Running ̊Son – Poems collection pt. 10


August 10 by The Running Son

Explosion of Space Shuttle Challenger


-• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •-

Here’s the best of my unpublished poetry over last week or two. Part 10. Love you all. Enjoy. 😉

Related posts:

All Poetry by RunningSon, aka Jim Aldrich

 ̊Running ̊Son


collection pt. 10

“Treasure 2” by Wain Jordan click2visitSite

Poetry is

Poetry is our experience simmered
over low heat then reduced to thick
tones and low keys: quick rhyme,
story or fixed timing, impressionistic,
pining, or blowing all rhyme patterns
known to high hell by vocalizing
true breath; a kind of verbal sighing.

FB comment poem

“The Good People of Atenco” by Wain Jordan

“Among the pleasant folk”

I feel like and infidel, and that’s OK
so long as I smell good and frame
me in a way that perfumes away
my childhood, plus the ledges

where I’ve stood and considered
how wings flap, and also the edges
where I tested congenital moods,
and altitudes, threw my head back,

and laughed.



FB comment poem

“El Hampa – The Underworld” by Wain Jordan


breakthroughs may yet make you
set pace, racing newly met muses.
I’ve watched dead space fuse us.

First, foul air confuses, then renews
by killing off canaries that refuse
to sing, once all fresh air gets used.

FB comment poem

“GTO” by Wain Jordan click2viewPage


I send pleas up, wildly. I growl, run and howl,
speak in the tongues of men
and any foul beast or beast of burden just
to turn God’s head at least for a second.

The sound of yellow: a mellow trickling
down my leg, gathering into a puddle.
No subtle lake now! My leg was staked, but now I have a shaky staff–need Moses to part this pee on my behalf.

I laugh. More like a croak. Frog in my throat,
I rub my bobbing Adam’s apple, and the temples
I built after Adam blew his chance, waiting til evening to shove red red apples down his pants.

I’ll break out. Is that the fence? I’ll cow-tow, bend
over and spread, do a dance, give you
my best impression of a bed-headed captive
chained to a headboard, actively sending messages

to all Stockholm helplines and predatory federalist bedding capital



Written for The Poetry Question Daily Prompt:

“gold” by Wain Jordan

“refiner’s fire”

Burn your holy books, all,
thrust hands into the fire.
Let the flames singe sins away
and purify prints, entire.

Tilt your head til thoughts fall.
Cleanse your mind: retire
all distilled ideas behind the call
of your jailed soul’s own lyre.


FB comment poem

“La usqueda” by Wain Jordan click2viewPage

“who would’ve known”

I laid myself down
to get out of my head,
then went into my head
and lost all guiding sounds
but I found rhymes instead,
so I spoke them aloud,
fed them, and found they’d
always been around.

FB comment poem

♫ hope u enjoyed! Jim (;

-• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •-


21 thoughts on “Running ̊Son – Poems collection pt. 10

  1. particularly liked ‘Refiner’s Fire’ but loved the whole set, Jim, nicely written, sir. best wishes from Baldy 🙂

  2. Sahm King says:

    Reblogged this on The Arkside of Thought by Sahm King and commented:

  3. was that my haiku?

  4. incidentally i liked the music and systems of your poems – all of them though i confess i dont need to understand them ):

  5. Jim
    i need your help on a technical matter
    when i post a poem, its so frustrating that the system ignores the spacing of paras
    do you know what i can do to keep the paras as i want?

    second, how do i get to show viewer country flags on my theme/

  6. mentalnotes1 says:

    Reblogged this on mentalnotes1 and commented:
    Kinda really like this dude…

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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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