Running ̊Son – Poems collection pt. 9


July 25 by The Running Son


-• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •-

Here’s the best of my unpublished poetry over last week or two. Part 9. Love you all. Enjoy. 😉

Related posts:

All Poetry by RunningSon, aka Jim Aldrich

 ̊Running ̊Son


collection pt. 9

“of American rages”

Florida State murder cases
jut out like South-Eastern blades,
and several half-united states place
blame in places where masks
fall; and we get a chance, all,
to taste some truly tasteless vitriol.

FB comment poem

I am we are”

I am light. Stardust
recombined with divine sight.
One day energies aligned,
and site-specific singularities

and gravity events sent two
primed souls a-flight, to
form a V, two wings–
my new ability to soar the skies,

and write.



Adapted from the poem written for: The Daily Prompt: July 8 at The Poetry Question blog.

“Moon: 7.22=11

I am primed.
full, spread wide: moons hide
kissing light

FB poem

“a writer’s paradise”

God himself couldn’t
organize this mess.
I get bored, I confess.

Nor can I sort out the best
way for these four-eyes
to itemize (with 20/20

insight) scattered thoughts
on how clean desks
reflect organized minds.



From : The Daily Prompt: July 18 at The Poetry Questionblog.

“super dmo”

My cats hairify
my laundry before
I can hang it fresh up.
Supper is a hunk of cheddar.
My ashtray
is so full it would make
an AA meeting blush,
I don’t shower enough—
there is this oil on my skin
like a sheen, and my teeth
are mossy. All day long
i sit, hunched over,
drinking coffee
and licking my lips
and blogging. I think
about an ambitious
version of me, and I
smile big. I lean back.
And then, in a few minutes,
I forget, and everything
fades into pleasant, foggy bliss.

(haha… ok, I’m not this bad but dont tempt me!)

Adapted from a comment response forWhat Bugs you Wednesdays at The Poetry Question.

“eyes are the window”

I kiss
straight on the mouth

the death
of a thousand resentments.
And I rely on those. Need them,
minus a run-through, a dress

rehearsal to expose the me
you see imposing on
you, and my poetry on reality
without rehearsal or needed editing.



Adapted from:̡̢ϛtagef̃right̡̢/


Remember to breath buddy
This will only hurt if you resist or
look at me funny. I’m a specialist
the Dr is in. Only got a nickle
or no money? Lucy makes you pay
in blood. My bedside manner
is a flood wave crashing in to
blood banks and I’m O positive
when I’m done God’s own soul
will give thanks. No more Zoloft!
A Banner year off, and I’m loving it!
My blood thick with Prozac, Ritalin,
Ativan and tiger’s piss. So maybe I
act like Hannibal
with a stomach growl as I relish
each . and . every . vowel
from your quivering jowls as
you insist you never ever touch
little kids…but breathe and relax
asshole.. you wont be touching
much at all after tomorrow.

Hyperbole all for a good cause guys

From : The Daily Prompt: July 25 at The Poetry Question blog.


Just maybe I’m not being clear like the air.
Or maybe I’m putting on mystical airs.
Or perhaps there is a point, and I’m being fair
to make painfully clear there’s a there

prev. unpublished



♫ hope u enjoyed! Jim  –

-• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •-


4 thoughts on “Running ̊Son – Poems collection pt. 9

  1. Ar Vhee says:

    Sdmo rocks… \m/

  2. I always enjoyed these anthology posts, Jim. I’m sure I don’t miss anything.

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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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