The Bomb and the Bulb

Faces built from a material harder than plaster—

Belonged to the preachers standing beneath the flag—

That read “Delivering the Will of God”.

All of them who dealt with “God”,

Firmly believed—

That solemnity was the sharpest tool to tame the world.

Once they lost it,

Their faces would look no different,

From clowns in a circus…

They knew well what their audience loved to hear,

Just two topics:

Forgiveness and bread.

“Forgiveness” could let these people feel forever blameless,

Granting them real comfort.

“Bread” was what none of them could ever escape,

Even until death.

So their favorite line to repeat was:

“Thank ‘God’ for giving us bread.

As long as you follow us,

‘God’ will always forgive you…”

They loved to make people kneel,

Loved to see the furrowed brows,

And the slightly wet corners of people’s eyes.

They were like bus drivers,

Responsible for delivering a passenger called “God”,

Into everyone’s heart.

After that, “God” would take care of all the rest.

This passenger named “God”,

Was like the pivot of a seesaw—

The acceptable and the unacceptable

in everyday life,

Could now all be explained in plain human words:

“Because it’s the will of God,

That’s why it all exists…”

Thus the world was spared,

The fatigue and frequency of thinking.

And people were grateful to them,

For finding the most righteous excuse,

For not using their own brains!

It was a grand agreement,

As if the entire universe had shrunk,

Into the size of a button.

Then they said from the pulpit:

“‘God’ loves everyone.

When we die, we’ll go to It.

Everything good exists there—

As long as you remain servants of ‘God’.

If we could see It right now,

That would be our immediate blessing…”

At that moment,

Someone whispered a single word:

“Bomb…”

And instantly they—all of them—were terrified.

People shoved,

Scrambling with their eyes—

To find the way out.

It seemed their brains,

Unused for too long,

Had grown so dull,

They couldn’t even remember where the entrance was.

They ran faster than anyone,

The crowd following close behind—

Their speed rivaling the gazelles…

Then the culprit,

The whisperer,

Jumped up to stop the panic:

“I said ‘bulb’, not ‘bomb’.”

He pointed upward—

To a lightbulb above them.

Everyone looked and understood:

One of the bulbs in the hall,

Had simply gone out.

They sighed in relief,

And sent someone to bring the preachers back.

When they returned and learned the situation,

They too were overjoyed,

Repeating again and again:

“Let’s thank our ‘God’—

It has spared our lives.

For It once said—

Not cherishing life is itself a sin…”

Everyone laughed,

Looking toward that broken bulb—

That very direction—

Where they said “God” resided…

James Tian, Philippines 

The Poetry of Escalations by Armenida Qyqja

(By Inga Zhghenti)

My latest article on contemporary Georgian poetry titled Where Does Georgian Poetry Stand Today? looks at the modern poetic voice of Georgia. I would apply the same question to any poetry of today—in this world of constant changes with dramatically turbulent technological aspirations which still a failure to prioritize and secure peace. 

After reading Golden Armor, the poetry collection by Tirana-born Armenida Qyqja, I would rather generalize my question: “Where does poetry stand today?” The answer would be: “At the crossroads” of physical and spiritual uncertainties and escalations, making up the blood and body of any real poetry. These uncertainties and escalations are inseparable constituents of the book Golden Armor as it captures the most intimate and relatable journeys of searching the idea of “the self,” the unattainability and vulnerability of happiness, the unavoidability of fate, and the determined void and futility of the contemporary world dictated by consumerism, fabricated reality, and promulgated injustice, all juxtaposed with the concerns conditioned by the realization and recognition of life’s absurdity. 

The lyrical hero narrates the stories through emotions where physical and spiritual quests and pains interweave and intermix without borders. The voice speaking up in different poems exposes the feelings of alienation, loneliness, emptiness, and imperceptible and evasive time. The lines of the poems manifest alienation as both psychological and physical exile. 

In the poem “Sons and Daughters of Pragmatism,” the poet calls us “the sons and daughters of pragmatism” who “wink an eye at our own image in the mirror and run along.” The passage sets the scene of individuals escaping from their reflections and perceptions, thus demonstrating quite common detachment from the self of nowadays. 

The poem “They Say” also explores unrecognized alienation and emptiness reflected in the mirror. In the first two lines, the piece delivers a vivid image of existential isolation: “I’ve been hiding from myself for a long time, I hide from that emptiness that can’t be seen in a mirror,” somehow reminiscent of Sartrean nausea. The existential plights are further outlined in the poems “Waiting to Hear Your Voice” and “Somewhere, Near the Heart,” where emotional longing for the loved one’s presence and somewhat Beckettean absurdism are interspersed. 

The poet’s figurative stance finds particular comfort in juxtaposing images. Therefore, love and war are explored side by side, thus stipulating the fortuitousness and illogicality of events. In “Bitter Thoughts,” the concept of love faces the threat of destruction in wartime. On the other hand, the gratitude for not being born in a war-torn land is tinged with survivor’s guilt. The poet exposes the tragedy of war and the fatality of love through the destruction of Gaza and Ukraine. 

Undated Battles also envisions the theme of love and war through the lens of violence. This retrospect might be alluding to T.S. Eliot’s representation of the fragmented nature of human existence in chaotic times. Although the self of the lyrical hero is broken, deconstructed, and fragmented by the challenges of existence, there remains a constant yearning for meaning and redemption in the quest the hero reveals. 

The poems “Come Closer,” “Find Me,” and “When You Shall Arrive” still find it meaningfully worth striving to reconcile with the self. In “Come Closer,” the power of love is seen as a bridging domain in existential voids, thus somehow resonating with Rainer Maria Rilke’s notion of love being challenging but yet a necessary “confrontation” with another soul.  

One more significant focus of the poetry collection by Armenida Qyqja is the struggles of the fragmented and dismantled self in the materialized universe guided by social media and the futility of its content. “Mental Paralysis” communicates criticism about the superficiality of social media, assessing it as an anesthetic silencing of independent reasoning, quite similar to George Orwell’s warnings declared in his novel 1984. 

Spiritual decay and consumerism are condemned in “Mercenaries of Chaos,” in this sense resonating with Jean Baudrillard’s theories on hyperreality, where reality is replaced by fabricated spectacle. The poem diagnoses the modern world by anorexia, both spiritual and modern: 

Spiritual and mental anorexia,

that has no cure, no stimulus,

the most evil chronic condition

is going to wipe out the human race

at a much higher rate

than all viruses created in labs.

But still, there is a belief that

this darkness shall pass,

its curtains won’t be able to restrain the sun forever,

close your eyes and see with the light (For the strong…)

The entire trajectory of the words in the book replays the inner voice of the human, attacked by the destructive nature of existence exposed through wars, hatred, emptiness, absurdity, and the fatality of life. Nevertheless, the author does not kneel to all these challenges stipulated by life’s nature but stands up to overcome them all through longing for the voice of love and survival, as the mythological Greek king Sisyphus stands against fate through his relentless attempts admired throughout the centuries.  

Armenida Qyqja was born in Tirana, Albania in 1977 and immigrated to Canada in 1995. She is the author of eight poetry books and two books of short stories. Her most recent book is Golden Armor, a poetry collection published by Transcendent Zero Press (Texas, USA 2025).

Dr. Inga Zhghenti is a Fulbright Scholar, translator, and literary scholar whose work bridges Georgian and American cultures. She has translated Samuel Beckett, Louise Glück, Emily Dickinson, John Updike, Diane di Prima, and leading Georgian poets, with publications in the international poetry platform Versopolis, Georgia’s leading literary journal Arili, and Upsala Literature Magazine (Sweden). Active as a reviewer, editor, and cultural advocate, she is a Visiting Professor of English at DeVry University, teaching Composition and Advanced Composition, and directs Language Arts at the Georgian-American Cultural Center Dancing Crane in New York. She speaks internationally on literature, translation, and identity, advancing dialogue across languages and cultures through scholarship and creativity.

Lots of Linen

First day

In Colombo and

After checking out 

Several stores

And trying on 

Dozens of shirts

He finds four linen shirts

That work for him

Ten minutes

After he pays

He gets a WhatsApp message 

From Sri Lankan Airlines

His bag has been found

And he needs 

To return

To the airport

To get it.

Taylor Dibbert is a poet in Washington, DC. He’s author of, most recently, “On the Rocks.”

The greatest blessing to find,

Is a heart both true and kind,

A magnanimous spirit, vast and deep,

Where empathy and compassion softly sleep. 

And with this heart, a mind that will not bend,

A tenacious spirit, until the very end,

Where storms of doubt and trials we may face,

Will keep us steadfast in our rightful place. 

A spirit strong will not yield,

Across life’s vast unfolding field,

Where hearts entwine, compassion’s touch,

Woven through a hopeful aurora. 

With an unyielding mind, so strong and true,

Through every challenge, rise above, it’s up to you,

With spirits high, beneath an ever-watchful sky,

Push your existence to the heart’s bright aura, nearby. 

In realms where fortune’s whispers softly gleam,

That brightens the soul, and shadows fleeting moments teem,

As clear as morning’s light, a guiding star,

To banish endless nights, no matter how far. 

And seal your life, seal your fate,

With love and strength, forever bound,

In blessings deep, and joy profound.

Amina Kasim Muhammad is a Nigerian writer, poet, with a passion for writing and values her pen and book. She found herself by the way stories could transport her to different worlds and the way ideas could be shaped and shared through writing. She’s a member of Minna Literary Society (MLS). She’s on Instagram as Meena Kasim.

The Clock  

On the wall of heaven hangs a clock, 

invisible, silent, without hands,

 and yet — it is everywhere. 

It does not measure minutes, 

but the tremors of the soul. 

Its mechanism is moved by truth, 

and its hands stop 

when a man lies. 

It knows the difference between words and feelings, 

it hears the silence of the heart 

when it trembles under the weight of guilt. 

It is no ordinary clock — 

it is God’s measure of goodness, 

a secret guardian of sincerity. 

Every thought, every intention, 

every shadow in one’s gaze 

leaves a trace upon its glass. 

When you love purely, it shines, 

when you envy, a gear breaks within it. 

It does not tick “tick-tock,” 

but whispers: 

“were you truthful,” 

“have you touched souls,” 

“were you truly you.” 

Its time does not pass, 

it judges. 

And while the world turns in false seconds,

 that clock — unseen, eternal — quietly measures souls, not days.

 

Maja Milojković was born in Zaječar and divides her life between Serbia and Denmark. In Serbia, she serves as the deputy editor-in-chief at the publishing house Sfairos in Belgrade. She is also the founder and vice president of the Rtanj and Mesečev Poets’ Circle, which counts 800 members, and the editor-in-chief of the international e-magazine Area Felix, a bilingual Serbian-English publication. She writes literary reviews, and as a poet, she is represented in numerous domestic and international literary magazines, anthologies, and electronic media. Some of her poems are also available on the YouTube platform.

Maja Milojković has won many international awards. She is an active member of various associations and organizations advocating for peace in the world, animal protection, and the fight against racism. She is the author of two books: Mesečev krug (Moon Circle) and Drveće Želje (Trees of Desire). She is one of the founders of the first mixed-gender club Area Felix from Zaječar, Serbia, and is currently a member of the same club. She is a member of the literary club Zlatno Pero from Knjaževac, and the association of writers and artists Gorski Vidici from Podgorica, Montenegro.

Dr. Antonello Turco’s Holistic Method Is Art and Culture

From Italy, having spread to other European countries, Dr. Antonello Turco’s holistic method has arrived in the USA. 

It is a method for physical and mental health that, especially, has a direct and tangible connection to art.

It is certainly a cutting-edge method for physical and mental health.

I have known Dr. Turco for a year, and our relationship has become increasingly interesting and intense, as it encompasses aspects of both the physical and spiritual, but above all, always related to creativity and art.

Now, if extreme attention to appearance was once exclusive to our world of celebrities, this aspect has extended to everyone in the space of about fifty years, albeit with some discrepancies resolved precisely by Dr. Antonello Turco’s holistic method.

Dr. Turco began with a degree in Nutrition and Sports Sciences, followed by years of experience in fitness and coaching, daily developing a method that places creativity and art at its core.

For those in the celebrity world, everything is geared toward serving the audience , and therefore, the more one’s health, physical appearance, and ability to constantly optimize one’s persona improve, the more fame, one thinks it increases.

Generally, this process is often at the expense of one’s private life, since for those in show business, the priority belongs to public life, not private life.

One of the reasons for Dr. Turco’s growing success is precisely that he “gives” everyone the full range of elements that can generate optimal physical health, including excellent physical appearance.

Despite this, Dr. Turco is often in Malibu and Hollywood, and global stars flock to seek his advice.

The really interesting aspect is that the “Dr. Turco Method” is constantly evolving and therefore we will talk about it again since it is becoming a cultural and artistic motif in itself.

Moreso, Series Two

Her parents told her that marriage to a carnival barker would never work out, but she was a seamstress, and the carnival needed one, so that was that. They toured the country together as carnies for over 40 years, he touting the acts, she mending the pants.

When they finally retired, due to age and, frankly, a change in public taste, they settled in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and became enthusiastic Yoopers.

---

“You smell of regret,” she told him. He sniffed the air around him. No odor of regret, as far as he could tell. Sure he had his share of regrets, don’t we all, but nothing he thought was noticeable.

“We don’t always notice our own odors,” she told him. “That’s what friends are for.”

---

“One chicken panino,” the man ordered.

“One chicken panini?” the waiter asked.

“There’s no such thing as one chicken panini. Two chicken panini, yes.”

“Whatever you say,” the waiter replied, and a few minutes later returned with two chicken panini.

---

Two homines erecti were divvying up their take after an exhausting day of hunting and gathering. “Same time tomorrow?” one of them grunted. “Sure thing,” the other grunted back.

---

A single shoe was lying in the middle of the crosswalk, a Rockport World Tour walking shoe, the left one, tan nubuck, size 10.5, extra-wide, my size, I discovered when I picked it up. I looked down at my feet. Both were securely shod in size 10.5 extra-wide tan nubuck Rockport World Tour walking shoes. But the lost shoe, or should I say found shoe, was in much better condition, like new, I’d say, while mine had seen better days, a little dirty, heels worn.

Should I take the shoe? But what would I do with it? If I wore it
instead of my current left shoe its quality would become a liability. I’d walk with an uneven gait due to the difference in the heels, and it would show up my right shoe as a sad old thing on its last legs. So I couldn’t take the lost shoe—it wouldn’t be practical unless there was hope of finding its right sibling.

Should I do that, roam the streets looking for the other shoe to drop, like magic, into my field of vision? No, that simply wouldn’t be practical. So in the end I just let the shoe drop back to roughly where I’d found it. And that’s why we can’t have nice things.

Peter Cherches’ latest book, Everything Happens to Me, is winner of the 2025 Next Generation Indie Book Award for Humor/Comedy.