A Kiss Is Not A Contract

"Does this mean I can go?" Arieus raised an eyebrow. "Or is this another one of those 'we'll need you in a day' things?"

"Busy, huh?"

"You could say that," Arieus replied.

Raiis nodded, "Very well. I see we have kept you long enough –"



"What kind of commitment is that?" Farin said, pausing the live image. Gloria nearly groaned. She had thought when Farin had asked her for lunch that the hardest decision she would have to make was going to be spinach or mixed greens.

Apparently "lunch" meant "business" in Farin-speak....as did everything else.

"Not equip to be a Gate. Gloria, I know he is your kind, but even you can see he cannot be trusted, yes?"

"Farin," Gloria rubbed her eyes and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Honey," Farin winced. "Arieus is not going to cause trouble. He's very talented, and Raiis himself helped teach him. Besides, Agron Verra is a great historian. Arieus comes from a good background. What are you so afraid of?

"He only stayed two weeks! When training was for me, I was here six months."

"Time is of the essence, Farin. We're low on power, and Arieus will be back to finish soo–

"He signed no contracts, Gloria!" Farin fumed.

"And he'll stay for much –" Gloria paused. "What?!"

"Yes! You see it now! Arieus is not bound to us, and Raiis lets him go!"

"Are you sure? Raiis would never....it could mean...."

"Yes, I am certain. The whole proceeding is here, on the tape."


"– But I truly hope that you will return. You must realize the risk I am taking here."

Arieus tucked his scarf more securely and raised a fur-rimmed hood. "Do the others know?"

Raiis opened his mouth to speak, but Arieus beat him to it, "You should tell them soon."

"Soon, they will know."

END OF VIDEO.

~Hammeh

Winds Of Change

My poetry has changed.
The way I used to write –
with imagery and symbolism –
has disappeared.
But when I flip through
my notebook and hang each
piece out to dry, my words
have morphed,
and this medium is now ill-fitting.
"The change will come soon."
My fortune cookie was right.

The time for quarters and new
fabric softener has ended.

Pull out the washboard, oh baby
I am back.

~Hammeh

The Bass Keeps Running And Running

The tickle of the cool breeze,
which spins about the room;
the curl of monotone hair and
the feel of it layered heavily
at the back of my neck;
and the sound of her music
crashing between
my ears, with words
I barely catch against
the thrumming rhythm of
the bass guitar.

~Hammeh

A Dance That Ends In A Kiss

I'm moving on.
I think
Or perhaps,
I simply don't know what is real.

And the thought of your hand,
pressed against mine,
is merely artistic whim.

~Hammeh

The World Was Shaped

"I have an eye for color," she says.
So do I.
Secretly, when you draw – and you think yourself amazing
and you tally up your fans – I judge you.

I've never been to art school.
But I know critique is essential to growth.

And I also know that there are artists
– at whose work you would sneer –
who are far better than you
– in your little soap box –
will ever be.

~Hammeh

Sitting In A Row

When I laugh,
I don't expect you
to get the joke.

~Hammeh

Snow Flurries Pass Me By

I play capture the flag
all the time.
At night.
We all do.
A dream floats by,
and,
starry-eyed,
we run.

~Hammeh

Ah, Poetry

There is no need to show undying devotion.
If I loved you, I did not know.
And now you'll wonder why
I ever said it at all.

~Hammeh

Bear Has Been Missing

Muse, had been missing.
Last seen skipping stones in France.
Reward, please call. Thx.

~Hammeh

A Long, Long Way To Bah Sing Se

The way I can pick up the phone –
my hand like a leaf of a tree in red, red October –
and my mouth pursed tight in worry, in fear,
and the second you say "hi," it doesn't matter,
five minutes or a year.

~Hammeh

Down The Lane, Not Across The Street

For me, a fingernail is a knife,
the razor on my skin.
Upper arm is my punishing ground.
And the pain, only a small way I show the suffering.

~Hammeh

Roses and Chipmonks

Regarding AF7

I sat there,
and I read your story.
Smiling at the way
you had fallen so far,
and secretly crying
because I know what it's like.
One. Two. Three. Four.
As we both act out our compulsions.

~Hammeh

Gawain, The Blade

"Gawain?"

The knight turned around, touching the butt of his gun, Galatine, to be sure it was within emergency reach. Gawain shook a few curls out of his eyes as he looked around for the voice.

"Dude, are you okay?" The first voice spoke again; the pubescent crack hard to miss.

"Oh no, this is exactly what happened to Lancelot." This second voice was older but higher pitched.

"What the fuck?" Gawain hissed as they practically dragged him out of the bar. Perceval let go of his shoulder as Gawain turned to face the two men. "Who are you guys?"

Gareth frowned, "You don't remember us?"

"Clearly not," Gawain said.

"Well, this sucks." Perceval made a face.

"Look, Gawain, I know you don't like me and all – and I don't really care for ––"

"What are you talking about? I have no fucking idea who you are!" Gawain's hand tensed on the butt of his gun.

"Well, shit." Perceval mumbled before lunging toward Gawain and catching him by surprise. Gawain stumbled and the young attacked snagged the gun from Gawain's hip holster. He twirled it momentarily. "Most of us use the shoulder holsters, you know. Much more secure."

Suddenly his calm, cool voice changed,, and he was practically jumping up and down beside Gareth. "Didjya see? Didjya see? I bested Gawain! Wah-hoo!"

"Doesn't count. Now, shut up."

Perceval froze, "What?! Why not?"

"He's not in his right state of mind."

Gawain slowly raised his hands, "When crazy is holding a gun, I listen."

Gareth almost smiled. "Good plan, brother."

~Hammeh

All For One, One For All

The foot board at the bottom of your bed has this way of looking like a jail cell – all bars.

I realize that I have gone a bit crazy,
When I find myself – in the middle of the night –
Sharpie in hand, painting the jail breakers' faces
on your protruding toes.

~Hammeh

As The Days Go By

"He went through some interesting phases when he was younger."

Arieus jumped and leaned away from the wall of pictures. Gladys was behind him cupping a mug of warm, milky tea. She smiled up at Arieus, who was fidgeting nervously.

"you know," she said as she searched for a particular picture. "Antanas was always a bit of a twerp when he was really little – I could never get him to behave, and he always came home with a teacher's note about him goofing off." She pointed to a photograph of a small boy, hands behind his back, standing on top of a broken sand castle.

"About 15 seconds after I took this, Antanas was helping Charlie rebuild his sandcastle." She chuckled to herself and Arieus smiled.

"How old was he?"

Please, Gladys answered, "He's nine there and fourteen in the next one." She pointed Antanas out among a group of about 20 teens, and Arieus tried not to laugh.

"Can't say I have ever seen that hairstyle on a man before." Arieus told her.

"Oh, spare me the hair, he had me making all his clothes –– what a nightmare! You should have seen the cuts of fabric he would bring to me. I'll have you know ––"

"Gladys! What are you telling him?!" Antanas interrupted from the top of the stairs.

"I believe things have improved quite a bit. Wouldn't you be inclined to say so, Mrs. Gnokkum?"

"Yes, indeed, Mr. Verra." she said teasingly.

Antanas came down the stairs in a two step pattern, landing gracefully – but loudly – in frni of Gladys, who had turned to face her son. Arieus' eyes looked over him now seeing the full spectrum of Antanas' aging.

The half-elf grinned and then froze. He pushed aside Arieus and saw the wall of photos.

"Gladys! You didn't! We talked about this!"

"You better take him now," Gladys said, gently tucking Antanas under Arius' arm and nudging them to the door. "Have fun boy!"

"Thank you, Gladys." Arieus said, heading out the door with a still flustered Antanas.

~Hammeh

Pulling Up Daisies

Rainbow

The puddle on Chestnut Street
has gotten bigger,
and I swear,
every time I look at it,
it's a different color.
Yesterday it was orange – like Gatorade and Cheez-its –
this morning it was dark purple - your eyeshadow,
without the sparkles.
But I checked it an hour ago and it was gone.
Only an oil stain remained.

~Hammeh

A Tiger-Wood Finish

Guilliver's Travels

My veins are rivers, on my wrist, on my breast.
My eyes are the sun super-imposed on the moon
And my legs are the currents, my arms the sky,
My heart shallow green – tender and delicate.
As for my hair – plain and brown and beautiful –
it connects me to this world like roots,
and when I am spread out, half-conscious
with the lapping of the waves and the
thick, damp warmth of the sand
like Gulliver, I realize just how fragile

– the crackle of a scallop shells as it
disintegrates and sinks away –

we are.


~Hammeh

Truth Gleams Like A Torch In The Fog

Fog Horn

The fog horn is low and chasing.
The pattern of skin – like scales – is suddenly evident.
My thumb holds the page I write on.
If I am patient and careful, the words appear.
Mysteriously, from the page.
My mind calls out to them, slow and quiet.
There's a throbbing in the paper,
like a heartbeat on the waves.
And I can hear the fog horn,
late at night, when my mind's a jumble
and my heart is cautious and afraid of
drowning.

~Hammeh

On The Street Where You Live

A Love Poem From The Grocery Store

Bananas and licorice,
we met on the freeway,
you ran out of gas,
cranberries and cheddar cheese,
the 7-11 fifteen miles down the highway
was the last place we talked,
and I thought only of Karma,
raspberries and mushroom cream soup.
Later, when I was clearing the keys
from my pockets, I was shocked to
see your card.
Lemonade and sweet beans,
"SuperFresh, 350 South Street."
And here we stand,
among the lobster and steak dinners,
the champagne and the big, white
carrot cake, and –
your smile with mine.

~Hammeh

Perfum'ed and Pleasant

A Chained Bed

It's that sprite of perfume
–completely irresistible,
not to mention the lust we radiate;

the bed bounces her back, cradling
her, and he crawls on top, using
her hair as his camouflage – hiding
his hunting stripes.

Laughter like a short chiming rain.
Chains curl and bind like Lovers'
hands wrapping indecently tightly
and bringing the two far too close.

Oh Damn, not again.

And the lock clicks and
War and Lust are bound by Flame.

~Hammeh

Peanut Butter and Butter Crunch

Faith

The air breathes in, like clam shells
and mussels.
And out of breath is a good joke that transcends ages.

My curled up cat – comical and crazy
versus their labradoodle, huge and gentle.

There's something in the quilts,
and the oatmeal-lumped pillows,
a scent of the wood paneling and wet sand,
of warm blueberry pie and cold FarFar's vanilla.

And no matter how many times I lose faith,
I always find it again – in the blanket of a wave,
the shell of a hermit crab, or the hug of a mother.

~Hammeh

Sleep Sweet

A Short Scene With Arieus, as Told by Farin, Gloria, and Raiis (Notes on pronunciation and the Gates themselves are at the end.)

"You cannot be serious." Farin said in that flat tone of hers, but the temple vein bulging against her blue skin gave her away.
"I'm afraid that I am quite serious, my lady." Raiis replied. "We simply cannot go on without more Gates; we'll be quickly out-manned and removed."
"But he is so," she paused, struggling to find an English equivalent from her native tongue.
"I second the motion."
Raiis looked at Gloria gratefully. She had just returned from her mission 20 minutes before the meeting. Her bronze battle armor was polished and glistening, although her golden curls were matted with blood and dirt.
"He's a Kag'nush!" Farin said, looking aghast. "He cannot be a Gate."
Raiis frowned, "Please, a civil tongue. He is not Dark. He was born and raised by Agron and Mire'am, and he was born in Lagate City in the South."
"But they will see him in different lighting," Farin said.
"Then that will be his problem to deal with, won't it?" Raiis answered her. Gloria furrowed her brows and smiled lightly.
"Why don't we hear from him?" She looked through the one-way window partition.
On the other side, Arieus was seated in the provided chair. But instead of sitting by the table in the center of the room, he had dragged it to the wall across from the mirrored-window. He sat with his feet firmly planted on the floor and his arms crossed, staring at the mirror.
Actually, as the three Gates examined him, they weren't sure if he was staring or not due to the sunglasses he was wearing.
"Have you said anything to him?"
"No, not yet Farin." Raiis said.
"May I speak to him?" She asked, and Gloria snorted.
"You can try," Gloria said.

Pronunciation:

Arieus – Air-E-us
Raiis – RAY-us
Farin – Fair-in
Agron – Ag (like Agony) - ron
Mire'am – Mir (as in Mirror) - ay - em
Lagate – La-gay-te (a sharp/short "te" at the end)
Kag'nush – Kaa-guh-newsh

The word "Kag'nush" is from Farin's original language and is a negative word for a Dark Elf, which Arieus is not, and which is why Raiis proceeds to give Farin Arieus' background. The three characters here (Gloria, Raiis, and Farin) are all Gates from the Eight Gates system of government which I have developed for my work. Gloria is the Southern Gate, Raiis is the Northern Gate, and Farin is the Eastern Gate. Quite a few of the Gates have just died and need to be replaced. Arieus, my main character, will end up becoming one of the Gates. As for species? Raiis is human, and quite old. Gloria is an Elf, and she is about mid-adulthood. Farin is a Quenic, and she is rather young, between teen and adult. She has light blue skin and bleeds gold; it's very strange. :] Woah, I kind of rambled. But, I love my stories, so if there are any questions, throw them my way~!

~Hammeh

Venetian Plaster Fools You

Decades to Build, Moments to Destroy, A Single Love to Restore

Hairline fractures,
and slips of the tongue,
at the time, I was
sure my reputation
was lost for good.

But halfway through
the black olive casserole
and the kale and spinach soup,
you reminded me
that there is much more
gray than the clear cuts
of black and white.

I always thought it
was impossible, but
then again, I watched
you do it–balancing
a spoon on your nose–
and restore my reputation.

~Hammeh

A Song About My Home

Shoreside

Sand and grass and mud.
Flesh and blood and ocean waves.
A town by the sea.

~Hammeh

A Joke Between Friends

Kaylee Peters and the Nervous Lady

Kaylee frowned at the crumpled bedspread. It didn't really faze her anymore, the whole unemployed, living on the edge thing.
She shrugged and finished zipping up her jeans before moving two feet to the left, where her sink was.
She plucked a somewhat clean mug from the sink and filled it with water.
Taking a sip, Kaylee took a seat at her table. She read through the paper form last week. She really needed to get out of her apartment.
Her door bell rang.
"Mrs. Kaylee Peters?" came a high-pitched woman's voice; it sounded rushed and nervous.
Kaylee stood up, paper in hand, and opened the door. The well-dressed woman on the other side looked very relieved.
"Oh, thank God," she said before grabbing Kaylee's arm. "Come on, they're all waiting for you at the shoot! I was so hoping you'd be better today. I mean," she glanced at Kaylee nervously, but the woman soon realized that the words had gone completely over Kaylee's head. Which was a good thing.
Kaylee blinked sharply in the sunlight. She glanced back at her door, noticing that she had been living in what appeared to be a silver trailer, not an apartment. Befuddled as the woman shut the door and took the newspaper from her, Kaylee tried to listen to the woman's nervous rambling–something, anything that she could make sense of.
"Jackson says the lighting is just perfect for filming right now. Luckily, I booked it all for today, because nobody's been able to get you to open the door for over a week! I thought that they were going to terminate your contract, Kaylee! You really can't do this lock yourself thing–it's fine for teenage visionaries, but a huge no-no for big, busy Hollywood stars, okay?"
She looked to Kaylee for some sort of promise; instead, Kaylee stopped walking and asked, "Who are you?"
The woman stopped, and her brow furrowed with disappointment–as though she had expected Kaylee to snap out of it and behave better, whatever "it" was. "Oh, honey, this again?"

Who are these characters? I don't know. I feel bad for Andrea, the Nervous Lady, who can't seem to grasp that her star is seriously messed up in the head....

~Hammeh

Savoring The Cranberries

Salt and Sea

My mother always wears dark bathing suits,
black and navy blue.
I always thought that it was about confidence.
But the truth is, when she slips on her sunglasses
and dives under with a dolphin kick and her hair
is all slicked back with salt water,

she's beautiful.

And she embodies the freedom and confidence
of the sea.

~Hammeh

Change In The Wind

Buckled Down

Her fate was written,
On the shoelace of her boots,
But changes like those,

Are easy to make.
As long as you're prepared for
the consequences.

~Hammeh

Special Deliveries Not Included

Aaaaaaand now, for the Great Catch-Up!!!! Hooray! xD

Silly Fear

When I was little,
pink bathing suit and too big baseball cap,
I was terrified of the ocean floor–
fish and hermit crabs I could handle.

My greatest fear was being too far away from my mother.

Over the years, the seaweed wraps around my ankles,
crabs flutter across my feet,
jellies slime between my fingers,
and shrimp nibble at my toes–
and I take all that with a smile.

Maybe one day I'll assert my independence
in the water, but still, I love my mother's side.

~Hammeh

Most Engaging

THE PINCUSHION
on your left has told me all I need to know about you.

THE WAY
you have intentionally and determinedly stuck each one in.

LIKE IT'S THE HEART
of your exes, and you could not care less about the damage you've done.

AND THE STUFFING
is pushing out, like a butterfly in a cocoon; perhaps a last escape from your torture.

THE SMILE
on your lips, bright red and swooning.

I REALIZE
it is not for me to choose wisely, and I fall, like a spiral, into your net.

~Hammeh

Dash and Dance

AIR, WATER, EARTH, FIRE!!

No, nothing to say, sorry my dears~

Rabbit Rabbit

Happy July, yo!~

With a single prick,
plink! and royal blue
comes oozing out,
like diluted honey,
to change forever,
the color of the ocean.

~Hammeh