i hope the poem that rests on your tongue,
vibrant and lovely, speaks your truth.
and that this truth is all your own and knows
your love in its wholeness; anxiety, fright,
happiness included.

that the object of your desire, human
and beautiful, meets you where you rest,
and loves you with the same heat
and kindness that you deserve.

and that you grow from the experience
of wanting beyond your selfish heart,
into something that only wants the best
for another, for no reason
other than their happiness with
or without you.

night is falling with high speed on my shoulders
it has a strange elasticity
I ask your skin to give me some memories,
a superconductivity for sonic pulses & tactile waves,
quantic waves are collapsing into a strange synchronicity
the air might survive untrapped but not in my cells
a torid torrent makes your moves catch gravity
I can't be prosaic cause desire might ****
all the singing birds of the blue nights
that were rarely seen losing their tension
between silence and pain this emotional upheaval
that pushes the skin to the frontiers of asphyxiation
we are in Plato's cave right now burning down
the shadows with the magnitude of
you and I inside we are or just this
reciprocal dislocation
there is no I, no you, nothing less than
an infinite field of mutual recognition
a blazing simplicity unspoken

I have ships in my bones they carry me
somewhere else like a misunderstanding cause
the I of the world carries the evening
over the mountains on misterious ways
a nasty habit the imagination
sometimes I wonder if the ancestors are stalking these walls
to see if we can be happy
against the sacrifice of song
cause we die without thinking about it
a little bit every day from this stride
to put everything in its place
inside

If i had a bottle of magical reagent
I'd take out a third of it
and put it in the sky
and turn the sky as blue
as it should be
if i had a bottle of magical reagent
I would take out a third
and put it in the lake
let the lake return
to its rightful clarity
If I had a bottle of magical reagent
I would take out one-third
and put it in my heart
let my heart be restored
to its original innocence
if there's such a bottle of reagent
I'd think to myself
i would sit
under the azure welkin
watching fluffy clouds
smooth flowing waters
I'd feel as light as the breeze
and my heart as wild
as a bee.

You were like a little kid looking to buy a new toy.

You picked the expensive one because it was
shiny and pretty and new,
but you didn't have enough money.
So you settled for the cheaper toy
even though you wanted the other one
so much more.

Eventually, you were happy.
But you still dreamt of that shiny toy
every time you closed your eyes.

Let me:
Sail into your dreams
Cuddle your fantasies
Hear your silence
Utter your thoughts
Read your unspoken words
Touch your imagination
Embrace your desires.
Sing to your heart
Kiss your soul
Taste your sweetness
Touch your kindness
Feel your happiness and
Dance inside your chest

Let me be:
Your gentle breeze,
The spring of your life
The inspiration of your love and
The whisperers of your being

Hussein Dekmak

silence falls over me from above
the sea songs in my hair wait for an allusion
my hips are shelter for the dance of blue shades
love is this imprecise semiosis even when
you go into specifics about its wavelengths
the splitting time of atoms,
its intensity, radiation and schedule

my steps leave no trace, my hands have no voice in your deja vu
a semiotic thing your imaginary body
there is no point in living only in one dimension
an unknowable god takes snapshots from our deeper minds while
love is just this superimposed image falling from above, turning into the sea

If the sea were to talk to me,
I'd listen closely to its song,
to catch the tales it wants to tell,
of the life it carries along.

Perhaps it would share tales of whales,
and of dolphins dancing with glee,
or of tempests that shook its soul,
leaving chaos and debris.

The sea may speak of hidden pearls,
and treasures hidden in its heart,
and of pirates who dared to loot,
craving fortunes that never part.

But the sea may also mourn,
of sailors lost and never found,
and of all the storms it has weathered,
And the wreckage washed aground.

What if the sea could talk to me,
what secrets would it disclose?
could it whisper of creatures strange,
and of distant ships it did steal and froze?