The sun lingers today
Not rushing off  not in a hurry to fall behind the hills
It pauses
as if the sky is holding its breath
And we feel it too
Something still Something ancient
The light stretches longer than it should
casting soft gold on things we almost forgot to notice
the curve of a leaf
the quiet rhythm of our own pulse
a bird crossing the silence like a thought we hadnt had yet
People gather or dont
Some light fires, some sit alone.
But all of us
somewhere in the quiet
feel the turning
Not a celebration, exactly
More like a recognition
That the world moves in circles
and sometimes
were lucky enough to feel the moment it shifts!

Therapy never works
Freeversing is cathartic
And better than screaming into the abyss
If someone can relate and feel less alone to what I express/write
Then I too feel less alone
More understood
Instead of misunderstood
For a change
If that makes sense

I mapped the stars,
named each light,
built a world
from a wish too bright.

But the sky turned grey,
and time moved on,
my perfect paths
already gone.

The silent winds
whispering a breeze
of memories, yet unborn  
like a breath of air
inward against my face
with the scent of beings
on a journey across the dunes

“where time is the fly and age the fisher of men”

<>

”until I fell forward
into fall where time is
the fly and age the fisher
of men, then when winter
begins all will be forgotten,
where time is the fly and
age the fisher of men”

excerpt from “The Fall” by Rick Richardson

<>

that words from a different ionic state, jump as embodied ions from screen to the throat, evicting a guttural current of exclamation, you believe even with the half-heartedly palpitations from  remainder of my damaged pumping heart, that these words were always intended, just for me…

boy and old man coexist, the pottage of memories stirred,
and the time is fly, and I drown in the miracle of greenest grass of
Yankee Stadium at age eight,
oasis, heaven, a child reborn in a sea of Bronx concrete,
and the swallowing up of my boyhood is forever marked henceforth, the hook has caught me, and I am of the age
once and forever


not a fisherman, but a fisher of men’s souls,
mine own is my best bait,
hooked line and sinker, and
wisdom and words
elude and delude always, 
 like summer is perpetual and aging a construct,
time does not fly, but slowly laps and waves
eroding our myths and ourselves upon a continuum with
no ends

~postscript~

<>
yet I believe,
in miracles of
fish and loaves,
and that our individual continuums
will exist beyond the artifice of constraints
of
mortal time and that poems are
the forever chemicals within
our
bloodstreams,
even when our blood no longer spills

yet I believe!

a gift for Aladdin Aures H
from his 3rd follower...

<>><<>
the inescapable need,
unformed firmament
inquiring; am I capable?

the impulse palpable,
the urge to urgent,
to gorge and disgorge?

instead of morning prayers,
precomposed and ordered,
morning poem plucked from

morning fog, gusted breezes,
early-on, newborn sun rays,
progeny of disheveled skies

words fused, in irregular sizes,
senses censured by drowsy eyes,
but the chest beating arrhythmia

means bursts of free verses
superimposed on reluctant eyelids,
jigsaw puzzlement be re-conformed

and the first poem of the day,
emerges from the intersection
of mind, pale dreams, and the

first is special till the neu morrow,
when fresh bursts explode inward
to windward, and the first is just

yesterday's mesh of hash,
once formidable, now last,
pinned, yellowing, purely a
*descendant of the recent,
but always, ancient past^

Roses
My favourite flower since I was a child
Then I met you..
Now I can't stand to even look at them
Isn't that wild
Funny how that happens..
Some songs I don't dare listen to
I don't dare say your name
You're like ******* Voldemort
It fills my heart full of heartache and shame
Why do I always come back to you and play this ******* game?!
It's useless, it's rigged
I always lose
Left feeling broken, battered and bruised
Though you never laid a hand on me
Silly to think you saw me as more than flesh
How can you be so heartless ?
Who hurt you ?
I guess someone will probably ask the same question about me one day
I'll just shrug
I won't dare utter your name
Your name fills me with so much pain
Hurt people hurt people
Slipknot was right
People = ****

An adorable star, you are.
Oh… in my heart, light.
They are the same
as the morning
in my evening night.

A secret to shine
lives in me — elegant,
charming as I am a wonder.
I yell: “I am inevitable!”

You — the one I see in me…
and I in you. For all the way,
always in forever to be:
You and me.

To feel is to be free, the fame,
the game belongs to the day
— and more is on the way.

Eyes in the face, gratitude,
all away. Shall I stay,
now that you are near?

The rear is my fear,
And nothing else…
is you, dear.

A tree becomes paper,
notes in a block… Tick tock.
Hear the clock.

Further away, she goes too.
Yours — the same…

Or is it not?

Roses are red
Netanyahu is a swine
I pray to the Lord for
A free Palestine

With each new step comes a fresh white pang.
A flash in the pan is a flash nonetheless.
Like a pulsar, it's quickly gone but lurking in the dark only to return in a decade.
Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, no, thirty lashes with the cat-o-nine, and in a decade, ten more.
Kept uneven, unpredictable--at odd numbers. All just to keep one on one's toes and back on one's knees.

A love poem with
Only four words or
Less, a few words, in
Hope I might impress:
“Here, there, and everywhere.”
I promise to find
You in every life-time,
Nevertheless.

Feel like
I woke up
To a brand new car
Only to find out
I'm going to be
Chained to it
And dragged along