A Simple Girl
One day, a girl was born.
She was an ordinary person.
Like everyone else.
Years passed.
She grew up.
She was lost in her dreams.
She said, “I can’t do anything.
I can’t do anything.
I’m not good at anything.
I’m on the screen.
I’m famous.
I want to be.
But how can I do it?
I don’t have any knowledge.
I’m not even good-looking.
I can’t do it.
My parents aren’t rich.
” My father may be dead
My mother is sick
And I am injured
Crying and sobbing
She walked
One day in the newspaper
She read a sentence:
“ACT DON’T GIVE UP
IF IT’S DONE TO YOU
THIS JOB SHOULD BE YOURS”
The girl was inspired by this
A feeling that she could succeed
Woke up in her
Despite her age, she kept studying
Even if her peers
Even if they gossiped
The neighborhood
Even if her father
Stood up and stood up
She kept studying without paying attention
She learned a language
Wrote poems
For the first time
The poem she published

The people liked
She had many professions
She had
Many professions
The guy who humiliated her yesterday
Today asked for help came
I’m sorry
He begged the girl
Many
Rich men
Standing for her
Yesterday I’m not beautiful
The girl who said I can’t do it
Today was completely different
YOU CAN DO IT TO
TAKE ACTION
SHOW TO THOSE WHO SAY YOU CAN’T DO IT.!!!

Fazilat Khudoyberdiyeva. Born on September 2, 2013. She is in the 6th grade of secondary school No. 6 in Kokdala district, Kashkadarya region, Republic of Uzbekistan. She is interested in English, chemistry, and biology. Her hobbies are drawing, dancing, and singing.

The real heroes of today

The real heroes of today are our enlightened Jadids. Jadids are people who fought for the development of Turkic languages, the enrichment of literature in these languages, and the equal rights of women and men in society. Therefore, their role today is incomparable. Jadids called on people to unite, learn, and love spirituality and art.

The Jadid movement arose in the second half of the 19th century on the basis of the principles of enlightenment. Jadidism was first founded by the Crimean Tatar enlightener Ismail Gaspirali. The founder and father of the first Jadidism in Central Asia is Mahmudkhodja Behbudi.

Jadidism representatives in Tashkent: Mubavvarqori Abdurashidkhanov, Abdulla Qodiriy, Abdulla Avloniylar

Jadidism representatives in Bukhara: G’ulom Zafariy, Abdurauf Fitrat, Fayzulla Khojayevs

Jadidism representatives in Andijan: Abdulhamid Cholpon, Usmonkhodja Pulatov and Sodiqjon Karimovs are listed.

During the Soviet period, due to the literature written by our Jadids, they were described as a “nationalist movement” and “bourgeois liberal”. After the USSR, our Jadids’ name was justified.

Jadidism representatives often called themselves progressives, and later Jadids.

Progressive forces thinking about the nation were present in almost all classes of the people – farmers, merchants, shepherds, artisans. Our Jadids fight for the independence of Turkestan.Jadids are devotees who sacrificed their lives for the future of the nation. They awakened thinking, lived for the future, and instilled love for the homeland in the hearts of people. Our enlighteners awakened the nation through science and modern knowledge.                                                                                     

Hilola Khudoyberdiyeva. Born on May 19, 2012. A student of grade 7-A at the Specialized School in Kukdala district, Kashkadarya region, Republic of Uzbekistan. She is interested in history, English, her native language and literature. Her hobbies are mainly reading books and learning languages.

——————————————————————————

up from the floor

i wanna leave

most of my

memories

in the ocean,

somewhere away

from the plastic

in tedious moments,

i bite my nails and

wonder why i didn’t

die when i was young

this woman swears

she loves me

won’t give me her

address or any hope

that this is something

more than real

we’ll probably be

married in a year

why does all the

crazy shit with death

happen in minnesota

you try helping your

disabled mother up

from the floor with

a bad back

these are the nights

drugs were invented

for

piss stained pants

in the wash

a night nurse telling

war stories in the

living room

scribbling madness

on paper is child’s

play

—————————————————-

the latest year of death

a few snowflakes

in the cold sunshine

the last few days of

the latest year of death

can masturbation cause

carpal tunnel

four out of five dentists

agree

of course, some beautiful

woman wants to save you

as long as you are willing

to become the man she

changes you into

why resist, where has this

perfect creature got you

still think toiling away

in obscurity is noble,

makes you cool or

something even better

not often someone brags

about being a better piece

of shit

sure, there may be gold

in that turd but no one

ever wants to give it

a taste

rejoice, the end is near

a new beginning if you

truly want it to be

but that is just some

mumbo jumbo out of

some self help book

written long before you

were a stain in the sheets

———————————————-

die alone

pretend we are

the only souls

left

your soft skin

resting on what

is left of me

seventeen years

is one hell of

a gap

but you brighten

this darkness

let me know

that the light

isn’t always

a train

one day it will

be your chance

to prove to the

world you were

always what i

was missing

it’s not a test

but a plea for

help

not that i’m

afraid to die

alone

just don’t

want to

that subtle difference

doesn’t mean shit to

many, but hopefully

just enough to whom

it is meant for

——————————————————–

i mumbled something

a strapless neon dress

and all the reasons i

never liked going to

strip clubs

sitting at the bar,

just drinking

the bartender asked

what i was looking

for tonight

i mumbled something

i’ll never find here

she realized it was

a lost cause

never got a lap dance

though i did buy my

buddy one

he liked this smoking

hot black chick and i

never minded someone

else having a good time

looking back on it

i still can’t figure out

how these twenty plus

years have flown by

so damn fast

the tornado hit that

strip club years ago

i suppose they had

different dancers

by then

——————————————————

nothing but sunday drivers

an uncomfortable

silence in the rain

a two lane road

in the sticks

of course, nothing

but sunday drivers

on a thursday

afternoon

it’s a lonely glass

of scotch and the

memory of an old

lover that died

years ago

your life has become

the lyrics of the songs

you grew up on

too bad the songs

about death are the

only ones you can

remember all the

lyrics to

the subtle embrace

of your last hope

she has no clue to

the misery she has

stepped into

and while that baggage

will never be hers to

deal with

she will gladly accept

the challenge

accept what little

faith is still left

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is trapped in suburbia, sadly accepting his fate. He’s been widely published over the last 30 years, most recently at Night Owl Narrative, Disturb the Universe Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, Crossroads Magazine and The Rye Whiskey Review. His latest book, to live your dreams, has been published by Whiskey City Press and is available on Amazon.com (please buy a copy or two). He still has his blog, although taking care of his disabled mother takes up the majority of his time. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

x3

Nostalgia sets in, & I lose my

teeth. More benefit than hind-

erance — stops me chewing

over un temps perdu that has 

little to make it worth revisiting.

Nostalgia sets in, & I lose my

internet connection. Maybe I

shouldn’t be piggybacking into

the ether on my neighbor’s wifi.

Nostalgia sets in, & I lose my

canteloupes. Not immediately;

but before the melon harvest 

can get underway, gargoyles 

that have torn themselves away

from cathedral roofs flock down

to feast, leave nothing behind.

Random / noises from / the vowel house

According to onlookers, I’d

dodged a bullet. But I’ve been

deep into word puzzles of

late, & couldn’t let that pass

by without questioning how it

parsed. “Do you mean I may

have dodged a ballet since I

didn’t go into the city with my

partner last night? Or maybe

didn’t spend that same time

watching a belly dancer or that

comedian who provokes belly

laughs in his audience? Or,

more precisely, perhaps no 

one offered me a glass of Bellet 

wine or took me for a drive in 

their old Isuzu Bellet? Then 

again, nobody offered me an

overnight billet, or gazed at me 

& sent me billets-doux, or in-

vited me to go & see that 

French pop group that’s app-

arently quite popular these 

days.  Have I left anything 

out?” I get blank looks, so re-

mind them that bollets are

another word for a type of

mushroom, & that it’s now

dinner time, & I’ve prattled on

for so long they’re probably

wishing that the projectile had

hit the mark & stopped me 

carrying on like a bull at a gate.

XXL Largo

(A Tom Beckett Title)

Now that the wet season

has arrived, I go surfing

before I go surfing, hoping

to find some johnnie O 

swim shorts in an extra

extra large size which also

have some length to them.

eBay offers me a pair for $89,

described as having a Conch 

Floral design, lined, & with 

a drawstring. The Adidas 

equivalent at Amazon also 

has a drawstring, is in a Rip-

stop 100% recycled polyester 

but is currently out of stock. 

In the same breath — or at

least on the same page — Ali-

baba.com, under the sub-cat-

gories of Sex Toys / Dildos,

has a Ready to Ship Big XXL 

Largo Penis Enlargement 

Cream with a 2-year shelf 

life. Sterilization, cleaning, & 

a free sample are included. They

say they support private labels

& can manufacture to a custom-

er’s own design (OEM) or relabel

Alibaba products (ODM). It

also is currently unavailable.

Still surfing, I find I can buy a 

Ralph Lauren Polo sweater — 

Talle XXL, Largo 80cm, Ancho 

70cm — for a mere $33,000; or,

at the other end of the scale, an 

XXL long custom “stromboli” 

mousepad with a list price of 

€44.00. If that was what the

sweater cost I might be inter-

ested; but most everything I’ve

seen so far seems to have little

to do with surfing, or is out of

stock, or is way too expensive.

Time to stop; so a last entering

of the search term. I goof, leave

off the size’s L, so, when I enter,

Chopin & YouTube are every-

where. 24 Preludes, Op. 28: XX. 

No. 20 in C Minor (Largo). It’s a

nice piece, so I sit back & enjoy.

escalator elephants

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Arrests as apple crumble, custard thrown at UK crown jewels.

Anger as National Parks grant free access on Trump’s birthday — & end it for MLK day.
NATO state to declare state of emergency next week, Lithuanian PM says.

Late to the Second Coming

Irreverential, blasphemous

silence;

profane void, 

absence of Presence.

Shallow, knee-shaped

dimples, slowly

disappearing from the

hassock before coagulating wine.

Sanctuary air,

not stale; 

trace symphony of

pheromonic Bachian notes.

Wafer white

quartered-halves;

bread of life crumbs

trailing the Way?

Multi-hued tendrils

caressing the 

onion-thin parchment;

celestially highlighting

1 Thessalonians 4:17.

Stole-draped,

cross-adorned

pulpit.

“Eli, Eli

lama sabachthani.”

The nighttime thief 

has come;

revelation dawns…

A fool in want of oil.

In Your Eyes

Different colors of red I paint on your lips with mine

and one soul has always been shared between us

You have walked every step with me in this life

And we will continue together through eternity

No other hand will ever touch my skin

And no other heart will ever beat with mine

In your eyes I’ve seen the glow of the moon at night

and the beauty of the golden sun at dawn

There has never been anyone who can compare

to the heart which holds all the love within me.

Look upon me as you always have…

Like a thief waiting to steal a precious treasure from within me.

Long Ago I Wrote a Love Poem

Long Ago, I wrote a love poem

that filled the pages of my heart

I never said who I was writing it for

I don’t think I even knew at first

Then I found that something was missing

with each love poem I tried to write

Every poem I had written with you came easily

but without your lines, they felt incomplete

I watched others try to finish your poems

I never spoke a word of discouragement

But in my heart I knew the reason

and now, I think you do too

No one can finish your poem but me

because we write as one person together

And the same goes for my poems without you.

A bond that has always baffled us both

now makes perfect sense… 

Our Colorful Dream 

I have had more intimate conversations with you

looking into your eyes in silence than speaking.

Life was so empty until you appeared one day

as a result of a prayer I prayed in sadness.

You now bring the sun into my once dark life

and have transformed my hues from black to gold.

You became the knight in my once woeful tale

and I long to stay the beautiful dream in your realm.

I have watched our love grow so strong over time

that no evil could ever penetrate our colorful dream. 

You are the love story who became my reality.

Kristy Ann Raines is an American poet and author born in Oakland California, in the United States of America. She is an accomplished Global Poet and Writer who has written and published three books.

* “The Passion Within”, by Kristy Raines

* “I Cross my Heart from East to West”, by Kristy Raines and Dr. Prasana Kumar Dalai

* “Echoes Across the Oceans”, by Kristy Raines and Nasser Alshaikhahmed

Kristy is right now writing a few children’s books, which will be released sometime this year.