Snap
I can feel my branches trembling
Snap
I can feel my roots quiver
Snap
I can feel my body shake
Snap
I can hear a faint whisper
Snap
I try my best to still my movements
Snap
So that the voice becomes clear
Snap
I hold it all inside
Snap
Until I hear all of the lies
Snap
I tell myself I’m stable
Snap
But I know it isn’t real
Snap
I breathe through the chaos
Snap
Until the chaos breaks through
Snap
I am not thriving
Snap
I am barely surviving
Snap
I hold myself back
Snap
Until one day I finally
Snap
And see the mess I’ve made
Snap
I am running out of branches
Snap
But all I need is one
Snap
To remind me who I am
Snap
I am stronger than I speak
Snap
I am kinder than I act
Snap
I embrace the anger
Snap
I embrace the sadness
Snap
I embrace what made me
Snap
And I choose to
Stop
I choose to
Grow

The fruit of
the Pacific madrone
tree may at
first entice you
with its fiery
scarlet skin.

But bite
into it and
you’ll taste
astringent, gristly pith—
with hard seeds
like discarded
children’s teeth.

You will know
that foolish feeling
that lurks within
the shadow between
sugary expectations
and bitter truth.

A lovely tree, so carefree,
In serene tranquility
With it I would spend my night,
And let come whatever might

Red-yellow leaves, sparsely wreathed,
Life into the air it breathes
Dying breaths, it pays a price
Gives its solemn sacrifice

It’s not fair, you’ll soon be bare,
Most will not even care,
At least for now, your leaves so bright
Make for such an enviable sight.

They cut down the trees and then urge the young to plant them again, about how life goes, as if age is just a number, and we no longer believe in power.

They cut down the trees, clear land,
make production, then shop spree for a vision and mission because life only once and needs to be enjoyed, wrapped in a paper bag and then thrown away and become a homeless person's sleeping mat in front of the overhang of shops.

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

nothing beats random
tree to halt life momentum
brown leaves on chill ground

I used to work in a factory once with a lot of girls
One day the girls they were talking about this guy who apparently used to **** sheep
They called him a Sheepshagger
Of course being young at the time and coming from a rather sheltered background I suppose
I'd never heard of such a thing, and was well... amazed!!!
Hell I thought, you could really get an education listening to these girls
(I'm in with a fast crowd here)
I didn't know you could **** a sheep,
Just goes to show if you don't know about something you probably won't indulge in it.
Anyway, the girls went on "Typical men, disgusting, a bunch of animals, they'd jump on anything, no better than dogs"
The funny thing was, the way my mind works or turns things around
I couldn't help thinking
'But isn't it a poor reflection on the women of this town
That a guy would rather go out with a sheep
Than go out with one of you guys'
And then I thought, imagine your girlfriend bringing you down to a field
And you're standing there at the gate the two of you
And then she gives you the Big... the Big Ultimatum
"Choose!!! It's Me or the Sheep!
And you look at her with all that intensity and drama on her face
And then you look over the gate at the sheep grazing peacefully and idyllically in the meadow
You look at her and then back at the sheep
The answer to her question in the balance,
Suddenly a ray of sunlight comes down through the heavens
Illuminating one particular sheep
You watch in awe and think... it's... it's the Golden Fleece
You turn to your girl and say
"I got to be true to myself, to my Nature's promptings
Darling! I'll always love you
But those sheep their just so...so irresistible"
And with that you hop over the fence and start running after your favourite sheep
A picture of unbridled Joy and Happiness as you pursue your dream love.....

Y'know, just in passing, there's some very **** looking trees close to where I live
But you gotta be careful, yea! you don't wanna catch the old, the old dry rot.

I was sixteen when the machines came.
The letters “C-A-T” screamed at me from across the street
As the harsh yellow tore at the roots of the
Cherry trees across the street.
Of course the orchard had never been mine,
I had not planted the seeds and curated the
Beautiful blooms through their short lives,
Picked the cherries off the trees myself.
But what about all the photoshoots I’d done
Among the gorgeous white blooms,
All the times my friend had walked through
The rows of trees to get to my house and
Left paint splatters of cherries across the kitchen floor,
All the sunsets I’d seen through the leaves
That made me nostalgic for things
I had never experienced?
What if I’m growing up and moving out
And can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that
These plants that have smiled at me from my
Window for over a decade have returned
To the Earth?
What if these days the
Weeks are crying when they should be glowing and
The absence of trees is simply the target of
One of those odd tricks that sorrow shoots out of the mind
That remind me that change is the only thing that’s
Permanent?
I wish that the emptiness of the field could be replaced by
Happy little white blooms
But instead the CAT machines screech and moan
And all I can feel is
The ache of old nostalgia and the
Peculiar nostalgia of the unknown.