Waiting For The Rapture

While I was sitting on the crowded subway train

Reading the corporate spoon-fed false propaganda news

While commuting from my suburban townhouse

Watching the lies masquerading as so-called truth news.

I became consumed 

With dread, fear, and grief,

The ever-growing fear that the terrorists 

Have won the war against terrorism.

We’ve given our freedom away 

Dissent is un-American, anti-Christian,

 and unpatriotic.

“Shut your face, you whiny leftist girlie man 

Communist, fascist, Marxist hoodlum punk

Radical left-wing vermin, garbage person,

Un-American terrorist supporting, Tersymps, 

Trans gendered, LGBTQ supporting, 

 wimpy assed piece of crap”

You are poisoning the pure blood 

of our great land

Show us your papers, prepare to be deported,”

Growls the voice of the One True American party

The party that controls our life, rules our very existence

And I want to escape these dark nightmarish times

All around me, but there is nowhere to run

Nowhere to hide anymore, no one cares 

What I think anyway.

The terrorists lurk behind every door

Who are the terrorists?

They are not me

I am a god-fearing white Christian man

The terrorist does not go to my church

He does not even believe in my God..

He is a heretic, a Muslim fanatic

A non-believer in Jesus, not like me

They must be killed, exterminated 

All according to God’s plan

This has been revealed 

to our Prophet in chief

King Donald Trump 

, the invincible

Must learn how to believe again

I must reprogram myself

God is watching us, or is it big Brother

As the world descends into chaos

And the Orange alerts 

grows brightly day by day

I lay down to pray for the bombs to fall

For the rapture to take me away

Waiting for the end of existence

Cleanse the world of its sins

Bring on the rapture, sweat nuclear flames 

With these dismal thoughts

I pick up my newspaper

 and look for something

I will never find there.

Truth is nothing but lies

Lies promoted by the spinmeisters

The true masters of the Universe.

Integrity is nothing but a lie

Nothing but a game.

Slime oozes out 

of every corner of the media

And so I remain consumed

 by dread, fear, and hatred.

Waiting in vain for the rapture

The dropping of the big one

Waiting for the

 end of this period of chaos.

It is all going according to plan

The end of the era 

according to the ancient Mayan

Revelations and the Koran.

Bring on the rapture

Let me meet my god

If he exists.

If not the hell ahead

Is surely better than this hell

We live in.

Jennifer Lang’s new memoir 

Landed: A  yogi’s memoir in pieces & poses addresses many themes common to her previous book, Places We Left Behind: a memoir-in-miniature, including dislocation, nostalgia, insecurity, and the desire to find a place to belong amid multiple international moves. And, like Places, it employs interesting literary devices: lists, poems, thought bubbles, and a true-false test. They almost read like part I and part II; Landed begins in 2011 where Places ends. 

This second memoir, published 13 months after the first, goes even farther with its introspective questioning, though, as a yoga friend of Lang’s suggests that the author’s feeling adrift could be just as much due to struggles within herself as with her bi-national lifestyle and disagreements with her French husband. And we see more of Jennifer’s own work and practices to carve out her own space, within the chapters on yoga poses and classes interspersed between anecdotes of her married life and also within her account of her writing life. That includes teaching memoir writing classes in Israel as well as writing this memoir. 

This book humanizes a part of the world that all too often makes headlines for the wrong reasons. It also tells the universal human story of a woman balancing concern for her husband, adult children, and aging parents, who have struggles all their own in Landed.

Jennifer Lang’s Landed is available here through Vine Leaves Press.

gone

it’s the first time 
since she went 
that i’ve been back here
to this outdoor café
in a crowded square 

by the busy beach 
at the same time
in the late afternoon

i use to come here 
twice every week
after i saw her
spent an hour or two 
with her

in the nursing home
where she lived
for years

today i came here 
at the time i use to
and am feeling sad
as i thought i would be
and thinking lots of her 

while having a coffee
enjoying the sun
and reading the paper

i suppose thoughts 
and feelings 
are expected
coming back here  
as i’m missing her

and still find it hard
to believe
mum is gone

Stephen House has won many awards and nominations as a poet, playwright, and actor. He’s had 20 plays produced with many published by Australian Plays Transform. He’s received several international literature residencies from The Australia Council for the Arts, and an Asialink India literature residency. He’s had two chapbooks published by ICOE Press Australia: ‘real and unreal’ poetry and ‘The Ajoona Guest House’ monologue. His next book drops soon. He performs his acclaimed monologues widely. Stephen had a play run in Spain for 4 years. 

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

*

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.

Ecology and me

What do we mean by ecology? Ecology is a complex of biological sciences that studies the structure of systems, populations, biocenoses, biogeocenoses, that is, the structure of the ecosystem and the biosphere, the processes that take place in them. The term ecology was coined in 1866 by the German scientist E. Haeckel It was proposed to determine the relationship with. It can lead to chaos and disturbance. As a result of disturbing the ecological balance, it has a deep and bad effect on human health. Therefore, try your best to avoid causing environmental problems and to eliminate these problems!

  What can you think of as environmental problems?

One of the main problems is air pollution and global warming. Due to the humidification of the air, the ozone layer is collapsing. The origin of this problem is the harmful gases emitted by enterprises and cars. If we talk about the problem of global warming, as a result of this, glaciers are melting and animals living on these glaciers are dying. Especially polar bears. Due to this, it is necessary to reduce and eliminate the occurrence of such problems.


Kurolova Dilnura Shokirjon's daughter was born on October 15, 2009 in Gurlan district of Khorezm region. She is currently a student of the 8th grade of the 30th school. To date, she has achieved many achievements.