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Karijinbba Dec 2023
His eyes blue green
His body Roddy
His hands distinctive
Arms strongest than pillars of marble
His hair reddish blonde
His manners unforgettable
His smile stunning
His private vessel redish too
His feet huge

His Adam leaf just right
His ancestry Irish
His heart pure gold
His soul my own
His twin soul twin flame
my very own
His voice strong masculine deep.
His passion wet a stallion perfectly shaped all rapture is  
My voice his soprano pride
My thighs his madness
His anger his silence I fall in love.
His true loving heart my own.
His physic athletic muscular HE- MAN type body
His hight 5'8
His wealth my own
His jewels my children
His diamonds my tears my tears his diamonds his Rubies his poems.

His sonnet 75 his treasures buried for me to know his love is true

His heartbreak my own
His goals my own
His first love is me
His love making supernovae

My smile his 20 million hurried loot worth fame and great fortune.
My Knight my all
My sheikh my king of hearts

My body his pleasure his desire
My hair dark ashy moon glow over cedar- brown
My eyes vitreous reflecting colors of nature, starry looking eyes

My voice his soprano pride
My thighs his madness
My DNA his own
My height 5'4
My feet 8-1/2-9
My heart of gold his own.
My talent his own
My joy and happiness
my own
My song his delight his lyric rights

My first love him patpat
My love.
Our marriage license sleeps.

Our book; We are the authors
of our own lives and destiny..

What Dreams may come
Gone with the wind
Message in a bottle.
E. T. Phone home.
Scarlett letter A
Countless written memories.
Favorite places stargazing under the stars.
Boat rides waves rocking our love away.
Lover is PatRk imaginary ancient
True love.My E T.

Knight yes one King of hearts RD-present here soon.
By: Karijinbba, all rights.
A M Ryder Oct 2023
I had nothing
But time
I could see
The life of  
It in all its
Terrible light
Had I lived?
Was I the
Object in
Another's story?
Was that all
I ever was?
Could I
Be more?

Nothing but
Time and still
No answer
I had glimpsed
Into the mind
Of eternity
Perhaps the
Mind of god
And found
Nothing but
Path Humble Sep 2023
“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


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

yet I believe!
a tribute to one of the best poets around
My true love you threw your magnetic pebbles your magical out worldly rocks
on my lap
you called my small momma your portal to heaven star seed.
I called your small Daddy
the bridge to heaven
and we whispered to each other
the titles; Mama and Papa.
I guess we lived many lifetimes as man and wife as twin souls interchangeable twin flames before.
In almost every book ever written where love is lost or found and in every lifetime we found each other I'm never alone, we remain glued
just one thought away.
I notice your waves right here on HP they fall on my writ pond and mine fall on yours my beloved.
You might just as well call me Delene where both of us meetings in some mystic time travel space ship.
In love with your poetic waves revealing secrets;
true love always takes chances on Earth and up in some exotic E.T. mother ship.
Mr and Mrs Andrews
with Karijinbba.
Karijinbba Jul 2021
Like ugly ducklings to lovely
Swans transformed we are.
I remember thine breath of life blowing in labellum.
Stunt by your hunger for me
In shivers silence stuck
the dagger in heart
mine and thine, beloved.

In vain I sought you I
Roamed the open seas with cowards ****** greedy racist human predators
In sheep's clothings.
Two forces of good and evil hubbered above my cradle

To get here powers of evil
took everything and I lost everyone dear to me
even my honor just to reach thine forces of good
I'd surrender to you if worth anything to you take it all
for treasures in my hands

without fortress if your love
slides like water in hands
I find thee everywhere in famous art even in
crossroad lights
I found thee in sonnet 75
with William Shakespeare.

Thine grace showered me with wisdom and thine thirsting for me became my own longing for thee
decades now my beloved

I search no more for thine love tattooed all over my vessel peacefully rests
No one but us two can see it.

You reign butterfly in heart
few lovers have eyed me
yet quickly eluded me
  they too, like your butterfly,
Go in search of their own.

Yes only yours returned
Adorned with diamonds and rubbies calling me fiancee.

I painted two on my chest
To never be apart
I love thee the most
forever and ever.
By Karijinbba
All Rights Reserved
Sonnet, 75-95- present
True story an ET from another world designed two identical  rubbie and diamond butterflies
Just for me as an engay gement gift .Rdd/BbA
I turned 36 today but I feel like I’m 86
and all I want for my birthday is to die.

pain is everywhere/ hell is everywhere
and happiness doesn’t exist.

no amount of love or change
in my life can cure me from the
aching loneliness that lies within

no amount of records could
complete my collection

no amount of words could
finish my poems

I don’t want to **** myself
I’m not a suicide case
you won’t find me at the bridge tonight
and this isn’t a suicide note or
a cry for help or attention seeking

I’m just really ready to go,
ready for decomposition
ready to escape from myself
ready to be put out of my misery
and to be released from total
anguish that life has shown me

there’s nothing more this blue grey
world could offer me
when the sun shines
I want the rain to fall
my feelings are numb
my brain is dumb
my emotions have solidified
depression makes you feel like
a useless blob on the floor and
I know now that happiness
is a mound of decaying flesh
with an empty slit as pretty
as a melancholic smile.

do you think my poetry brings laughter?

am I an ancient jester of poetic injustice?

I sure hope so.

I wouldn’t want anyone to feel
like the way I’m feeling now.
here we are
closer and closer
towards the deadlines
of our wasted lives
and we have nothing
to show for it except
soul extortion
and we pray that
we may evermore
dwell in expostulated

I’m surprised
I’m alive
the luck of my past
that hadn’t killed me.

the cause that effected me
to trade in my crazy antics
(I’ve mistaken for bravery
or invincibility)
for mental acquisitiveness
(I mistakenly thought was
for personal gain)

and now
there’s nothing more
to complain about
there’s nothing more
to look back on
there’s nothing more
to hold onto
and the most sensible
thing for me to do
is end it alone
with the walls taunting
the final destinations
like a fly to the cat
and somewhere outside
the mares eat oats,
the goldfinch pecks the
dandelion heads and the
motorcyclist revs up the
engine with nowhere to go
and dreams of riding through
the Badlands at night,

you’re at the 8 hour job
they give no overtime,
no Christmas bonus,
no raise, no promotion
and yet you continue
to bend over backwards
for them only to receive
nothing but grief, guff
and paycheck so weak
you can’t even afford a
studio apartment for
yourself in return

without praise,
without thanks
or that you did
a good job

and after listening to the
the same repetitive music
and mind-numbing stories
from your co-workers
for hours and hours
days and days
weeks and weeks
months and months
years and years
decades and decades
eventually someone
is going to snap

and this is how shooters
are born,
this is how bomb threats
are made,
this is what encourages people
to commit random acts
of violence

these people are not monstrous
these people are broken
and they have been
driven into doing
monstrous things

but upper management’s
only concern is filling the
owner’s pockets with money,
not your mental stress—
they want you to deal
with that on your own
time, not theirs,
although they may be
the cause

and in the end when the blur
of mass murdering happens
from the rampage of the
disgruntled employee
they act shocked
and terrified with
cries of outrage
that such inhumane
things can be
right now.

we’re all responsible
for our own actions
but it takes a sadistic
type of someone to
propel another person
into going berserk,
to start seeing red in
transcending limitations

some reasonable men
are pushed into doing
unreasonable things

as the shadows have stopped
in the circle of dead children.
8 registers open
only 1 cashier
6 other employees
milling around
the store
assisting the 3
remaining customers
while 16 other people
wait in line to check out

their system works
like most systems
I’ve seen before…
backwards and drivel.

I guess common sense
isn’t so common anymore.
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