Running ̊Soŋ – Poems collection pt. 4

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June 2 by The Running Son

Running ̊Soŋ – Poems collection pt. 4
The best to you

The best to you.
May trade-winds
bring rest, bring
breathing back
to chests, full
auras combining
and refining

the best inside you.
What’s next?
I’ve never known,
but after
the deep blue seeing,
is the crown.

the sky.

X-factor: you


X is for arms.

  Men of arms

  are a factor

when men look across

archs of us, and see you

and me arched in

broken arm stances.

X is for generations.

Armed at extreme

opposite poles of green,

and red; blue to red and

white to blue, and green

left, generation-false,

an ex-duality, the color

when three’s mistaken

for two. X is blue. Red

asks Y a generation

later, left alone

and spiraling high.



You sunk my Facebook!


First line of defense: my Facebook wall.
Can’t see me from there?
You wont see me at all.
Check my albums.

I could sync you, no problem.
Think you see me?
I share updated status ratings
that only chat boxes speak of

in small emotive flailings
and down scroll’s, reeling.
I go down holes til I find your “born on”.
I scroll down blog-rolls. I dont ask

for pardon or ironic comment jargon,
or facebook stardom. I’m feeling viral.
Like I “liked” you clear into tomorrow
and shared statuses I would NEVER borrow

or take. And friend,
with full Facebook status granted:
I never poke, cat fish,
or fake.


50 ¢

Hey fifty.
Tell me about the law.
Fifty minus two–fourty-eight
laws for you to sift thru.

Haven’t read the 50 book.
But I have read a book or two
Laws are funny
and the wrong number runner

can sprint his way
into lawful corners
and the laws of physics.
solid, like bars you look thru.

So, what
with the law-dag word-smithing
about 50 laws of how
to run from process hounds

and find wisdom in lost and founds.



Cali out to a Sage show

Cali-boy wishes he was there.
blaring no oaths but displacing air.
Sweating, tearing up pamphlets,
stamping monickers and liking followers. So hey from Cali camp. I’m Shooting blanks and sometimes landing rhyme-flat, with thanks.


Poems by Jim Aldrich

.namaste.   -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •-   .namaste.



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RFB editor Jim Aldrich, Joshua Tree CA 2013

RunningSon aka Jim Aldrich, Joshua Tree CA 2013 | This site is dedicated with the deepest gratitude to Dr. Cláudio Naranjo, whose writings gave me life.

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