i have asked but
it remains unclear
if it was planted
purposefully
by somebody
for some reason
unknown to the rest
or merely discarded
within a pile of
offcuts and waste
following a frenzy
of gardening chores
regardless of
whether it was
intended or not
it has taken root
it has bloomed
bright and proud
brilliant cherry red
against dandelion yellow
and uncut-grass green
one solitary red tulip
amongst the weeds

Bloom as you have reached your time
Show your beauty as you're born for
Sting with thorns as it is what you need to
Wither as your time has come

Some things are natural
Predictable and constant
Like falling leaves in autumn 
And flowers blooming in spring
Hopefully the same can be said
About you and me

Exerting true power
I bloom
Into the flower
Of the present.

I belong
To the roses blooming with elegance,
The birds song yearning for love,
The spring singing the song of life,
The dawn declaring a new beginning,
The moon shining on lovers’ footsteps.

I Belong
To the cry of the suffering souls,
The dish that feeds the hungry stomaches,
The sacred justice that was crucified,
The whispers of my mother’s prayer.

I Belong,
To the kind words that sooth other’s pains,
The random acts of kindness,
The hearts that are full of compassion,
The idea that plant seeds for positive change,

I Belong,
To the hope of all of humanity,
The inventor of all of the infinite beauty,
The beautiful song of all of creation,
The God of the whole universe.

Hussein Dekmak

cocktail of pills
flutes of smoke
run away baby let's just go
on a journey, earning our stripes
on a journey, to be us in spite
of all of the backlash, never returning to the past
the fruitful future is sweeter than the blooming flowers
stay with me please, just an hour
serotonin pumping, my heart jumping
out of my chest, kiss you on your neck
run away baby
run away again
into the green, grounded like trees
our roots intertwine, your soul is divine
run away baby
run away with your every time

Walk in
the garden
of the moon
as a lover,
the flowers of
you becomes
a guest within
the heart,
it does
not ask
of how
you bloom,
but, of how
you became
the home.

We look
upon the
the flowers,
thinking,
“I was once
you, before
my eyes
were known
to your
bloom”
the wind is
lifting the
petals
gently as
wanderers
of the sea,
the night
falls,
us and
them
are as
blinking
stars,
floating
almost
endlessly,
unaware
of the
lights
we give,
and yet,
unwavering.