Dragona Radic hated her name for as long as she could remember. So obviously different than the Mary Butlers, and Ginny Gormans she grew up with in Flavor Town. Even Myrtle Feinstein seemed to be given a more applicable name to live in Flavor Town to Dragona’s mindset. Life was hard for Dragona in Flavor Town. Especially, when at twelve she began to grow a moustache. Living in Flavor Town wasn’t easy for anyone really, but to Dragona it was shear torture. Susie Choo became her best friend for more reasons of default than likeability. Being the only other girl with as much a non-conformable name as Dragona, Susie Choo’s distaste for her was equal. Still, Dragona Radic and Susie Choo formed an alliance, for what else were they to do living in Flavor Town. Flavor Town was a brand of the most delightful 56 flavors of ice-cream ever made, as well as the name of their hometown. You would think in Flavor Town diversity would be celebrated as much as variety. This sadly was not so. In America, you can find all 56 flavors of Flavor Town’s delectable frozen concoctions at any Buck Shops Here grocery outlets. Yet, little may you know of the atrocities occurring in Flavor Town, and what Dragona Radic and Susie Choo were about to do about it?

You are to blame
He must fix everything with duct tape
and there is never enough
And it's your fault
What have you done with his duct tape?

Those in need need duct tape
There's going to be war
and this finishing off
needs more duct tape

You begin to wonder
if duct tape
will hold together
the hole
where memory leaked away
And somehow you're to blame

Better buy more duct tape

Where the **** is the newspaper?
When the **** did he start using the word ****?
**** duct tape

Be credulous
swallow (whole)
gulp down
Make sure he's eating enough
Buy more duct tape

That malevolence
riddled upon his face
He's winning the Duct Tape Wars

Fight pugnacity's furor
there is this figurative war
and it will be won
with duct tape

O crimson, fresh sapling
O bronze Hell&Heaven;'s gate
You impress on a poet’s fate
Your wanton, insatiable burning.

© Lazhar Bouazzi, April, 2016

"Let me out" the figure in the painting calls
"Let me out of these one dimensional walls"

The figure of oil  let's out a sirenic drawl, that hypnotizes the starer
and makes him fall

nothing can hurt you but infinity is all

She was nature, beautiful
But deadly, her cheeks as
Scornful as a rose, the smile hid
The thorns underneath.

Her presence though unseen,
Could be felt, like the sun's warm
Breath on bare winter skin.

She led him somewhere secret
As the night lures the stars,
As clouds gorge on the
Fragile light of the moon.

Over the crumbled bodies
Of leaves, into the alien
Land of tranquility.

When he woke, hands burning,
There was nothing left to see.
Only a faint feeling glistening
In the air, a failing heart and
A tongue full of dreams.