Open the door for me Richard, but don’t close the door on me dick.

I have become estranged

sitting around for days

hardly speaking to anyone

needing only the quite

with my voice as spring

held down

waiting for the time

to release all it’s energy

with a ferocious burst

and for what it’s worth

I miss our conversations

how we had them

all pretenses stipend

to the last precocious moment

we are light foot steps in the hall

not wanting to be caught

or wake any of those who sleep

at this time of night

when its made for us

to think and write

spending the day

when the sun is up

about love

that has ended


putting it all in a plastic cup

I empty it and melt

the things I feel

about the things I felt

amount to the cards I’m dealt

an ace of spades

and a seven of hearts

as a cat

i have lived most of my nine lives

and as a gambler

I have already

lost my winnings

how does one grin

threw the daily grind

its a lie

I hope never to find

All great men are

or end

as private eye’s

and everything comes together

living off intuition

in time washed cloths

when the final hour emerges

case closed

~ by Aumbeche Rishi on February 13, 2007.

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