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

MONOTONE

HIGHWAYS IN THE CLOUDS In every sound of the crickets at night In the humidity that floats the air So is the sweat on my brow So is the music of my want Dreams hidden in the vast wasteland of the desert Prick like the cactus plants that inhabit it. A butterfly in a child’s net. My life hums in a monotone of nothingness. My heart cries the voyage of my own tears. Speak their words, as they splatter, and evaporate on the blazing hot concrete. Destined to abuse and lose my abilities, I live in a hell of my own making, Save the images, I create on the highways of the clouds of my solitude. Armand Hamouth