Armand Poetry

Welcome to Armand Poetry. The poems (and other words) here are composed for my own thought and amusement. Comment and discussion are welcome. -Amore, Armand-

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Dusty Rose

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dno0 nvj dkvmoav nsdoefjewp1-230

vn vk

dslkwickdkdsojsdish natihdiofnof

Matthew fdjfoiwfnvo

sdfn n voeoeisdiouygh;

nbvoe nicdo

Monday, July 25, 2005


0928, what are you doing now?
Everyone says you're rolling
People on the sidewalk spin

True blue drips from your fingers
running down the street away
suck it up 928, time for you to spin

Drink a forte for here alone
kiss it goodbye 28, she won't
be leaving room in north county

listen 8, you were the one
flailing on the octopus ride
trip to, heave ho, let it spin

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Black Glass Beads

Antique black glass beads
$1.00 ea handprinted card
in the basket untouched

A sign explains why I should
The long mourning queen
fashioned black for Albert

My suffering friend distressed
leaving the chair for his cane
into the humid not quite rain

Friday, July 15, 2005

Boat Town

The smell of the harbor
makes me want not to live there
with the nearly homeless skippers
sobering in the sun
their leathery skin
listing toward cancer
waiting for the shop to open
before returning to the safety
of the "Four Wins"
"Lady Luck" or the "Phanta Sea"

I squeeze your hand
hurry to the car
and put the harbor behind
growing smaller in my mirror

for now

Thursday, July 14, 2005


Well, I have almost become Stan.

That again

After the cup
True light shines

No reason
All is clear

The silent, moist bump slightly faster in the shade of our hats, no words.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005


I'm on the blacklist
No one will have me
My money isn't green enough

I hate yuppies

Monday, July 11, 2005

Near Water

Black to white was never as true
But it helps me push on through
To believe there was a dancing spark
And the ocean is as smooth as glass

The curving handle of my umbrella
Never felt so good under a winter's moon
At my appointed time, the sudden rain
And the ocean bubbles milky white

Now here with me, forgetting
And the ocean is moving slowly south

With you
And the ocean laughs with every sigh

Future without the "ism"

Less than human
Numbers not in order
Rushing headlong
Gasping for sweetness

The untidy relic, now abandoned, a singpost wedged in the fork. Did I turn left or right? In any event, my blinders are on. No use trying to see behind. Push on through.