Lively brid, lovely bird
Hear my little song,
You come and sit my window sill
And hear my little song.

Butterfly, flutterby
Hear my little song,
You come and dance and fly around
And hear my little song.

Curly wind, whirly wind
Hear my little song,
You brush my cheeks and go away
With my tune of love.

Tiny flower, shiny flower
Hear my little song,
You wave your head and flash your scent
And smile the song of joy.

Let me sing, let me dance
With my song of love,
Butterfly and little bird,
You come and join me.

Because stones do not pray, even in their centuries’ quiet,
Because the vines are long, only for the sake of length,
Not like the drab Orpheus-song that always up-ruins.
Because vestal Autumn is a bride of noon-time rain,
A faithful stream with her white mist of suffibulum,
Beside the path whose footprints are half-notes from the grave.

Hold the pen and draw
Tell the pen to show
The mountain edge
A Flame on a bridge
A rainbow colored snow

Hold the pen and see
A Garden full of trees
A golden river
A talking flower
A child racing a fleet

Hold the pen and breathe
Tell the thoughts to scream
An eye with a vision
A mouth sings a rhythm
A step towards the dream

Put the pen and fly
In each way to try
Draw justice
Outline passion
Fill the air, don't be shy

I was into you
You were into me
When I looked into your eyes' store
So sharpen
Hunting what I was freak for
Dancing at heart
On the joy floor
Drunk by cherry wine
Blended with a taste of your lip
It was an unbelievable dream
I used to wait more
Til you'd come back for sure!

The words are twisting around me,
wringing me out like a wet towel.
The tune is stretched and thin
as if it's an ode to the last of my happiness.
It speaks to me almost as loud
as the ghosts screaming in my ears,
except the unprescribed medication
I drown myself in
doesn't keep it out of my head.
I have to remind myself daily --
they don't know you
they don't care about you
the words aren't sung about you.
But how could they not,
when they ring so true?
How can they not
when my stomach turns
to the time of the music,
when the tears leak out of my eyes
the same way the last notes
leave the guitar?
How can they not
when they're the only bridge to reality
I have left?

Brackets:
These brackets,
Big and small brackets,
I don't like its taste..
that's why I hate,
It makes me show,
You have to keep your feet..
here and not there,
as If I belong somewhere
but no where..
I want to make things clear,
No one can show me
If I do belong or I don't belong..
Keep this thing in you clear.
These boundaries you created
is your own mind creativity,
Keep it up to you within
your mind shell,
and just go to hell
that's where you actually belong
and don't ever try to sing this same song.

And I will wait for you:
Until the roses blossom,
And the trees bloom,
The moon becomes full once again,
And the spring is upon us,
When the birds’ songs begin to play,
And the anthem of love fills the air!

Hussein Dekmak

Broken
Broken
Broke
My back is broken
It pulls the air
Out of my lungs and
Silences
My song

You belong somewhere wholly different-
somewhere tranquil and calm

somewhere
where the lights aren't harsh
where the breeze is cool and warm
you belong where the air
tastes fresh and clean,
where mountain tops
break against the sunrise
and your hands can touch
all the softness of nature.

Where green is the color of everything
and your laugh mixes with birdsong
where you smile and a beam
of sunlight hits your face
and lights and warms you
where you know only love
and peace and happiness.

Where there is no fear,
no concept of pain
where every color is brighter,
every song is chillingly sung
and every day is good.

You belong to
the earth and her nature,
you belong to the ridges and peaks
and the branches of trees,
you belong to soft mossy ground
and sun-warmed pebbles,
you belong to everything beautiful
you belong to everything beautiful.