Poetry from Christina Chin and Paul Callus

at the perfumery

the vibrant fragrance

of freshly peeled tangerine

          my first time 

          dealing cards

Paul Callus (Malta) / Christina Chin (Malaysia) 

– – – – – – – – – – –

the busy 

holiday streets

lovely afternoon

          hawkers experience

          a sales bonanza

Christina Chin (Malaysia) / Paul Callus (Malta)

– – – – – – – – – – –

snow butterfly 

clings to the leaf  

beautiful spring

          speckled wings

          on a buddleia bush

Christina Chin (Malaysia) / Paul Callus (Malta)


Poetry from Rp Verlaine

Fixing Cars

These callow young men who work under cars

all summer with eyes on the girls passing by

billboards of flesh, attired as if to please.

Wanderings of flesh, whose pale youth beckons

to tease and torment, their pleasure as if

just an image and perfume is enough.

For  callow young men who work under cars

their white t shirts stained with copious sweat

cool mirror shades reflect metal workings

iron tools of the trade only rearrange.

When summer’s over, the cars remain ghosts

but the girls return for a final pose.

Then driven to nowhere in borrowed cars

these callow young men reserved all along.

Death Of Language

Out of body

even as our eyes

focus/our

fingers interlocked

with familiar

detachment.

She takes

photographs of

herself, of me

countless birds

that leave us

without crumbs.

All, as it

should be until

with succinct

innocence she

mentions a friend

whose obviously more.

A montage of

images gather

to assail/accuse

with inviolate

clarity. Her

recent furtive

moments…

Calls made

with surreptitious

candor. Late

nights and

now its too late

to ask why.

On a busy street

she wants to explain

all I feel. As every

artery rushes blood

to my skull with

dizzying effect.

At a restaurant

she cant explain herself

nor can I.

The death of language

all we know.

Waitress gives us

menus but English

and love  are now

languages-

I no longer understand.

For Lydia Lunch

They’re all guilty

said Lydia Lunch

of her predators.

Cracked mirrors

who left each                               

sharp shard

of  hate deep

to draw blood

frequently in

nightmares framed

with forbidden

detail from assaults

of childhood incest.

It’s been her life

to wake scathed

from these or

lesser indifferent wounds.

Later documented as if

from  a mirror

in too many ways not

to be her life’s work.

A  timeless art

from trauma her shadow

at home or hospitals

as they stitched her up again.

Trauma of being set loose

with havoc and revenge

the only words to live by.

Seldom having

enough disdain to aim.

Her targets all

varied players…

some merely accidents.

In lurid yet beguiling

ongoing adventures

she half hypnotizes

even the casual to read…

or hear on stage.

Where still

no one is ever safe

especially not her.

Poetry from Norman J. Olson

Leaving LAX

the big plane lifted over

El Segundo leaving the lights of

Los Angeles like a million

pinball machines

lined up to the

black water Pacific shore…

I ordered a drink and some

warm nuts, started watching

a movie

and headed for London…

Visiting the National Gallery

Nelson stood atop his

column, looking

small and forgotten

as the waves of

tourists

crashed on the steps of

the National Gallery…

I got in line, showed them

my backpack with my extra

layers of jacket, and walked

into a room

fishy with underwater light

to pry secrets from the shadows

of Vermeer…

when I started to think that

maybe the only one

who ever really got it

right was

Francis Bacon, I knew it

was time to leave…

In Florence, Italy

we flew in over

the ridiculously beautiful

Tuscan countryside

to land with a roar

of reverse thrust

on the short Florentine

runway…

later, the sun was warm

on my cheek and

I looked at Brunelleschi’s dome

and wondered what it was like

for the bricklayers

350 feet up on a scaffold

made of planks and rope…

there were a million of us,

tourists,

running around with our

fashion designer shopping

bags, gazing in awe

at the sheer audacity

of the cathedral…

then we went into

one of the swanky

restaurants and got a plate

of rigatoni and a rich,

sour Chianti…   

Rizal Tanjung reviews Anna Keiko’s paintings

Large colorful oil painting by Anna Keiko, with splashes of yellow and red and green and purple paint. Figure of a bird or person on the right, face and body suggested.

Review of Anna Keiko’s Painting: Contemporary Expression in the Context of Art History

By: Rizal Tanjung

Anna Keiko’s painting presents an expressionist approach with the use of vibrant colors and bold brushstrokes, creating a dynamic and emotionally charged composition. This work appears to be part of contemporary art, emphasizing individual expression and freedom of form. To understand Anna Keiko’s position in the evolution of world painting, we must examine the long history of visual art from prehistoric times to the contemporary era.

The Evolution of Painting: From Prehistory to Modernism

Painting has undergone a long evolution, reflecting humanity’s cultural and intellectual development.

1. Prehistoric and Ancient Art (40,000 BC – 476 AD)

The cave paintings in Lascaux, France, and Altamira, Spain, are early examples of human visual art.

Ancient Egyptian, Greek, and Roman art began to show structured composition, perspective, and symbolism.

2. The Middle Ages (476 AD – 1400 AD)

Painting was dominated by religious iconography with Byzantine and Gothic styles.

The use of gold colors and flat perspectives reflected spiritual values rather than realism.

3. The Renaissance (1400 AD – 1600 AD)

Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Raphael revolutionized art with scientific perspective and realistic human anatomy.

Art became more human-centered, emphasizing intellectual exploration.

4. Baroque and Rococo (1600 AD – 1800 AD)

Artists like Caravaggio and Rembrandt highlighted chiaroscuro (light-dark contrast).

Rococo was more decorative and feminine, with soft colors and pastoral themes.

5. Neoclassicism and Romanticism (1750 AD – 1850 AD)

These movements combined classical elegance with emotional expression.

Artists like Jacques-Louis David and Francisco Goya challenged academic traditions.

6. Impressionism and Post-Impressionism (1860 AD – 1900 AD)

Claude Monet and Vincent van Gogh emphasized light effects and spontaneous colors.

Post-Impressionism (Gauguin, Cézanne) focused more on structure and emotion.

7. Modernism and Avant-Garde Movements (1900 AD – 1950 AD)

Cubism (Picasso, Braque) deconstructed forms.

Expressionism (Kandinsky, Munch) highlighted subjective emotions.

Surrealism (Dalí, Magritte) explored the subconscious.

Contemporary Art and Anna Keiko’s Position in Artistic Evolution

Anna Keiko appears to follow the path of abstract expressionism, which emerged after World War II, where freedom of expression became the core of artistic creation. Artists like Jackson Pollock and Willem de Kooning popularized this style with spontaneous gestures and expressive use of color.

In her painting, Keiko combines intense contrasting colors and distorted figurative forms, reminiscent of German Expressionism (such as Egon Schiele) with a touch of Neo-Expressionism (such as Jean-Michel Basquiat). This combination suggests that she is part of the contemporary art movement, continuously exploring the boundaries of form, emotion, and interpretation.

Anna Keiko’s painting reflects the evolution of art, which has undergone numerous transformations from prehistoric times to the digital era. Through her expressive approach, she becomes part of a generation of contemporary artists who continue the tradition of experimentation and artistic freedom. In the context of art history, Keiko’s work manifests the modern spirit—unbound by classical rules but focusing on human expression and subjectivity.

West Sumatra, March 19, 2025.

Young East Asian woman with dark hair and brown eyes and a small necklace and yellow shirt.

Poetry from Eva Petropoulou Lianou

Light-skinned middle-aged European woman with green eyes, thick blonde hair, and a sparkly green sweater.

I miss the hug

A hug that they give you and you forget the weaknesses of your existence.

I miss a kiss

The kiss that someone give you and your stomach make those noise like is full of butterflies

I miss the smile

That childish smile that you have

U are smiling and all nature become

Pink

I miss the walk to the beach

The waves

The perfume of the salt

I miss the sunshine and the sunset

All the simple things that I had

I miss the generosity of people

I miss the kindness of grandparents

I miss the relaxing moments of drinking a coffee

Now, they all want your friend, your position, your talent, your contact, your potential, your life almost but no one…

Nobody want to get in your shoes

They are too tide.!!!!