Mixed media from Daniel De Culla



Wow! Now we are ready and understanding of the Globe
Because People has the brain in the Ass
Saying: “That the blame for climate change
Ozone layers and other atmospheric niceties
As well as the pollution of the town or the city
It’s coming from the flatulences of the cows

Shortening the distance that in space or time
Separates them from the point where the speaker is
As in that sentence that sings:
“Between two ferocious stones comes a man shouting”.

The cow breaks air hole; John also.
It is coming the Easter of the Ass
Doing better and worse times fart.
Could it be that we do not realize
That the climatic changes of the time of Life
Comes from the Senate and Congresses
And the plenary sessions of City Councils
And Permanent Commissions?

The asses of politicians, of them and of them
Are coming here, there, there, seat.
What a smell of male farts
And the corrupted blood of Cunt
On the benches of its lordships
Trump’s Ass, for example
Going from the White House
To spend a few days in Venezuela
Or the Pope accompanying his ass to any place

And the submissive people say blessing the fart:
-Come with me. Do you want to come to the holy fart?
For world, coming a dress of flatulences is true.
Already, as children
We were taught in the sacred religión:
Kid Jesus came alive between straws
Being cradled in the Bethlehem portal
By the farts of the Ox
And the braying of the sacred She Ass.

That’s how he had to accept for good a Pope Benedict ¡
In Vallelado, a town in Segovia de Castilla, too, for example
“Where neighbors have an ear on each side”
How his heraldic shield sings
There was a Mayor, from another time
Who said at the beginning of a Plenary:
“There are five leagues of windy weather from here to the town.
The field must have two hundred cows and one hundred sheep.
Spinning of farts or farts are made from time to time
In the channels to serve as a signal to those who pass.

And I say, to the facts I refer:

That the flatulences of the cows have
Salient little vessels
And branched on its flat surface
That it is a pure Truth
As it confirms to us, again and again
World Health Organization
That affirms, urbi et orbi
That the condition of superiority
From one person over another
From one animal to another
It comes given by the wind blow of the tail of the cows
With equals the conditions of Life
Its coming and its departure.

In many cultures people adored and adore the Cow
And that because every one of our gathered good luck
Form the shell of an egg or fruit
That implies or offers advantages coming in desire
That is why we must open windows in the walls or walls
Put open doors to the field, fields or meadows
And make window to the ass of the beautiful cows
That, at sunset, are
As colored glass of the churches.

-Daniel de Culla

Poetry from Indunil Madhusankha

Indunil Madhusankha is currently a Lecturer in the Department of Decision Sciences at the Faculty of Business of the University of Moratuwa. Even though he is academically involved with the subjects of Mathematics and Statistics, he also pursues a successful career in the field of English language and literature as a budding young researcher, reviewer, poet and content writer. Basically, he explores the miscellaneous complications of the human existence through his poetry by focusing on the burning issues in the contemporary society. Moreover, Indunil’s works have been featured in many international anthologies, magazines and journals.

Waiting for that Beautiful Day to Dawn 

(Previously published in the Tuck Magazine on 12th October 2015)


Do you ever reminisce?

The endearing times we spent together

sitting on a bench in the park

amidst the towering trees

replete with yellowish jacaranda cascading down

Or how we drew figures on the sand

with the tips of our fingers

while wandering along the sea belt


You promised me

caressing my hands

that you would never let go of them

And, one day, you would clasp my arm

and walk with me to the farthest horizon

Thus we dreamt of the dawn of a beautiful day


Yet, it didn’t take that long for you

to fade from my sight

Along with those sketches on the sand

melting away in the harsh waves

that abruptly broke on the shore


And I have no idea,

how incorrigible my heart is

The harder I try to refrain from lingering

The more I find myself immersed

Despite the awareness of the bitter truth,

I keep praying again and again

waiting for that beautiful day to dawn


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Essay from Doug Hawley


The following scroll was found buried in the Tel Egot on the present day border of Israel and Syria December 15, 2018.  Because of the dangerous border little archaeology had been done in the area.  The language used is a cross between the Semitic Hebrew and Aramaic languages.  From other sources we can infer that this was an arid area mostly populated by shepherds and vintners.  Despite the frequent wars in the general area, there are few signs of battles in the land of the Eleni.

Due to the similarity to the Israelis society and structure, there is a suggestion that the Eleni may be another tribe of Hebrews, not acknowledged in Biblical sources either because they were expelled from Israel, or left voluntarily.  They may have been Hebrews who did not migrate to Egypt and therefore have no knowledge of Moses and the Penteteuch.  There are enough religious differences to indicate that their national god was not merely a copy of Y*w*h, but their practice of omitting the vowels is similar.  Some see the Eleni as an Amarian people who copied some things from Israel.

There were many national gods in the early middle east.  The scrolls give us a look at one that is vastly different than that of the Hebrews.  We wonder what we could learn from the other nation gods of Israel’s small neighbors.  For most of them, we only have reports from Biblical sources.  We can’t help but wonder how history would have changed if the Eleni and their concept of a universal, pacificstic God had surivived and spread.

The annotations are based on collateral history and fragmentary scrolls from the same dig.

Professor Marcus Jacobs and the Oriental Institute of the University Of Chicago July, 18, 2020


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Poetry from Dipe Jolaade


Steady afternoon of brown lights. A

boy dicing dusty sheets into his fragile

mouth. The teacher’s room in tumour.

Flayed papers flying around.


It is a classroom. The seats look creak

enough to break the silence of the day.

The atmosphere so blue we planted & bred

flowers inside our throat.


Two bodies bridging the

bond between breaths. Your Lanky

hands on a child so dear. It was a first

time i breathed as one with you.


We found our way into deeper lands –

wet and drippy – through tunnels. An

unending tickling amidst short cackles

and silent whispers.


Steady afternoon of brown lights. A

boy dicing dusty sheets into his fragile

mouth. The teacher’s room in tumour.

Flayed papers flying around.


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Poetry from Henry Bladon

The Pain Remains



Cristina’s a weirdo, they would say.

She’s fat and stupid and a schizo.


Then there was this;

set in stone.


Names never hurt you?

They so do.


So, when you are

throwing poisonous darts

from the other side,


think about this:

the pain remains.

Poetry from J.J. Campbell

Author J.J. Campbell

Author J.J. Campbell

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) was raised by wolves yet managed to graduate high school with honors. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Misfit Magazine, The Rye Whiskey Review, Live Nude Poems, Yellow Mama and Horror Sleaze Trash. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)
ash wednesday
i guess
if you
to kill
is a good
day to
with that
on their
head and
the devastation left behind
drove through the
old neighborhood
yesterday and all
the devastation
left behind by
the memorial
day tornado
a few hours later
i heard the mayor
tell the media the
cleanup was all
over and it’s time
to start to rebuild
i laughed and
exactly why i
moved away
that disconnect
from reality by
all the elected
the medical records
i remember when
they decided to
make all the medical
records electronic
and here i am, over
a decade later, filling
out sheets and sheets
of info
just imagining all the
trees that died for this
meaningless bullshit
progress is always
as long as you really
fucking want it
at the dump
they found a guy
in the trash at the
dump still alive
i could just imagine
that being one hell
of a way to wake up
from a little nap in
a dumpster
two days
two earthquakes
the biggest felt
in twenty years
pretty soon the
much feared big
one will be upon
i’m waiting for
most of the state
to break off into
the ocean
just like the
have always
dreamt about
J.J. Campbell
51 Urban Ln.
Brookville, OH 45309-9277

Poetry from Mahbub

Mahbub, a Bangladeshi author and English teacher

The Faces I Stand Before

The faces I stand before flows on the river
Like the birds flying always spreading the wings of time
I stand before the golden faces
A glow on the morning sun
I stare at and enjoy the sweet scents
Morning buds to get fully bloomed till the noon
I again and again find the star light of heaven
How can I describe my feelings I don’t know the language
My heart overflows with joy and glory
The innocent, loving and soothing to eyes
Anyone can get lost in sweet dreams
I dream in my sleep throughout the whole night
There is no touch of stigma in the face or smile
The waves of the river splash water to everybody
We can bathe and make our mind tension free
They are our asset, our future generation
Build the nation and the world
Where there will have no claim of corruption and tyranny
I always find myself in this mind blowing garden
Whose name is Class Room.



It was fire flying in the air
A boy of ten standing beside
Unmindful wandering here and there
By the side of a bush with much curiosity
It was night waiting for the train
His grandfather was always beside him
Suddenly his eyes blazed
A light flying in the air he never found before
What a nice fire!
He advanced and wanted to catch
But again got afraid if he is burned
Like a star glittering the land
So fascinating charms the heart and eyes
A man walking along suddenly uttered
It’s a firefly. He heard the name before but now realized
How wonderful the light!
Glows in the darkness of the night
Today after many years
The sight reflects in my eyes too much to be bright.


In The Dark and Light

Clouds are swirling in the sky
All seem to be dark and gloomy
I am on my sleeping bed
My eyes are closed
All transferred to the other
I woke up and it was raining
The cloud dispersed the rain stopped
The sun reflected on my face peeping and laughing
What a wonder! I live sometimes here sometimes I die
Sometimes I flow on water sometimes I fly
Sometimes I fall down in the mirage
Clouds are whirling in the sky
It started raining
After sound sleep with sweet dream
It seemed all rosy and green, fresh and clean
The sky filled with the rainbow screen.


My Loving Rose

From my childhood I got my sense
Permeated among surrounding stars of the night
A light of joy played of my face
I was maddened with the scent
Early in the morning from my rose tree
Just beside the window
The rose breeze entered at the morning glow
In the early of the day so fascinating I moved on
I didn’t know the scented value, the time passed from me
It was the beginning of the day, a dewy rose just before me
I looked and looked and found myself in it
Nourishing the rose in my heart, I stood before you
It was a red rose I handed over
From then you spread the sight always jolly and enchanting
The rose played on me in my childhood.


The world is getting too much
Day by day it’s going to be so nervous
Bushes and forests are replaced by new buildings and highways
Today where we see the no man’s land
Tomorrow must be covered with hundred and thousand of hands and feet
Today where we see the cultivating land
And open fields the animals grazing
The living insects surrounded with shrubs and trees
Must be planned for tomorrow’s new civilization
It throws away the love that was a bond once for all
Suddenly snatched away from one to the other
Frequently break the heart of our beloveds and lovers
Though we talk much of our promise
True love is suffocating in the new colored buildings
In every blink of eyes
Cause deaths and sufferings.

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh