DANDELIONS

FREE FLYING Fluffs of re-roots on nothing float. children wish set it free fly again to the joy the elation of innocence. that's the rule fresh from heaven babes know even weeds deserve to be free. Armand Hamouth

THIS GUY

NICKLE FISH You shoot me a five cent smile Sitting on your million dollar ass Forgive me if I seem hostile Your bait didn’t hook this Bass I’ve played the game of two I’ll just stand in my barrel of booze If it’s all the same to you I have a vat of Vodka to infuse Armand Hamouth

IN OUR SILENCE

NOT JUST AN AFTERTHOUGHT We are not just an afterthought. If the roar of the malcontent called out their lament. Our silence would circumvent their original intent. Won't give up for what we fought. Armand Hamouth

FINGER PAINTS

A HUE OF BLUE A friend and I, Colors rule Abundant blues own my beating carmine. a lighting design of a million hues compliments our stage of wooden varnishes. It's passionate reds designed set Written, Directed, Produced and Performed by Nature Our Mother Our Creator. Under the heat of Gold barefoot on beige grains I hold her fallow fingers A Friend true sapphire. Bite Viridian Rind surrounded Amaranth juices magnolia and blush flow And finally we touch magenta and wave a tea rose goodbye. Friends true. I stay in the multi-colored safety of this very real daydream. Watch an eggplant sunset our mother by my side. In time stroll home the yellow bright of before is now retired. This ebony eve an intense black is lamp lit, at least a guided path, all else an eerie void of view. So I march to a silent beat. Reflect on a colored day. Thank a colorful heaven for my angel pure. A friend held my flesh, rose glassed my depressed state, and I make it through another cobalt day Armand Hamouth

On My Still Life Birth

Insanity In Progress I walk blindly, I think to the offbeat of the music in Mother Natures breath My head always up I fell into a puddle O negative The blood type My Lord I’m not sure but I felt a tip of sharp I got out just as the blood started to boil. It was too late I had been tainted. Next I’m sure that I fainted When I awoke I was in a porcelain tub of water Surely this was better then the former Still the water The water was drenched in in life juice. I drained it. I refilled it. Once again, it was stained dark red Four more times I repeated Finally the water was clear But when I looked at my reflection There she was, an Angel Blue. And yes they do have wings. Just then he appeared Touched the fragile dove She disintegrated into dust And then none His eyes were a platinum blue He must have been at least Eleven feet tall To be honest he He resembled a God Pure muscle His skin the whitest the whitest I had ever seen He was naked Naked and not one hair on him not any where No eyebrows or eyelashes No hair The most striking of all his features He had no genitals He had no cavities. At that moment I thought back to the burning pool of cells At that moment I thought I must have signed with the devil But, where were his horns, his pitchfork, He was perfectly still He opened his eyes wide My lord I felt him That is the only time I felt him And then he was gone And then I was liquid And then I rained through a drain through an endless waterway So here I am my Lord Squarely in front of you I know no more than than this. As for me, I am a predator of sex But I only prey My lord I only prey on the willing. My colors? Black and gold Gold and black They are are are my colors of choice. Sometimes, I replace the gold with silver Black and silver I never use any other colors Never I am predisposed To those two choices If that is a crime Than I am guilty I wish I could say more in In my defense But that is all there is to say. I mean my lord that is all I know, My Lord! Armand Hamouth

MISTER SANDMAN

Hey you, Dream Weaver! My imagination is on overdrive and my dreams especially took a nosedive. Every one painted a shade of black. Come on Mister Sandman, cut me some slack. The night is too vivid for me and the day is to dull to be or not to be. Do you see what I mean I am even copying from the cream. It is impossible from them to steal. Go ahead inspire me, don’t make me kneel. This creativity of mine rides like a unicorn. Now that hurts! From where I am sitting I can feel his horn. I really need to write. How about just a bite? Even a nibble, Please! Let me build with ease. You know that I won’t ask you twice. Oh hell yes I will, even trice. I am desperate and in need. Can you send me even a lead? Oh! Yo! Dream Stalker. Or is it walker? Or Sir, if you will. How about a pill? I have to dig, or dance a jig, that’s what I do, create. So cast, I’ll take the bait. Armand Hamouth

MY MORNING MEAL

SOUP DU JOUR Morning cauliflower clouds an orange colored cream soup with a generous scoop of lavender. A dash of Cayenne hot to the buds Perfectly round carrot cut at rise with a wink, says "how do you do?" "fine sir, and you?" A Wide eyed slice of the good life tastes this singular morn. A tip of the hat to the angels, Morning Soup Armand Hamouth

I LOVE YOU

IN YOUR HOLD ETERNAL This my love is eternity, To glide and ride images in the clouds sleep fantasies from my pores seep. Look, your, eyes, a, temple, Worship, the, sense, of, you, Hold, as, our, hides mingle hands tingle to the tip of my fingers this slice of we lingers. A peek, mountains, A creak, fountains, evergreens the Queens a height beyond a star entrance to your boudoir. You cradle my love. and able my dove, And I? Yes, cry. The end lantern with its wick though cosmic has no burn. Not prayers, But layers, Our memories, thankful for all the journeys, I adore Still an honest broker Still without a flicker yes you will, even then be an eternal part of me. This my love is eternity, Armand Hamouth

AN EYE

FOR AN EYE parts we borrow cleanse our sorrow a very large wheel a demons squeal Crucifixion Reincarnation hands rise up high reach for the sky show their color red the evil are these dead Midnight Moonlight Armand Hamouth

CLINK!

THE LIME IS MINE I thought, first I saw her. I could feel her purr!!!! I jot down her number had I cables I would have jumped her Engine! A strawberry red blond made for sin and me with a magic wand Martini in hand I sang with the band I had the spirit for it Head first felt the glass burst tried to dive into my drink for a lousy five cheers, clink!!!! Did I mention my nurse who I tried to coerce???? Armand Hamouth

JUST HERE FOR THE RIDE

HIGH ON LIFE KNOWLEDGE, THE MUSIC OF LOVE LIEs TURNs YOUR HEART FROM ABOVE DIEs So the truth, is a whore in a knock off gown Still uncouth, your hitch leaves you with a frown Eternal, springs a leak Fidelity, ruptures long live the Queen of sneak The Joker conquers. Night turns, It churns, Bars of ugly notes, and off key strokes. We dread sleep, the nightmares it evokes The clown teases, “She doesn’t love you, love you anymore.” Never eases “Your lovers gone, without an encore” The air’s chilly C’est tout. Fini! LOVE LIED, AN ALARM WAS SET YOU SIGHED ON THE DAY WE MET? And now switch. Free verse, hop on. Turn the crank. POP! Can’t escape mental jail. POP! Can’t hear my silenced heart. POP! Can’t feel dried out tears. POP! Can’t see happy memories POP! Pop goes the easel! End of Free Verse, time you leave. back to poetic form at its core. the clown teases, “she doesn’t love you, love you, anymore!” hurt never eases! That is story love It says goodbye A free flying dove It is set in dye That is love You get back on the roller coaster That is love Hang on tight like bread in the toaster Armand Hamouth

THE UNTOUCHABLES

STICKS AND STONES I can see beyond the rainbow the jagged rocks it embraces Rainbows are intangible you can't pocket them. they emboss a deeply rooted happiness on the human face a positive footprint, rainbows are BEAUTIFUL! The pragmatic mind has no time for the inanimate. They understand rocks, They understand weapons, The understand 'concrete' but what of PEACE! Weapons!, can be pocketed, they can be held but they are... UGLY!!!! Armand Hamouth

AND TWO MAKES ONE

RIDDLE ME THIS Before what I'm thinking I lived a half-life Here's a clue it was a gift from my wife No it’s not a multi purpose Swiss knife Yes definitely the music, but not a fife It is the reason I smile through my strife The love in me for the answer is rife Give up? You both! My daughters. My life. Armand Hamouth

A TOUCH OF YOU

SIMPLY HER! Her, intensely, passionately, singularly, emphatically, her. Her simply my world. Her juices echo, a unique melody cooling, burning hot, notions visions, wants, needs. Her trickles out, my lick my bite, my pucker, my clef, smears flesh. Her lingers. Her a taste, Her? a touch of you. Armand Hamouth

ON HIS GIFT

BILL SIENKIEWICZ Water runs from My one eye His colors stunning Send me Oils covers canvas Leave barely a Piece untouched Just white It is waves tidal Mangled trees That stand A horrid orchid Nature crippled The ugly Beautiful In his hands Finally I break in tears I sprout wings and soar For just a moment Angels hold me Gladly share The sky For a moment in time I am a King Crown and all Armand Hamouth

A LOVELY CHILL

CAROL'S EYES My Love, would you mind if I took the time, to share a lovely chill that tickles my smile? It's your eyes! I'm afraid that I lose myself in them. In their promise. In their million shades of a million blues. I have to confess they inspire in me a dark red desire, a desire that flares with a devilish pucker in a place I won't mention now, ( later, alone, I'll tell you in a whisper but I deviate) When your eyes touch mine, my thoughts hitchhike on highway mischief like a teenager barefoot on scorching hot slate. Sometimes, my sweet I imagine diving head first into our locked stare. There I bathe in the milk of your DREAM EYES And in the fix of my wake I reach the surface drenched in the solitude of your loving glare. I feel compelled to tell you that my body, my whole body, trembles in my admiration of them. What I am trying to say, my love, is... OH MY GOD, YOUR EYES! Armand Hamouth

SPEECH

TWISTED WORDS! COMMUNICATION. ugly dreams body soaked, yellow-headed weeds. blacker than night spin right then left. a large target, crimes. surrounded, circle the wagons. important words soap bubbles, pop! intent action merge! people taken back. misunderstood?, heat of the moment?, ridiculous importance, words!, written, spoken, ineffectual!, COMMUNICATION. Armand Hamouth

A VERY ROUGH DRAFT

IN THE PAINFOREST Apathy is the shame of our generation. It is the time to act, before the curtain closes. Unchain the Mountains whisper in their ears to cut and run. Spring the clouds the white the gray the black tell them to scamper and fast. Pardon the forests suggest they uproot and skedaddle, leave. Discharge the fields, the hills the valleys pay their cab fare and send them on their way. Absolve the waters, open the faucets, everywhere drain it, all of it, drain it dry. Wind-up the fliers, the crawlers, the prancers, the hoppers, the jumpers, the leapers, the dancers, the runners the swimmers, give 'em a push watch 'em escape, scoot, vamoose. Tell the piper to bring the children play his magic flute, its time to blow this Popsicle stand time to mission to somewhere else. Deflate it all don't bother packing dash, trot, speed walk exit stage left or right. Abandon what you can't grab. Throw a lit match on the way out. Let it all implode in its own gasses This book Has reached its last chapter, its last page, its final word . When the stench of rotting flesh subsides give me a holler. then, we will return. Armand Hamouth

IN THE VERNACULAR

KNOCK KNOCK We bleed in a multi - spectrum of paint swatches We breathe the exhaust of weeping willows Plugged into a wall of green foliage our fuel is a rare chloroform. Organs, drenched in the acid bite of a deadly virus. Even prayers flow like a silence and fall before reaching ears. Test tubes are the messengers of our work. Who will answer your door. Armand Hamouth

YESTERDAY'S PUDDLE

Painted Puddles from yesterday’s rainstorms and logs in the fireplace that warms. Carefully painted hearts, and oven baked tarts. Cut-out doilies, Made up stories. Fresh whipped milk chocolate, tickles a child’s palate, and a well thrown pigskin easily caught on a backspin. Your hopes and dreams surely will last forever If you hold them dear and don't let go. Never. Armand Hamouth