ZAPOMNIANY OBSYDIAN

Możemy zrezygnować
z mięsa.

Wtedy wyciekną płyny. 

Mięso zrezygnuje
z nas

Forgotten Obsidian

We have to give up

meat.

Then our bodily fluids will leak.

And our meat will give up

on us.

CIEPŁA KREW

Ciepła 
krew

uśmierca

zew 
krwi.

Warm-Blooded

Warm 

blood

kills 

for 

blood. 

MAHAJANA

Psy smakują lepiej 
od mahajany, 
dlatego bez sensu 
byłoby utrwalanie 
w sobie uporczywych, 
niskobiałkowych 

myśli zakonnych. 

A sierść i tak ściągnie 
z podłogi nasza filipińska 
służąca, żywiąca się 
promieniami słońca, 
deszczówką 
i zaklęciami trupów.

Mahāyāna Buddhism

Dog tastes better 

than the flesh of Buddhists;

therefore, it would make no sense

to nourish oneself with persistent,

yet low-protein monastic thoughts.

Besides, our servant will remove

the fur that thrives on the sunshine,

rainwater, and curses of the dead

anyways. 

ROZSĄDEK

Zabawa empatycznych ciał miękkich 
wchodzących głęboko/płytko w inne 
ciała miękkie, półmiękkie, 
zapowietrzone? 
Coś odgryzło mu palce. 

Ale to nie są moje utraty płynów. 
Ja posiadam nadal metalową 
protezę. 
Życie prywatne! 
Tylko życie prywatne się liczy…

Common Sense

Does playing empathetically with soft flesh—

pushing, pulsing deep then shallow

into soft and semi-soft flesh—

allow in air?

Something bit off my fingers.

But I haven’t lost a thing.

I still have a metal prosthetic

instead. This is my private life!

Only ones’ private life

truly matters. 

Dreams in the Sleep

I dream a sweet dream

In my sleep

I sometimes walk in the garden with

The blooming flowers and green leaves

I sometimes swim and dream

Sometimes downfalling from the sky

I fly and cry, stop breathing

I  dream and move with the hinge

Life opens, life encircled

Life inhales all the beauty of light and darkness

Life fathoms what it never experienced before

Sometimes my mother would come to me

And blew a puff on my face in my childhood so that

I could get over the fearfulness

Oh dream you come so sweet

I smile on the face you stand in front of me.

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh

10 February, 2025.

Md. Mahbubul Alam is from Bangladesh. His writer name is Mahbub John in Bangladesh. He is a Senior Teacher (English) of Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh. Chapainawabganj is a district town of Bangladesh. He is an MA in English Literature from Rajshahi College under National University. He has published three books of poems in Bangla. He writes mainly poems but other branches of literature such as prose, article, essay etc. also have been published in national and local newspapers, magazines, little magazines. He has achieved three times the Best Teacher Certificate and Crest in National Education Week in the District Wise Competition in Chapainawabganj District. He has gained many literary awards from home and abroad. His English writings have been published in Synchronized Chaos for seven years.

Thanks to Erkin Vahidov

Owner of embroidered naves, 

Talks about humility. 

A slanderous scumbag,

In poems, he looks at the Motherland. 

A raven’s wing to the darkness, 

He is like a peach. 

A beautiful leaf of willows, 

He is like art. 

When hope fades in war, 

The Uzbegim nyomi was published.

Even the speechless nightingale, 

He used to say country and country.

Honorable Mr. Uzbek,

It is worth thousands of applause. 

Once upon a time,

It will turn into a bird, a bird! 

Nilufar Anvarova, 8th grade student of Erkin Vahidov creative school, Margylan city

Visa Office

He’s in Colombo

Trying to renew

His tourist visa

One more time

He knows

What comes next

And there’s nothing

He can do to stop it

He’s the main character

In the novel 

That Saramago

Was unable to write.

Taylor Dibbert is a writer, journalist, and poet in Washington, DC. He’s author of, most recently, the poetry collection “Takoma.”

Recalling the smell of laughter

A faint scent lingers in the creases of my palms when you leave

Something like young coconut and the tinge of oily sweat just

Dripping down the tips of thick brows. It smells like eyes just grazing

Over each other before falling down to worn miss-matched socks

Before the smell is rubbed off by dish soap, hot water,

And porcelain scrubbing off the day’s light caresses, 

I anoint myself in it, blessing my filtrum with remnants of 

Your heaving laughter, how the exhaustion of your lungs

Caused you to sweat, those bits of your joyousness engraving 

Themselves in the fortuned lines of my palms when I held your

Face earlier in the evening. I mirror my hands into my face hoping 

The smell might stay: not in my hands but in my recollections 

So when I forget what we laughed so heavily at, I will remember

We laughed. I will remember the sloppy whiff of your coconut Vaseline

Far before I remember any joke we’ve made, 

because nothing has stained my memory quite like your smell before.

Whisper of Anarchy of Revenge 

I’m not afraid to go over your head

Cause I’m better off dead 

Than with you in my bed 

I’m not afraid to tell them the truth 

Let my feelings loose

Have them end your abuse 

I’m gonna let them know what you’ve done. 

I’m not afraid to tell the world 

That I was your golden girl 

With my hair so neat and curled 

I’m not afraid to end your life

Go on never being your wife

I won’t do it with a knife 

No, you’ll be goin’ to jail tonight

And while I was your bride in white

I hope you have a safe flight 

I’m gonna let them know what you’ve done. 

The best revenge is getting back

Repeating back their same attacks

It isn’t wrong to stab your back 

When it’s a backbone that you lack

Now we’re getting back on track 

You’re having a heart attack 

I’m not afraid to testify 

Even long after you’ve died 

And when the wind blows late at night 

I’m surrounded by flames of candle light 

I remember when you said you might 

Fake your death and start a new life 

I’m not afraid

No, I’m not afraid

I’m not afraid 

I’m always afraid.

Abeera Mirza

Internationally Acclaimed Poet

Born on January 16, 2001, in Sargodha, Pakistan, Abeera Mirza is a distinguished voice in contemporary poetry. A gold medalist and graduate of the University of Lahore, Pakistan, Abeera belongs to the illustrious Mughal Empire and currently resides in Gujrat.

As an Assistant Professor of English Literature at Queen College, Gujrat, Abeera’s passion for words has earned her numerous accolades. Her poignant poem “Sorry” has inspired readers worldwide to heal. With contributions to over 200 anthologies and international magazines, including Raven Cage (Germany), Barcelona Magazine (Spain), and International Literature Language Journal (USA), Abeera’s work has transcended borders.

Her poetry has been translated into multiple languages, including Spanish, Italian, Arabic, German, and more, reaching a global audience. Her words have been published in numerous countries, including:

– USA: Spillword, AllPoetry

– Italy: Alessandra, Orfeu, Verseum, Poetrydream

– Europe: European Poetry

– US: Synchronized Chaos

– Bangladesh: Fatehpur Resolution Blogspot, Puspaprovat

– India: The Cultural Reverence, Skillfulminds, Poetic Essence Publications 

– Indonesia: Hetipena

– Kenya: Mount Kenya Times Newspaper

– Greece: Polisfreepress

– Korea: Literary Newspaper

Abeera has received titles like Miss Literary Critic from the University of Lahore, Pakistan. As a jury member for Maverick Writing Community, India, Abeera nurtures emerging writers, fostering a love for literature. Her inner peace is fueled by reading and traveling.

With her unique voice and perspective, Abeera continues to inspire audiences worldwide, solidifying her position as a prominent poet of her generation.

Whirlwind of ideas

Confusing memories blow,

foreign assumptions crash

in the belly of the heart…

I created the strongest armor.

Since I was a child I sensed it, just that…

I sensed what those voices accompanied by hurtful faces

said what they imagined…

And so I grew up, strong and lonely.

Able to face any situation…

They never thought that they did not hurt me,

but that they made me grow totally independent

and with a unique strength

that no one will ever have…

Mirta Liliana Ramírez has been a poet and writer since she was 12 years old. She has been a Cultural Manager for more than 35 years. Creator and Director of the Groups of Writers and Artists: Together for the Letters, Artescritores, MultiArt, JPL world youth, Together for the letters Uzbekistan 1 and 2. She firmly defends that culture is the key to unite all the countries of the world. She works only with his own, free and integrating projects at a world cultural level. She has created the Cultural Movement with Rastrillaje Cultural and Forming the New Cultural Belts at the local level and also from Argentina to the world.