Mummify the moments
research its components
a soul with a host
yet God owns it.
Lonely to leave
where you parted the sea
only to never know what could have been.

I swam in the Dead Sea and sunk,
does that mean I’m alive?
I lie awake at night harvesting my dreams from the soul of Abraham.
This land has been abandoned
like a Bible in a drawer at a motel,
what is the distance between
heaven and hell?
When the person sitting to your right is going one way and you were going another.

My mind held my heart hostage,
but somehow I have escaped
with only scars of chains, but no links, nothing left connecting me to past.

I wander like the wilderness
or better yet the rainforest,
being foraged,
cut down by a systematic “need”
And well, I need love.
We all do.

You and I have so much in common
and yet I would swallow the wind to digest the direction I need
and you would hold your mouth closed.

Fear of love poisons you, carbon monoxide.
I imagine that you are starving inside.
There is a man drowning
and God sent a boat
and here is love on your lips but you won’t open your throat?
If I have a headache from fighting my ego,
You must have migraines.
My ego is learning it has no authority
in a house where love is king
or maybe queen
It takes practice for a powerful women to let a king,
be king.

History repeats itself,
I like to think
I would have never picked the Apple,
but that type of strength may be an allusion.
I am just as vulnerable to rummage through the drawers of curiosity hoping to find
something more.

I have long been aware that even a dark room is not empty,
it holds matter.
So does it matter?
A weed strangles a flower,
and still it survives.
There is no metaphor for trust
where it exists
or
where it does not.

Prayer makes us stronger,
but the wolves are always hungry
during a full moon,
and the sun always sets at night,
and I am always full
of finding forever in the present.

I have no room left for distance
in my relationships.
Hold my hand,
so that I may hold your heart.

I wait for love to rise
like the breaking of sunlight
first thing in the morning,
my heart is on stage
there is one empty chair
in the audience,
is this…
the greatest show on earth?

So, I have been a painter, and a sketch artist my whole life, but I never have offered it to the world, only painted exclusively for my family. After sharing a few of my 2012 pieces on Facebook and Twitter and being asked if I would sell them, I decided to allow this. I am posting a few pieces below of which you can purchase the original, or you can send me a picture of your choosing and I will make a personal one for you! Contact me at a.houck@live.com and I will answer any of your questions!

See all paintings: CLICK HERE

My 2012 debut meditative poetry album “Battle Cries and Lullabies” is now on iTunes!

To listen to 30 second snippets of all 10 songs, CLICK HERE

“On the outside, women are lions, laced with beauty they are fierce powerful creatures, un-bordered, blended by a sharp yet delicate balance of sovereignty. And yet even the strongest women know, how love can knock ones equilibrium. When a woman is sincerely attracted to a man he has the ability to melt the very steel that creates her bulletproof vest, leaving a puddle around her feet for him to lay his coat on. In so much as a spilt second, his presence softly rounds out the corners of her lips, its a smile…without smiling, a smirk… without smirking… a silent energy exchange his masculine nature will need to validate, but only with a glance or simple phrase. The words arriving at his lips mean nothing compared to the soft undertones exchanged between two souls unearthing their chemistry… its simple…its un-trying, the linking of two souls is the rawest truth there is. There you are alone one moment and the next entwined like the DNA from Genesis. A balance set by Gods hands, every woman knows it takes a lion to see underneath she’s a lamb.”

- Amy Houck
My melodic poetry album is charting on iTunes “New and Noteworthy Spoken Word” http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/battle-cries-and-lullabies/id496711203

My new poetry and spoken word album just went live on itunes like a minute ago! Super excited to be able to let people have this now! It is called “Battle Cries and Lullabies” hope you like it. xoxohttp://itunes.apple.com/us/album/battle-cries-and-lullabies/id496711203

‎Staring into the night,

I look at how i’m living, thinking conscience decisions,

I envision a change, night vision out my window, a collision of blame,

theres war wit no victory, without epiphany and no name…

just broken love between John Doe and a Dame,

Im looking back at the beginning,

rewind the cassete, classic love,

thinking of when we met, telling crazy stories about our past,

laughing at the truth sharing a glass,

red wine, to decline the mind, and incline the moment,

how divine to fine a worthy opponent,

back at the house, cross the finish line to soon,

now we are immune to what could have been a new phase of the moon,

thats if the moon were patience not drunk at a saloon,

sleeping off a hangover till mid-afternoon.

Lessons are learned over time,

we repeat our ways, and speak cliches,

saying I know love, while praticing elaborate displays of “lust”,

expecting praise, then condemning ways of those we trust!

We are a confused species of lovers,

trying to find something…

something more…

sitting somewhere,

unwilling to change,

and all the while wanting,

someone

who already has.

-Amy Houck

Amy Houck

EXHALE…..

The attitudes are unnecessary, a gun fully loaded

time to start a revolution, change and you wrote it,

Keep love inside us, cuz it provides us, with the inner essence,

to shine like an EAGLE not crawl like a pheasant,

unpleasant how we do each other,

like “here hold that, be troubles surrogate mother”

Armor up, If the truth hurts respect it,

at least you aint gotta second guess it.

I know the games so crazy, the ego tries to make love to a lady,

but she don’t want its baby, cuz she’s TIRED of maybe!

she’s wants more, call it out by name,

a goose is a goose he don’t need no fame,

a good women in stash, but she aint frozen,

Knocks at the door but you’ve been chosen,

she’s sweeter then a strawberry

Mother Mary above, but watch her sing like a canary

for the one she love,

My poetry’s deep,

alive while you sleep,

warming your soul

like wool to a sheep,

Magnetic, two people vibe,

like words in scripture,

written by a scribe,

but every time theres lies,

its dirtys love,

no circumcise.

little birdies fly,

south for the winter in the summer,

these birds getting dumber and dumber,

it aint hard to tell a diamond from a rock,

ones banging the keys, the other Sebastian Bach,

When I was young, words were honored then,

but now I know so few honorable men,

decimals to the dolla like our money to YEN.

I once stood still on the street with my heart on the concrete

Im a proud women but humble enough to admit defeat,

Now its all about the present,

turn dark to light, with slight contrast

switch your state of mind,

can’t hold to that past,

thats a fools mistake,

you can have it all,

break this bread,

and partake.

-Amy Houck

Lighting strikes over the backs of white horses but they close their eyes
fear the absence of wisdom, to even the wise.
….or is it surprise,
..or youth?
is longevity proof
when we break our own laws,
some sort of…personal misdemeanor to our soul…
is winning not taking part
is seeing part, of the whole?
Run Run Run,
as fast as you can
escape the wildness!
the wilderness of friends,
Delicate decisions
made abruptly for
what we humans call,
“the sake of time”
but I prefer the saying
TIME WASTED.
We wait…until we waited
and think until we thought
and unlearn all the love
that the moment taught.
We need so much perfection,
that we proofread the wildness of our own heart,
and then send out false stories to print
….Falling in love with test-copies and first edition lies!
To know what we know and ignore it,
is perhaps the worst thing about language…
to be able to communicate but yet…
not say a thing….
and when talking
to say things we aren’t even sure of yet..
or, know to be alterations of the words we have conducted
into sentences to brace truth we want to understand.
And orchestra of words formed into knives,
to wage a war on what we are not ready for!
We run run run,
as fast as we can,
to stop the changes
we don’t admire in friends.
Fierce is the heart,
that learns to stand still
and tries to digest
the purpose of Gods will.

-Amy L. Houck

Today I changed the world but no one noticed,
elevated us all, like Otis,
invisible beauty,
no one knew me,
at least not the me I wanted them to know,
but not woe is me,
its more eb and flow,
my mind a chateau,
where travelers sleep,
and traveling thoughts,
stop and say hello,
remember them not
a notorious john doe,
nameless faces
leaving traces
I embrace
like the scent of perfume
to the wind,
except I am wind,
hooked to the earth
with a safety pin,
so fragile is a moment,
it ends and begins,
there is not another,
no identical twin,
we are the space
within,
between,
seams of moments,
stitching patterns
to intricate,
to see the meaning head on,
close your eyes no lights on,
heighten sense give us glimpses
into higher beings,
we crave to become,
without becoming aware we are
the being we seek to be,
but only in the moment we
respect the reflection
of ourself in introspection,
prayer and mediation
a self resurrection
YES, this is a complex session,
not meant for easy digestion,
I may have already lost you,
while you were self protecting,
with a false sense of perfection,
because your affections are buried,
what you love the most you carry
like a burden,
refusing to do, to be, to become,
who you born to be.
Take a moment to stop.
eyes closed,
heart open,
hand up to heaven,
hoping,
for a glimpse of more,
insight into the reasons
we live and die for.
-Amy Houck

I confess,
I have spent lifetimes upon lifetimes
looking, searching, hoping for a residence
to hold my love,
I have spent time calculating the odds
and comparing the answers,
Finding truth etched in-between my souls walls
like cave paintings with no meaning
and yet…when I stare at them
I FEEL EVERYTHING,
where the world said there was nothing….
There is a place in our hearts
where words loose there meaning and combine into tongue twists
where even I,
hardly exist,
retire with no pension
I have worked to hard for a love of no mention,
I am changed because you (life) have changed me,
forgive me when I say I have sinned,
even if I only whisper my worries to the wind,
and in secret the wind only talks to the moon,
to whisper love to the sun,
about the birth of the womb.
Born from a flood of elements
collected in 9 months of development
a survivor blooms,
I search for that which shall not be named,
because it has no name until I know it.
A kiss can still capture your bottom lip
in its mouth, and turn you on,
but it will never capture you for lifetimes.
I am intenesly removed from the impulsivity of
connecting with another human being
for the sake of a moment, when I know i’m creating the moment
like Im watching a movie I already know has an ending.
I DEMAND LIGHTING.
when he kisses my lips,
thunder ripples down my breast plate
and vibrates my heart,
up and down.
I never knew the difference,
until I was shaken.
I didn’t believe I could be much stronger
then life had built me to be,
but I am.
WE ARE TWICE BORN,
once when we discover talk of love,
second when love discovers us talking.
To be or not to be matters not
eternity is still walking, tied like an imblical cord knot.
forgot I got here on purpose, forgive me im still learning these things. Whats really the matter if we could beat the recipe of happiness into a batter
and bake it into a cake, then eat and drink of it like fools,
dancing on water, unaware the surface is flexible
and bends based on your own belief system.
when in fact… to un-believe what you were taught
is often the key to freedom.
Cotton mouth,
because there are no words
to quench the thirst of a woman
looking for love,
or a man who has settled for lust
and tries to describe it as love.
Fear of the dark
of the night,
of un-fullied dreams
is NOTHING
compared to the fear of a life without love.
Cold sweats, wet sheets,
and a living death,
breathes at your closed window,
so much so that it frosts in the summer,
a cold soul,
untouched.
Waiting for the rush of someone reaching out
and grabbing your hand,
so you could feel the blood in your own body,
Weightless in a world of gravity,
a ring of saturn un-touching the core,
unquote the raven who never hatched,
nevermore, or rather never-mind that,
never mind love, where love is detached…
rather attach love to Infinity,
storm mental barricades
with an infantry of thoughts
without the sand bags to hold the waves
we need to feel our own power,
so that we know what we are capable of.
What if…
all the leaves that have fallen
from all the trees,
in all the autumns,
that turned to summer,
and all the summers
that turned to fall
and all the time wasted
no loving… at all,
There are still voices blooming in the silence,
GIVE THEM TIME.
The greatest experiment,
is unraveling who we are,
to combine with another,
and create a value no currency can hold.
A DNA with open ends
merging into another, a blend,
fate once departed
together again.
SURRENDER not to the IDEA,
but to the TRUTH,
we are bound to the simplicity
of being complicated.
And making love much harder then it is,
GIVE
TAKE
throw a fist at yourself if you must
until you break
bleed,
need
more.
Twilight calls to restless souls,
and alcohol warms the places where we stopped letting people in…
Although there is no money on your nightstand
you have paid the cost of freedom.
Settled into false lovers,
and forgetting dreams like a language you once knew,
courage is not worn in a material world,
and bravery wipes off the skin like cheap makeup,
who are we within?
what matters the most
what erupts your core
feel your ideas like
a prenatal earthquake,
cracking seeds into pieces,
only to become twin thoughts,
we are star crossed lovers.
without the nighttime to see each other…
we are always changing,
forever evolving
There is no scientific explanation for love
no document to prove of its discovery
there was no first love found captured in arctic ice,
picked away with an axe to determined its origin,
instead we wandered in the wilderness of finding ourselves,
and in the process,
have found each other.

-Amy L. Houck

I am a poet because I am confused and yet I’m learning
because….I do not have the answers and yet I’m searching….
I am a poet because I lay awake and night with words casting neon reflections
onto a theater screen only for my viewing.
I try but I can not explain words the world showed me like a secret
to a world that doesn’t know how to keep one.
I’d rather poetry be my mistress
and fall in love with her in secret
where I can caress her body down
with kisses of vocabulary
and whisper in her ear
while my tongue caress liquid language
translating my emotion into breathe,
hot and heavy
next paragraph,
breathing down her breast plate,
fogging up space over the window of her heart,
kissing her belly
where I hear the rumbling of food for thought,
and grab her hips rubbing my hands over her thighs,
to caress the top of legs that hold the feet that walk the earth.
THAT is how poetry whispers to a poet!
Most of your will never know,
some of you already have loved her.
and to you I close my eyes and grin
such a smile only lovers know.

-Amy L. Houck

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