggy

squirmin' underneath

didja ever wonder, now

wonder 'bout them

didja ever follow
follow 'em home

down tha alley

ever'where dey roam

combin' 'em out

wit a fine tooth comb

didja ever follow 'em

all da way home

didja ever feel

just a l'il scared

sinister shadows
shamble through sight lines

what the devil's scratching
up and down your spine

now, didja ever feel

just a l'il scared

so, now
dont'cha ever wonder

dont'cha ever wonder
dont'cha ever wonder

alla 'bout dat

Rene ~ October 2011

duck

2011-10-19T18:34:00.000-04:00

google images

little pebble
from a great big stone
makes a ripple
in a great big lake
it don't ask why now
or what's it for
it just go on, now
and do what it do
so... what's it to you?
on Park Avenue
yeah, what's it to you?
and your little dog, too
well here's sumthin' new
and it ain't for you
so move along now
a little splash'll do
what it is, now
that it's bound do
so mind the leather
wear your overshoes
and a smiley umbrella
just go on and do
what it is, now
that you're bound
to do

Rene ~ October 2011

Precious

2011-10-17T20:33:00.002-04:00

click for image source

thin skinned

golden delicious

beauty hangs

slipping through my fingers

crackling, glistening

lunging for my lips

a one tracked mind

with an eye on my tongue

gateway

of the unforgettable mouthful

Rene ~ October 2011

It's a beautiful duck. It really is. But you see..... he's.... smiling at me.

~ A Christmas Story

Inspired? check out Magpie Tales

good sleeping weather

2011-10-05T22:05:00.000-04:00

photo by Chris J. Chambers

sailing paper boats

under german opera skies

autumn aerialists dive

splashing down
into gray blue eyes

i tug at my wool cap

the wind picks up a ride

how i hate to be alone

after the beautiful goodbye

Rene ~ October 2011

reluctant october

2011-10-01T09:11:00.002-04:00

Photo by Rene

how divinely you dance
around the thread
smiling, barely breathing
spinning secrets and
angelic half truths
into silken veils
without so much as a ripple
every vowel whispered
swallowed up and
held smartly, tightly
in your hot little grasp
a carrot dangled
over a bear trap heart

Rene ~ October 2011

Google Images
Inspired? Please visit Magpie Tales and submit your own take on the above photo prompt.
Be Creative!

play me home

2011-09-21T17:20:00.000-04:00

i remember when
the fences that
lined my way home
tickled the toes
of my senses
a picket xylophone

Rene ~ September 2011