[Originally published in Fleury’s book  “Sparks in the Dark: A Lighter Shade of Blue, a Poetic Memoir”]

Thug Resume

Objective                     Don’t act too black, try not to scare the white man to get ahead

Education                    Ghetto University

                                    Major: Surviving Society

                                    Degree; Bachelors in Criminology

Work History              Head welfare receiver

                                    Robbery regulator

                                    Gang leader

                                    Sniper

                                    Straight white male dissenter

Affiliations                  Gang bangers unity

                                    Drug dealers industry

                                    Illegal gun sellers society

Awards & Honors       Achievement in “surviving the game”

                                    Achievement in “homicide targeting black males”

                                    Achievement in ‘confirming stereotypes”

Hobbies                       Gun slinging, police evading, inter-racial fighting

References                  Unavailable upon request

Jacques Fleury is a Boston Globe featured Haitian American Poet, Educator, Author of four books and a literary arts student at Harvard University online. His latest publication “You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self”  & other titles are available at all Boston Public Libraries, the University of Massachusetts Healey Library, University of  Wyoming, Askews and Holts Library Services in the United Kingdom, The Harvard Book Store, The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, Amazon etc…  He has been published in prestigious publications such as Wilderness House Literary Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, Litterateur Redefining World anthologies out of India, Poets Reading the News, the Cornell University Press anthology Class Lives: Stories from Our Economic Divide, Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene among others…Visit him at:  http://www.authorsden.com/jacquesfleury.–

Intellectual Coma

At the epicenter of this moment, humanity is manifesting itself in its most glorious form, but not in the light of a blazing mind or in the purity of a transcendent spirit. Rather, it is in the shadow of a profound crisis that is shaking the foundations of its existence. We might think that all this intellectual noise ravaging the earth is merely a passing phenomenon, but what is happening is far more dangerous. We live in a cosmic epic, where the earth is burning within itself, the heavens are trembling, and everything, even silence, is witness to the madness of existence.

We live in a time when grand ideologies are disintegrating, and the illusions we have planted in minds over the centuries are shattered. We see every idea in conflict with the next in a vicious circle of confusion. Those human desires that once revolved around sublime human values ​​are now nothing but lies propagated by power and greed. What have we done with the mind? Is it still the light that illuminated the paths of philosophers, or have we turned it into a mirage pursued by those racing toward the unknown? Do minds now mean anything, or have they been transformed into nothing more than gigantic machines that produce meaningless noise, revolving in closed circles without meaning?  The End

We are drowning in a kingdom of intellectual coma, where wars are accelerating across the geography of consciousness, while souls are being sold in opportunistic markets, and man becomes a mere number in an equation he did not establish. Is it the march of sin, or does the earth reflect a mirror of our age, which is drowning in its depths, unable to comprehend this abyss towards which we are heading? Is it a wave surging from the depths of humanity, drowning everything in a sea of ​​unfathomable madness?

And what about those gods we have created with our own hands? Do they truly reflect sublime values, or is what we consider faith merely an echo of the call of the absent crowds? The earth explodes in deep screams of death, and we stand on the edge of the abyss. Every time we try to catch our breath, we find ourselves captive to the fear that has taken root within us over the ages. Yes, it is the epic of evil spirits, but we are the ones writing its chapters with the ink of our blood.

Nothing at this moment seems stable or subject to rational explanation. Everything revolves in a vicious circle, as if the earth itself, with all its creatures and things, is shedding endless tears.  It is a tragedy written by the hand of time, which knows neither mercy nor forgiveness.

In this cosmic turmoil, we are immersed in a state of astonishment at what is happening, not only because of the magnitude of the catastrophe, but also because we are unable to understand it, as if we are trying to unravel a complex puzzle while we live at its heart, unaware that it is time that is leading us, not the other way around.

Naaman Al-Gharib

Iraq

Earth's Song

An epiphany of mossed cottage
The outlandish prairies lease high
For over the high altitude of dreams
A sparrow of leaden washed thought
I spare time and murmur earth’s song
A long visitor of Alpine wine 
For brownish chestnut thought
A magdalen tower of higher spree 
A beaver stranded upon a shooting collapse
I know not what to thee
I muse of an eponymous hero 
An unsung heroine that leaves yonder thee
A blasting music came through the cottages 
We were grey and happy
For the earth’s gate was high sprung elysian
As I standed with the mossed tree. 

ALEXANDER ARKADYEVICH FEINBERG 

He who has no tongue has no rights,

We’ve poisoned the oceans’ embrace.

Dolphins leap and land upon the shore,

Dying without a single word to say.

Trees are silent, forests are felled.

The mountain’s peak, locators subdue.

In the desert sky, a nuclear fire blazes,

Burning voiceless grass and herbs away.

Water offers no retort, nor does stone,

A lion will leap into flames, bowing his head to the blow.

Birds of flight perish as bullets take aim.

Since creation, this ancient world

We are indifferent. We haven’t died of shame.

Why did you give language to man, O God?!

Translation by Shukurilloyeva Lazzatoy

The Answer?

(1)

Everything said

can’t keep it all in

spilling coke and peanuts

leaking ink

all over the state

night birds singing

why are we here?

(2)

Taking it

easy

slow poison

train whistling

way back there vacant corner

before the downhill grade

steam simple?

(3)

At the station now

loitering

others running

from themselves

she finds you

a ticket

tattoo

on her belly?

(4)

Hunger pains

driving you

hazy sleep

her head

in your lap

rollercoaster ride

hiccups high

for another

clap of hands?

(5)

Spitting bird seed

she keeps herself

hollow light

ring ready

complete opposite

maybe for you

somewhere in the middle

the answer?

From happiness

I thought that poems would end with happiness,

It’s candlelight, it’s dark.

I couldn’t write poems because of happiness,

The candle burned in vain.

I thought that poems would end with happiness,

Every word is from love.

I write poetry, I have not broken my promise

But from the hatred that I have in my heart. 

I thought that poems would end with happiness,

Like Layla,

My prince is even stranger than Majnun,

I don’t know why I am happy.

My life is a simple tale,

Not ordinary, not even a fairy tale 

I have pain, grave heart,

Poetry is my comfort.

I’m patient as a poet,

I burn, I get tired, I don’t die.

The world is now on fire.

I will answer as a candle.

Orinbayeva Dildara was born on March 10, 2008 in Tortkol district of the Republic of Karakalpakstan.  9th grade student of school No. 24 of Tortkol district.  He reads with excellent grades and is the captain of the Youth Union of the Republic of Uzbekistan. He has organized many events.  She is a talented writer whose poems have been published.  The poem “Loyalty” was published in the “Korparcha Collection”.  The article “INTERESTING INFORMATION ABOUT BIOLOGY.” was published in the International Anthology of Blue Sky Stars. The poem “Rain” was published and indexed on Google sites.  The poem “Ozligim Anglab” was published in “Future Scholars Creative Collection” and “Book, Certificate, Diploma.”  He became the owner.  Holder of international certificates.