Im poorly, here purely to supermax lit af pieces of dream boat first in class analysis. And so, this blustery but warm morning, wanting summat more dead, more despotically modern than Ginia Woolfy, i picked up

From my bookshelf, Luke Beesley’s Jam Sticky Visions. I didnt like it at the time i got it, but it met the criteria: prose poems. But it just seemed to glitch on the train thought he was real clever when not. For most, tho, thats just what, thats all poetry is. Pose poems.

Its not to this’n. But if it was, well, his pieces arent good enough for my reply. Beesley’s collection meets the bin back at home, a brown paper Woolworths bag you out of ideas welcome homeland security. And then, i bellyflop that trash onto the stale, malodorous front yard-birds-pecking-through-it dumpster like a babushka against a big, bad bag snatcher. To put a lid on it

Life is too shot – big bang, ‘member? – out the canon to fuck around with global village idiot, middle class pretensions who cant match magnifying glass flints. Stones have better ideals than the fish that pass degrees for and about poets here, their tree. Sun up, sun down voted, they did, for their mess escape to Plato’s outermost caves. Not thermonuclear to them yet over lap it up tick exiled you bygones can each buy a gun safe houses the generic in form elation of the errorist cellular phone it in to my hallowed lover hands it to the red hot LED scope aimed at my chest rattles and cuff links expired here to fore ground like yr ilks circuit elephants run, run, run, run, run, take a dragon, too. Run, run, run, run, run, Gypsy death and – who?

JammStixy Fission

*

Butt how at that egg sack kodak moment cd he know to send the beer reviewed psychological realty paper on the ocean thru to our minds kelly later fund wanting a big mac buy the bodies had some errands to at temp t r ee ho uses s of horror show meat the  “©” sidle up2 you heave at least a litre of water work out even in yr sleep cycle thru cr ash in g cold wars stolen by cut thr oat suns screen for viral infections like you rodeo on aviary fast chance zoom deleted by the belligerent hike up that zucchini lord lands yr skirt in g bored a farce round wheezes pest con trolleys w and er out of stock take it from me, you dont wanna drop the soap opera s hard b oiled defect IFs stoned as gargoyles mauve to purloin carnal knowledges my throw off’s the purr suit you to lie down panting our supple mental state’s alchemical question murks demand thy origin and tonic water down the cunning linguist falconry standby the : ph: ill lips blue bury their distinguished faculty for telling pokie towers over kill you all dis appoint me dog

*

So sLane it herds m’dear widdershins in to con sitter up grate to the verse cloud gathering like a gathering in formation dawn be Lowes haul my cheese deportment of tome travellers form a hoSPITal orderly racing to morn (!) our own Deaths wade like tables off in to the doowopping end ear ring night mayor of this new town square circle the Bast answers back to your no future

*

a neutron star let out its steam roller blind ed by your head light up a joint venture capital city gone to the doggerels of raw shucks

*

Get down stars spin around my hood lights up like mention of a crush garlic to keep the stoker doesnt seam to be any weigh here the bats the baller is knocked up to date the titanic sank out of bounds along the rolex watch tower attack gundagai slimmin’ on dust stacks cant afford the opportunity cost price of winning art disses my pure blood whine of the month this combing harvest cow and

moon you

[Ps cow and moon is a famous ice cream place in sydneys iner west]

*

Get out of my way, or no way at all. Selling sunny days, surreal estate, are you? His face jiggles like a constellation in the wind

ow, a mouth where the fireplace should be, tongue lolling out like an animal onto the floorboards, which are, by the looks of it, solid timber

pine gap.. wtf am i doing back here, your queen dragging this insipid spectacle, this treasure chest of our society behind us, its constant hacking cough

syrup me only d rink g rip tape?

*

even doors stick to the souls of my chews a quiet residential area 51 of then again I saw the planet coming apart at the sentence them to knife in prism effect the Hollywood end launch your self sacrifice Alice to the dragging on a joint venture capitalism is good shit hole in my shoes flutter as I stroke your facebook gives me a psychic shucks

*

I shoot straight as bam boo yr dead head has its lid taken off a coco nut empty as the bar rel of a border disp ute swerves up dust once we’re still the most realpolitik

TOC.. Pluto will wanna gain cointreau of this terminal illness. Our expedition need return like a king to the exposition. In the meantime, en joy ride a Grif ter’s in fern al pil sen er

*

inheritance

i see you, my child

taking after your father.

the way he yearns

to care for everything

except his own mind.

all you wish is to 

be loved the way

that you love the world.

the way your heart moves

is a cry for help

i watch your eye twitch

just like your dad’s

when he is locking away

his own mind into his

own form of purgatory.

he is jailed, sealed

away from the warmth

he desperately needs.

i love you, my child.

let your soul roam

free into all the wonders

this world can offer.

The same motherland that shaped me now seeks to break me,
A stranger hut where familiarity’s a distant memory.
Every step feels like a betrayal, choking my breath,
A reality that suffocates, leaving me gasping for air.
But we’re survivors, weathering hunger’s biting pangs,
Enduring bullets born of insecurity’s sting.
We stand tall, proud in our composure,
United in love for our country, despite its flaws.
My skin, richly pigmented, tells ancestors’ stories,
Resilience and triumphs are etched in every glory.
Like my father before and mother now,
We, the younger generation, face adversity with courage.
Though aspirations are restricted, dreams flourish hidden,
Wildflowers blooming secretly, unrelenting.
Rise, fellow countrymen, weary but united we stand,
Determined to reach great heights, despite soaring challenges.
Our fuel may be scarce, but perseverance is plentiful,
Our spirit is unbroken, like wildflowers that bloom.
Let us rise, and in our diversity, find strength,
For a brighter future, where dreams are free to length.

Marvelous Monday is a passionate writer with a published credit in Written Tales Magazine. His work explores themes of identity, resilience, and social justice.

Judge Santiago Burdon offers his new collection A Charlatan’s Aphorisms for review. Please contact us if you’re interested and we’ll put you in touch with him for a copy.

This is a Best of Collection of both past and new poetry by Judge Santiago Burdon. They were selected by dedicated readers and past publishers. Some have appeared in his books “Not Real Poetry” and “Tequilas Bad Advice Poetry With the Worm.” Judge Santiago Burdon’s poetry is a sophisticated slap in the face. The imagery induces you to clear your throat and shift your weight from one side to the other. Santiago doesn’t waste his words in an attempt to make you comfortable. As a poet he delivers defined grit and structured devastation. He speaks in the language of gasoline fumes and stale cigarette smoke. Always honest and fearless, never apologizing. Know that I am a fan.”

(Jack in the box popping out on the cover of Santiago’s book)

Now for our second October issue, The Shared Human Imagination. In this issue, we look to and draw upon our own creativity and love and that of the many who came before us.

Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa reflects on life’s complexity and on the overlap between poetry and music. J.J. Campbell’s curmudgeonly poetry explores age, loneliness, music and regret. Murrodillayeva Mohinur mourns her rejection by false friends as Ilhomova Mohichehra celebrates the refuge she finds in her dreams. Umida Jonibekova writes eloquently of clouds and rain.

Diana Magallon crafts visual poetic pieces on the movement of the ocean. Dilnura Qurolova highlights the importance of ecology and environmental awareness. Brian Barbeito probes the worlds within worlds in out-of-the-way corners within nature.

Raquel Barbeito’s visual art stylizes nature-based images. Kylian Cubilla Gomez’ photography presents images of cultivation, humans carefully sharing space with and working with the natural world.

Ilhomova Mohichehra revels in the natural and cultural beauty of her Uzbek homeland and also her native region of Zarafshan. Nodira Jorayeva celebrates Uzbekistan’s rich and noble history as Mahliyo Sunnatullayeva reflects on the cultural heritage of Uzbekistan. Rajarbona Sarvinoz looks to ancient Uzbekistan, outlining Central Asian historical leader Amir Temur’s aqueduct engineering. K.C. Fontaine relishes the rich Latin culture of Chicago’s Logan Square.

Otayeva Dinora highlights the dignity and importance of the teaching profession. Rayhona Sobirjonova offers up praise for a respected teacher as Saydinqulova Elenora Olimovna presents solid life advice in the form of a letter to a friend and classmate. Barnoxon Ruxieva celebrates Uzbekistan’s well-developed education system, in particular its Barkamol Avlod children’s schools.

Bardiyeva Dilnura evokes the poetic beauty of the Uzbek language. Charos Toshpulatova outlines the importance and unique value of sign language. Abduvahidova Farangiz compares and contrasts physical books and e-books. Nathan Anderson describes the finely crafted musical language of Sanjeev Sethi’s poetry collection Legato without a lisp.

In a piece of literary analysis, Z.I. Mahmud discusses how Philip Larkin’s poem Whitsun Weddings depicts social and ecological changes in England after the First World War.

Mark Young probes an imagined world in a fresh set of his “geographies,” digitally altered photos integrated with visual art. J.D. Nelson peers at the edges of his world through a fresh set of monostichs. Jim Meirose sends up a quirky story on pleasure and its aftermath. Jake Cosmos Aller depicts a fanciful wild night whirling and drinking through the solar system.

Fhen M. speculates on how the element of mystery attracts us to Magritte’s paintings. Soren Sorensen shares a sunset image and a metallic melting clock, perhaps Dali-inspired.

Stephen Jarrell Williams sends in gentle vignettes of hope and faith while Mahbub Alam describes love as one of humanity’s lofty aspirations.

Mesfakus Salahin considers his psychological complexity and fallibility in light of a great love that leaves him humbled. Duane Vorhees reflects on memory, love, and the ironies of life. Lan Qyqualla draws on history and memory in his poetic vignettes of love and connection. Ivan Pozzoni orates in English and Italian on human history, love, beauty, and tragedy.

Michael Robinson speaks to the peace he found through a relationship with Jesus.

Xavier Womack offers love and respect to a spiritual mother figure embracing the world. Leslie Lisbona reflects on the death of her mother and the empathy she finds through a classic novel and the broader human imagination.

Rukshona Rasulova celebrates her deceased grandmother’s long and loving life as Murrodillayeva Mohinur contemplates her mother’s steady love. Maknuna Oblaqulova honors her parents and their love. Iroda Abdusamiyeva mourns her deceased grandmother and celebrates her life. Orinbaeva Lalezar Azadbay reflects on losses in her life, especially her dearly departed parents. Taylor Dibbert reflects on his deep love for his departed dog.

Holy Henry Dasere laments some universal struggles of young womanhood as Graciela Noemi Villaverde highlights women’s determined struggle for equality and safety. Hilola Abdullayeva discusses ways to psychologically support people recently released from jail and prison.

A. Iwasa reviews activist and anti-fascist professor Josh Fernandez’ memoir The Hands That Crafted the Bomb as an exploration of how to take youthful brash exuberance into adulthood. Dr. Jernail S. Anand warns us about the danger of words to ignite hatred and violence, how the computer keyboard in the wrong hands can be more dangerous than a bomb.

Ahmad Al-Khatat’s poetry evokes sorrow over the loss of love and human experience as well as life in wartime. David Sapp speaks to how ordinary people react to global tragedies as Alexander Kabishev continues his grisly tales of the brutality Russians suffered during the siege of Leningrad. J.K. Durick explores new poetic ways the world could end.

Eva Petropoulou encourages the world to choose peace and tolerance as Daniel De Culla urges the world’s people to end the shameful tradition of hate. Mykyta Ryzhykh laments environmental destruction, war, and a personal heartbreak in his poetry. Pat Doyne pokes fun at Donald Trump’s style and ethics in her poem of warning.

Jacques Fleury urges us to get beyond our fear and welcome the “other,” those unlike us. Bill Tope’s poems highlight the pain children went through before we understood learning disabilities and neurodiversity.

Childhood is a time of adventure and wonderment. Isabel Gomez de Diego’s photos show a small child experiencing new spaces: a ship preserved on land with a carved mermaid on the prow, a park train with a red caboose.

As we grow, we try new things, sometimes get disappointed, learn, and move forward. Panijeva Dilnavo Shukurvna celebrates the youth of Central Asia and expresses her wish for her generation to thrive and triumph. Rukhshona Rasulova urges brave and dedicated work towards our goals. Orzigul Sherova highlights the importance of motivation in reaching one’s goals. Alex Stolis’ poems draw on addiction as a motif and speak to waiting, hoping, and being stuck.

Dilbar Koldoshova Nuraliyevna’s poetic speaker reflects on how her heart and intentions were pure, even if her goals did not work out.

Maja Milojkovic encourages us at any age to embrace blessings in our lives, with the understanding that they are temporary.

We hope that this issue will be thought-provoking and a blessing in your life.

A person grows up in his mother's body before he is born. When a mother is upset, she is upset. If he is happy, he will be happy. When he comes to the world, he grows up with the warm love of his mother and the love of his father. Parents are the only people who cheered him when he was happy, cried when he cried, stood by him in any situation, encouraged him, gave their life, love and everything. 

However, some people forget how they grew up and those blessed people who gave their lives to take care of them when they were unable to do anything. This is a sad situation. Or, life time is not worth it. On the contrary, after his death, he remains in a vortex of a thousand regrets. That's what they say about time. A person should make good use of his time and appreciate his parents. It is a very right decision for him to give the love and attention that his parents gave him. My parents are my wealth. Because of them, I can get out of any situation. They are my people who have always helped me and taught me their life experiences. 

Up to this age, no matter what day I had, my parents always came to the first aid. They were happy and proud of me when I succeeded, and when I faced difficulties, they advised me to learn from my mistakes. They tried to make me study, even if it was hard for them. "Learn first. The rest will slowly come to you." - they said. 

If every person has two wings in front of him, that is, his parents, then he is a strong person. Regardless of the situation, a person should always move forward. Because he should never forget that his parents are behind him, trusting him and watching him. 

Our greatest wealth is the presence of our parents. Therefore, my dear person, appreciate your parents. Give them the love they give you. Appreciate your time and make the most of it, knowing that it's a treasure. Always try to make them happy by taking their blessings.

Oblokhulova Maknuna was born on July 18, 2003. 3rd year student of Termez State University. Likes to write creative works. The main goal is to always learn and never stop giving.

Uzbekistan is a great country. Many famous scholars, poets and great generals have grown up in Uzbekistan. Nowadays, the children of Uzbekistan are among them.

Uzbekistan is a country rich in history, its historical monuments historical cities, historical objects and  manuscripts are still currently, they are preserved libraries, and most importantly in the museums of foreign countries.

Nowadays, many tourists visit the territory of Uzbekistan. At the same time tourism in Uzbekistan is developing in the city of Samarkand. There is a famous Ragistan square in the city of Samarkand it has Tillaqori, Sherdor, Uluğbek madrasahs.

Guests from faraway countries are visiting to see this. You will also enjoy these things if you come to Uzbekistan.