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GhostCat Apr 16
Looking for inspiration
In a desolate dreary wasteland
The same **** just different days spent
Hoping life will finally make sense
Cos I've got bored and aggravated
With the drama that will unfold
Is this really the end of the road before me I behold?
So I form facts from fiction
To avoid repetition
Of dreary events to which each week ends
Cos my yesterdays tomorrow
You know so my yesterday will follow today
A bit like Bill Murray
From that film Groundhog Day
But with a lot less adventure
Or comedic reflection
A script not to question
No seems between scenes
I'm caught in a dream I can't see me come free from
And those are the facts son
There's no lights camera action
No glitz and no glamour
Definitely no famous actor
With the hardest tasks keeping track of
...
Straight from morning to night
In the flash of an eye
The same simple ending
A yawn then a sigh
Only to wake with a shudder
Butterflies inside flutter
Feeling nothing but gutted
No new day
No new dollar
It's the same as before
As you walk out the door
The same route to work
To prepare for the worst
And they call it White Collar
Should be Call Centre Curse
I am a little bird.
I aim to soar and fly high up in the sky.
Although I tumble, I always rise.
I long to be free
Of all my pain and sorrows.
I strive to be alive,
And reach new horizons everyday!

I have a song, I have a fire;
I enchant people and fill their hearts with peace, hope, and happiness.
I am content with little,
Yet, I own the whole universe.
I travel the world to awaken
One soul at a time to the call of love!

Hussein Dekmak
Hussein Dekmak Oct 2021
If you end up in what feels like a wasteland,
Make positive change.
Sprinkle seeds of promise,
Grow some trees,
Plant lots of flowers,
Invite the melodious birds,
And awaken spring to the call of renewed hope.

Hussein Dekmak
maria Sep 2021
I gave you all of me
and you,
you can't even pick up the phone
you make me feel so small
written on September 17, 2021
© ,Maria
Alina Sep 2021
a missed call notification lingers on my phone, taunting me in the small moments, reminding me of opportunities lost. A single minute voicemail replayed a hundred times. Your voice seeping into my marrow growing cold as it lingers. It's all I have left, all of you that remains. A notification, a reminder, a promise that just hours before it all, I was what occupied your mind.

A.C.
Wilkes Arnold Sep 2021
There once was man and a scholar
Seeing a woman though he'd rarely call her
She'd text and want more
But he thought it a chore
What a ******-up commitment teetotaller
Hussein Dekmak Aug 2021
Be a green leaf that celebrates life with every new dawn, absorbing a full cup of energy with every sunrise.
Awaken humanity to the call of love!

Hussein Dekmak
Edited
Hadrian Veska Jul 2021
The dry tundra calls to you
Whispering a phrase
A memory that flows
In between and through
The forest needle and pine
Something lies beyond
Far past the snow and sterile ice
Over the great mountains
The places of our birth
Nothing more than an inclination
That all we hope there to be
Has not yet been made know
That the secret hidden for ages
Has in turn hidden us within it
Preserving us in a way unseen
That when the time does come
In far flung ages hence
All things might be revealed
And the barren wastes
Turn to fruitful gardens
Alec Astaire Jun 2021
I wish that I could call you
Tonight at 4 A.M.
To pour out all the secret feelings
Hidden in my head
You need to know “I love you” is a
Phrase I’ve never said
And at 4 A.M. I gasp for breath
As those words fill my lungs instead

Maybe you believe
That I’m shallow with intentions
If I can clear the air,
I’ll have so much more to mention
At 4 A.M. I can’t admit
Our hearts have no connection
Though hot and cold,
When we’re alone, I often feel our tension

I really want to ask
If I should make a move
Because the way you talk to me
Just leaves me so confused
At 4 A.M. I beg the stars
And wish upon the moon
That I don’t ruin what we’ll have
From needing to know too soon

I wish that I could call you
But for now, I’ll hold my bluff
Cause even though it’s 4 A.M.
I know that you’ll pick up
This poem is about mixed signals and how they make you feel
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