PIECES OF ME

There is no air in this room,
but only pain dripping like 
tears from my soul. I begin 
to break, disintegrate into 
pieces, as I look at my dad,
amidst pain and suffering
going to the road leading 
him to his last refuge. I see 
pieces of me here and there, 
but can’t collect them. Grief 
erodes me, robs my voice, 
as I want to scream with all
my force in this room where
there’s no air, but only tears,
anguish, and much despair.


WHITE DOVE

Tell me, do you feel pain, dear Father,
on the narrow path, on the way that
leads you to nothing? I beg you, give 
it to me! I will shelter your pain in my 
chest, liberate you so that your soul 
will be free; it will fly away in the air
somewhere, like a lovely white dove.


TWO LEAVES

Our souls resemble two leaves suspended 
in the air; they tremble delicately when a
breeze blows; they approach and kiss one 
another; they avoid one another in a state 
of chaos.


Our sensitive, fragile, and frightened souls,
in this wild world that allows them no time
to breathe for a moment – they are so clear
limpid and transparent, sprinkled with dew.


IT’S A SIN TO CLOSE MY EYES 

It’s a sin to close my eyes this very day 
when lots of kisses the sun sends my way, 
from the window the breeze caresses me 
like an invisible and distant hand of love. 


No weeping saddens the limpid air, 
no clouds tear up the endless blue of sky; 
my complaint does not resemble a sob 
but a musical and melancholic sound. 


Bad weather with rains and lightning 
I’d prefer to accompany my departure. 
It’s a sin to fade away on a day like this: 
life smiles and revives in each particle. 

Irma Kurti is an Albanian poet, writer, lyricist, journalist, and translator and has been writing since she was a child. She is a naturalized Italian and lives in Bergamo, Italy. All her books are dedicated to the memory of her beloved parents, Hasan Kurti and Sherife Mezini, who have supported and encouraged every step of her literary path. Irma Kurti has won numerous literary prizes and awards in Italy and Italian Switzerland. She was awarded the Universum Donna International Prize IX Edition 2013 for Literature and received a lifetime nomination as an Ambassador of Peace by the University of Peace, Italian Switzerland. In 2020, she became the honorary president of WikiPoesia, the encyclopedia of poetry. She is a member of the jury for several literary competitions in Italy. She is also a translator for the Ithaca Foundation in Spain.

Irma Kurti has published 26 books in Albanian, 21 in Italian, 15 in English, and two in French. She has written approximately 150 lyrics for adults and children. She has also translated 16 books by different authors, and all of her own books into Italian and English. She is one of the most translated and published Albanian poets. Her books have been published in the United States, Canada, France, Italy, Romania, Turkey, Kosovo, the Philippines, Cameroon, India, Chile, and Serbia.

Thus sprach THE GENERAL-MANAGER today

Gesundheit.
Thanks all for joining in this quest to reach the bottom; now, the = THE GENERAL-MANAGER, in that cleverly hidden booth way back yonder, (Ho!)  ohfjnoiefjgnwes   woffjjweefiuvjweeuygvhwef  turned slightly away from the overcomplicated/overengineered control panel they’d cobbled-in front o’them for this, and took some sort of stock. 
Do not let the confuser come in with those doomed to confusion (riff riff riff .....etc entablin’condemned to never know what’s what in a tall Go! 
whomp oh, this one? This one’s part chow
b l e e d bled  - - whooosh okay. There.
Here. There. Here-therE, slow, slower slowest guh t’last. In-seated l’lone at the control panel. Yes. We-seated. Y’know, we could spin this chair atcha’ three quarters or so, to down-bore yo how we climbed up way here through what seem too too many years of; urinal hairs Gaahhhh in the narrow aisle out the door, bear left, with a great highly impassible green-tinted extra heavy chain-linker twa ha right, solid brick-krete rough painted from the gloss floor to way up out of sight, ih, ya. We can tell ya how. We can’r deliver more of that to this, since—noticing all rich details of a stroll out that place can’t be ‘cause there were none, e’see, we got brung up to poke at the into thee next required task. To do more than that, well—would dilute the effort. Resulting in such weak tea as we got served up to us here. But whatcha want, anyway? Too priced up eh? Whose payin’? You? You? Or you or you or you {ha} we do think not. {ha ha} no, and you see this is why we got climbed out so high over you’re not no (you’re way behind but don’t fret. The masters follow.) e’en there ‘cause see here? See here where we’ve just entered here? This is just one seat ‘cause at any one time especially up here there can be no but one o’ copy o’eee THE GENERAL-MANAGER. See why we’re sat here, and you poors just must stand? Stand and gape in tight awe, and heady worry, but keep back far. This is just a demonstration today. The real work needs a secret. But in both wise’s we be t’ muck-butter’d the the the the one ‘n ‘ly great big THE GENERAL-MANAGER. (note the scone plate if y’ want ‘m. And the Gunnar’s snouts {snipped ‘way so cleanly, and, leaving the deep-seed row intact for the growing out of one o’re ten others like +so economically feasible of a fast snip-snip-snip’n-snip, lop, catch, and serve}) may it pass quickly, stated the skinny yet finally all-powerful oh-so Turkish judge, so—there you go—see that?  Yes. Do see that. Don’t tell me—you failed to see that? Pity oh pity, pity ten times. That moment’s judge’s gone. No no no, there’s that’s only the body. That now back there you so carelessly missed is shooting off behind you, like, no,  we are sorry. That is simply impossible. Oh yes, a mistake it was, and—oh, yes, yes yes yes yes—everybody makes mistakes, but no, we are sorry. As THE GENERAL-MANAGER, we have to tell you the end is already here. Look down there und merchantman’s marine. Look down—so there’s a floor? So what? See past it or—or what? What’s that mean scone? Little hard cold scone, a’begging now you may so pitiably be, but you got to; whose rules? Hah. Rules are rules, and whose rules, well—that’s not even a proper question—b’ hey—ey there up the back row put ‘o sight you may all be, but in fact you are up there, and o’yes you may yes nod nod nod and you’re welcome, stand then, stand—don’t worry, that’s not as high as they look. Go cover. Now. Bone, we were told we were gathered for a look at the instrument panels. Bone, are those the instrument panels way out there (binocolars binoculars love the look of a sycophant behind tight-raised big black binoculars &gearhead& sprain shift +workers tussle workers shifting and tussling until + there it is behold the spoons of it—so, for purposes of this preliminary presentation, behold painted on those walls over there the (as stated) overcomplicated overengineered control panel they’d cobbled-in front o’them for this; all says what now? All says cut the long train in two sit down stop all the ruminating and take the controls we been stalling long enough imaging this and that truth to be self-evident ho ho ho and ‘fter thinking “louse” one more time, rule number one =  do not let the confuser come in with those doomed to confusion = two = BLINK do not let the confuser come in with those doomed  = three = BLINK do not let the confuser come in = BLINK o not let the conf = LIN not let = I let no I let no yes I did no you didn’t whew okay now that’s all melted away let’s get down to those brass-tacked down cold notices requiring the primary attention God loaded into this here today, as we said and did stated in the beginnng o’ today, hic hic (plaster), entablin’condemned to never know what’s what in a tall Go! Okay, so?
So.
Okay. So let’s git.
Thus sprach THE GENERAL-MANAGER today.
Ready then now, eh? Good. Please be seated.

Bookshelf

 

i.

Lady’s gallic unmentionable longing.

The death.

 

ii.

Bohemian Superman.

Malapert tunnel.

Superintelligent dessert.

 

iiii.

Living in Bosch

solutions no

codpiece.

 

iv.

Palimpsest of cats.

Chateau feet

horror.

 

v.

Selected God.

Alphabetical love.

 

vi.

Concrete geisha unearthing

lunch

on mars.

Marriage; The Way Out?

“I’ll never forgive my mother for leaving us alone at the hands of father. Because of a little misunderstanding with him, she left us when we needed her presence the most. Father is married to Agnes who hasn’t been fair to me ever since she came into our house. My step-brother, John Jnr., who is just 6 years of age, is being given the best of preferential treatments because he is Agnes’ only child. Yet, my younger ones can barely find three times daily. Ashley and Emma are not looking healthy because of my step-mom’s ill-treatment.

Wherever, you are, mother, you will know no peace. I won’t forgive you for the rest of my life; even in death. I am 12 now. In the next ten years, whether father or step-mother, likes it or not, I’m getting married to a man who is ten years older than me and must agree to what say. I have spoken”.  Words read from Stacy’s diary.

Stacy was born into a family of a well –to-do background in Oakland. Being the first in a family of four. Later, her younger sister died some years back after she was born. Special treatments were given to her especially by her father-being the first child and only surviving girl of the family-material and physical attention. Stacy came into the world through the consent of Sir John Newbury and Lady Flora Rice. She had two younger brothers, Ashley and Emma and her step-brother, John.

  Things seemed rosy until her parents started living a cat and dog lifestyle due to impending challenges the family faced at that time. Subsequently, Lady Flora, as she was fondly called, decided on what she saw as being normal –leaving her husband to take custody of the children. Although Sir John played a dual responsibility; generally seeing to the finances of his household and physical and mental wellbeing of his children, he was faced with an uphill task of balancing home affairs and his busy working schedule. 

As a result, he felt the need of having mistress who later became his second wife- Agnes-a.k.a The Commoner. She bore him only a child, John Jnr., but was busy maltreating Stacy and her younger siblings. Personally, you could imagine a girl not growing under the “watchful eyes “of her mother. 

   Stacy had to endure the storms of life and painstaking to cater for the needs of her younger ones. Her predicament was so unbearable that she decided to take on menial jobs to make ends meet. As Stacy grew up under inauspicious conditions to an adult, though very beautiful and one most sought after ladies in her locality, she, without the proper guidance of a good counsellor and her mother, felt that marriage would be the way out of her pathetic state. 

Fortunately for her, she agreed to a marriage proposal made by a dashing you gentleman, Anthony, ten years older, on the condition that he must take care of her younger ones. What a naivety- influenced decision! 

“Before I get married to you, Anthony, you must satisfy two conditions… you must agree that you won’t marry another wife and ensure that my brothers Ashley and Emma are taken care of under your roof until they are mature to live on their own.” 

“Yes, I will. In fact, consider it all done!”Anthony couldn’t wait to have her as a wife. 

Stacy went to her father and told him whom she had met and her subsequent intent to marry him.  Sir John asked that Stacy send for Anthony who was leaving nine houses away from his.
Three hours after her father met with Anthony, he, in the presence of Ashley and his elder brother, Emma, related his observation to Stacy: “My dearest daughter, I know that you really want to get married on time because of how you grew up without your mother. However, based on what I observed in the course of our conversation, I will strongly advise that you don’t marry him-he has no future for himself, his children and even you. Look at me, your father; no academic qualification, a labelled stark illiterate and a menial job worker. Yet, I have in possession houses and other investments in Brisbane, Adelaide and Sydney. Don’t mind what your mom did. If she was here, she would have said the same thing”.

“No father, replied angry Stacy, ‘my mind is made up…I must marry Anthony, whether you like it or not. He’s my choice. That’s whom I’ll marry, period!”

“Father is right. He really has no future for you. Look at his habits…he smokes, drinks and womanizes. Yet, you’ve made up your mind to marry him”, said Emma who was present when his father made his observations known to Stacy. 

“As for me, Stacy had made up her mind in spending the rest of her life with. Let’s her go ahead and on our part, wish her the best. I’m pretty tired of being ill-treated by your so-called wife.  I can’t wait to move in with my big sister!” said Ashley, who had been in support of Stacy marrying Anthony to his Dad.

“In time, you, father and Emma will understand the very reason I chose to marry Anthony. Though he smokes, drinks and womanizes, I believe he has a future ahead of him. Come to think of it, are you all perfect? I know, with God, he will change for the better! It’s quite unfortunate that Ashley, the baby of the house, understands me better than all of you. It happens, sometimes!”Responded Stacy to her father, Emma and Ashley. 

She eventually got married to him without proper mastery of what it means to stay married and of what the true foundation of marriage is. Now, she is married for nearly thirty years but living under the shadow of regrets.

+



Drink my water 

I borrowed your lake 
    just last week 

        fair is fair 

I came happy and I can 
           leave happy 

Still my lake,  would you, 
      I want the stillness 
to raise our Hearts 
      friends & children 
                  Art & Sky
      So walking away will not 
tear me away from Love itself 

I can see myself in
      Your reflections 

thinks    I'm gone 
           Knows the lonely heart 

   Find me in the overview 
where hilltops Grace the Land 
      ,as the wolf calls, 
            My World Lives!

A gust taunts Lake's mirror 
 to scatter the curious fish 
                   as one took Air. 

      Steal the moment 
          found content 
              Soothed 

One  cannot  Steal  a  Gift 
 Rested,  on dimension's rift

The world Begins 
  alive 

Forgive my Stars 
    the Space they take 
We'll share a Sun
     to Warm Our Lake 
                                                           
                                                          ...........


by  John Edward Culp 
    January 26, 2019
                 

Parents are such people that no one in the world can take their place. The only people who always believe us and  always support us are our parents. If we hurt a little, they will hurt a lot and they long for our success. They are most necessary and sacred people in our lives. They take care of us and remove any obstacle in our way, saying ” My child should not be hurt.” They can’t bear it when we cry. They will be the heroes who are ready to give their lives for us. They always try to make us live well in this life.  If we have any problems, they solve them at first. Parents are the meaning of our life. Life will never be meaningful without them. They will be the only people who will love us until the end of the our lives.

         The most important, dearest and holiest people in this life are my parents. Dad ! Mom ! For me, they are the greatest blessings in my life. They are my greatest gift from God. They are the most wonderful parents in the world for me. My heroes, who are always by my side and always believe me are my parents. I always promise to be a worthy child and justify your trust! Thank you for everything dad and mom!

Mekhrangiz Kibriyeva.

MEKHRANGIZ KIBRIYEVA OLIMJONOVNA was born 1 January , 2006 year in Sariasia district Surkhandarya region in Uzbekistan.

Industrial Revolution


Hey Mac, (this from the fridge, a Westinghouse,

As I walked past), in some forgotten life,

A stinking greenish scum is all you were,

But I, a diamond, Hope’s the name I bore,

That’s bullcrap, I replied, and grabbed a beer,

The Hope exists; mere rust and clay you were,

That ain’t the way this works, it snapped, acer-

Bically, full anything you could become:


A frog, some smog, a piece of crispy toast,

For me, more like, an eagle soaring high

Above a cowering rabbit you, my lunch,

You’re destined to be scrapped, you hunk of tin,

I snarled; just then my wife exclaimed, Oh God!

You’re off your freaking meds again? Get help!