WALKING with JESUS

Matthew 16:21 (NIV) -”Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

My witness is that Jesus told me to pick up my Cross and follow Him. I have found my life in walking with Jesus, carrying my cross in all kinds of situations. Walking through the light and darkness. Walking through the dry seasons in my life and the storms in my life. Walking each step following You, Lord. Your yoke is easy for on my own there is pain and sorrow for what I have lost. Your salvation has removed that pain and loss. I have been restored. My salvation and redemption have brought me eternal salvation. For I walk with you, and each step is a step of joy and faithfulness. In this life, there is peace, contentment, and joy. In this life, there is freedom from the pain and suffering that had held me captive. 

My soul is following your commandments to love others as myself. I love myself because of your sacrifice on the Cross for me. It is that ultimate denial of self which brought my freedom. Freedom brought with Your suffering and humiliation and finally Your Crucifixion. A sacrifice of the ultimate love for me dying on the Cross. You gave me a glimpse of eternal life preparing me for God's Kingdom. You showed me the Kingdom within me: mercy and forgiveness and gratitude. It is this mercy that brings me before your Glorious Father, as I kneel, at the altar of my heart. Moments in solitude and quietness are the essence of who I was created to be. Yes, I will pick up my Cross and follow you for you are my Lord, King of my redemption. 



CONVERSATIONS with GOD

For Dee my mother


 My foster mother Dee always spoke about God and Jesus Christ. God knows, she would say, and God doesn't like ugly. She always listened to the gospel station that was her life and took care of us children. Washing and ironing clothes and cooking our meals and preparing us for school. Washing our faces and combing our hair and putting Vaseline on our ashy skin. 

Our clothes were always clean. We were taught manners and to be respectful to all adults. Mostly, I remembered feeling alone and empty since my biological mother had left me. Dee took me in when I was two weeks old. I lived with her until my aunt adopted me at eight years of age. My conversations with God started at eight. I remembered Dee always talking to God aloud. Talking to God came naturally to me. Dee always talked to Jesus and she insisted He listened. Maybe He would hear my prayers. My fears and loneliness and anxiety were overwhelming. Walking the streets of D.C., I was afraid and felt terrorized with good cause because of the violence and turmoil in the streets.  


My aunt adopted me at age eight.  My aunt was Catholic, and being Catholic, she took me to Mass every weekday and Saturday and on Sundays. It was at a morning mass when the priest summoned me to the altar. I was to assist him on the altar to serve communion. This was my invitation to serve God as well. I stepped onto the altar. God wanted me in my street clothes. God wanted me. I genuflected (kneeling and making the sign of the Cross). The priest opened the gate and I stepped onto the altar for the first time, standing to the right side of the priest carrying the host plate (this is used to catch the consecrated host so it won’t touch the floor if it falls.)  

He served communion to each person, as they kneeled at the altar to receive Communion. He walked to each person kneeling with their eyes closed and their tongue out receiving the body of Christ. There was a sense of reverence for helping serve the body of Christ. I felt a personal calling to serve God and a closeness to God. Looking back on this experience. I realized God was real and wanted me to serve Him. This feeling of connecting to God never left me. 


My conversations with God began shortly after that first encounter. I had a place where I felt wanted. It was Holy Redeemer Church. From ages eight to ten, my refuge was the church. The calmness of God’s presence was the same as that first time serving communion.  I longed for God’s calming presence within me. There was a calling within me to recapture that loving and warm presence of God. 

I sat in the front pew and observed the altar candle burning (which served as a reminder of God's light always burning). I studied the white candle burning as it flicked side to side. This was God’s light and I watched it calmly. The colorful votive candles burned with various colors. red, blue, and yellow as I sat  there alone with the Holy Trinity (Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.) The ceiling was covered with murals covering the dome.  Angels adorned the dome in a pretty sky-blue background with white wings.  There were statutes of Mary and Joseph and other Holy figures. This was the Holy family of Jesus. 

1) Plot Hole


The light at the end
of the tunnel turned out to
be a gaping plot 
hole in my argument,

     so, I was forced to freestyle.


2) Psychic Warfare


I’m still convinced that
someone in their employ was
waging psychic war-
fare upon me in order
     to gain access to all my
     family’s secret recipes.  


3) Places of Residence


Is there a name for
the frequent dreaming of one’s
     former places of
     residence, specifically
     dreams of still living there-in?


4) Daffodils, Sweat Bees, Helicopters


Daffodils in an 
old salsa jar half-full of
well water, sitting 
     on an old deck table in
     the sun, while sweat bees circle               
     around like helicopters.




5) Progress, If Not Victory, So Much


A
          mile
     or two
                    of sun-cracked
           two-lane blacktop with
                            about three feet of a gravel
shoulder, sloping off to a ditch by the side of the
                    road, an old mailbox full of bullet holes,
    over-flowing with who knows how many days?
weeks? months? of mail; and there’s something 
                              about the smell of
                newly laid tarmac first thing in
        the morning that for
                             some reason
                       always
                                    makes
                                                me
                                         think
                                                   of
                                                   progress.




Jason Ryberg is the author of eighteen books of poetry,
six screenplays, a few short stories, a box full of folders,
notebooks and scraps of paper that could one day be 
(loosely) construed as a novel, and countless
love letters, never sent. He is currently an artist-in-
residence at both The Prospero Institute of Disquieted 
P/o/e/t/i/c/s and the Osage Arts Community, and is an 
editor and designer at Spartan Books. His latest collection 
of poems is “Fence Post Blues (River Dog Press, 2023).” 
He lives part-time in Kansas City, MO with a rooster 
named Little Red and a Billy-goat named Giuseppe, 
and part-time somewhere in the Ozarks, near the 
Gasconade River, where there are also many strange 
and wonderful woodland critters. 

Dictum

It is when words fall
that they lose their im-

pact. Must remain in 
the air for more than

a second or two, cling-
ing to clothing or twist-

ing upwards in the way 
that cigarette smoke does.


Articles

I like using articles to end a 
line. Sometimes an article
of faith, sometimes of clothing. &

occasionally a particle of speech
to give the space between lines
that extra bit of frisson. It is a 

continuity, the way forward, not 
the end of the line that some
flat-earthers seem to think it is. 



 
The Clearing

Not how I re-
remembered or
would have left 
it. Too much

foliage, as if no
one has been here 
to tidy up since I
last came by. 

Tradition always 
suffers when the 
oracles move into 
the marketplaces.


A kind of census

The mind’s mosaic has 
been taken in for intro-
spection. Why learn for 
the sake of learning? Un-
necessary facts might just 
as well be fiction for all 
the use we get from them. 

The fragments are taken 
out for sensual inspection. 
Left so the air can breathe 
on them. Those that acquire 
color are kept to form new 
pathways of the mind. The
bland are used to pebble 
pathways in the garden. 

 

Another Sunflower Sutra

In sunflower I find 
pistil & stamen, their 

output arranged in 
a Fibonacci spiral.


& following on

As the sun sets, the 
credits start to roll. 

This day was brought 
to you by the seven

ayem garbage col-
lectors, a poem that 

glistened just beyond 
the edges of the trawl-

ing net, Sketches of Spain 
with Miles Davis & Gil 

Evans, four coldcall 
intrusions, all declined, 

The Last Samurai on 
cable, washing off the 

line. No special effects 
were provided by either 

Industrial Light & Ma-
gic or Marvel Studios.

Older Middle Eastern man with sunglasses, thinning hair, and a white collared shirt, silver tie, and gray coat.

The Game and the Deluge 

O, lady! 
Your face is a word 
Hidden under the feathers of a peacock, 
A lady in a large hall .. alone 
Whose secret is wrapped in nothingness. 
O, lady! 
I avoid crying 
Beyond my occult voice 
While repeating the words of a sentence. 
My fear cancels off all things 
To keep you a lady of the absolute 
Reducing this paper cosmos 
To an idol on a banquet of the earth 
Announcing the death of Man. 
The game could not stop the deluge. 

(2) 
The River of a Knife Poetry is ritualistic 
O, you, my wish 
Be goddesses and amulets 
Or keep silent for ever. 
And turn off as a dream 
In the head of a castaway, 
A banquet of fruits for the spirit, 
Crows 're hiding the oblation love 
In a river of a knife. 

(3) 
All are a Chatter 
Bag All are a bag of cackles, 
All travel throughout words 
Drawing the circle of death. 
Black magic 
Declares the world as my grave. 
Death is the road of gnostics. 
So be steps and follow my steps 
The path of God passes through 
The sins of the exiles. 

Abdul Razzaq Al-Amiri 1947-2010, a poet from Najaf, started writing poetry at an early age and published his poems in Iraqi newspapers and magazines at that time. His poetry was characterized by philosophical contemplation, emotional and intellectual alienation, and a preference for solitude and staying away from the public eye. In 1969, he published his first poetry collection titled "Qurban Al-Ishreen" (Sacrifice of the Twenties), and among his other poetry collections is "Diaries of the Eternal Question”. Translated into English By Hussein Nasser Jabr.

NEW WAYS TO USE INTERNATIONAL TECHNOLOGIES IN PRIMARY EDUCATION

          It is known from the historical development of any country that the rapid development of the country, the achievement of certain achievements, and the well-being of the people depend on the level of attention paid to the education and future of the youth in that country. In this sense, the issue of youth in Uzbekistan is one of the most priority directions of the state policy. “Education gives creative activity to the spirituality of the people of Uzbekistan. All the best opportunities of the growing young generations are manifested in it, they constantly improve their profession and skills, the wise advice and experiences of the older generations are highly understood and passed on to the young, mature generation.” [1,78] To all of us. It is well known that many years ago, the concept of education was defined from a national-democratic point of view. In order to realize this stated goal, new models of education are being created, the theoretical foundations of which are being proven scientifically and practically by leading specialists. This scientific-practical proof is closely related to high-level technologicalization of educational processes. In the Republic of Uzbekistan, special attention is paid to the education of a mature generation as the main criterion of development.

         Improved versions of the Law on Education and the “National Program of Personnel Training” have been created, which correspond to world standards, and are recognized by the education staff of many countries. These laws and programs are gradually being implemented in our country. The introduction of personal computers into school life shows that it should be used in all educational subjects and school activities.” In today’s advanced age, modern technology tools are used effectively in schools. Computers are widely used not only for teaching the course “Basics of Informatics and Computer Science”, but also in almost all areas of school education. Adaptation of primary school students to the modern environment, making them more interested in lessons through multimedia, video and audio lessons is giving sufficient results today. Today, almost all spheres of society’s life, including the development of education, cannot be imagined without the media.

        Due to the globalization of the information space and its “openness”, the flow of new knowledge, views, facts, and concepts is increasing rapidly, and the use of information spread through the media is growing at high rates. Therefore, as new innovative technologies occupy a worthy place in the education of the young generation, the further involvement of our youth in the innovations of the technological age will make a significant contribution to the development of our country. Nowadays, one of the leading factors of achieving efficiency in the educational system is the use of innovative technologies. It would not be wrong to say that the creation and use of modern innovative technologies in educational institutions in the “National Personnel Training Program” has become the demand of the times. The introduction of technical tools into the educational system made it possible to present information in the form of audio, text, photo and video images. Such tools are often considered multimedia tools due to their complex technical and technological aspects. The introduction of computers into the field of education is considered a universal means of information processing. Multimedia technology provides integration of various types of information with content and harmony. It allows to present various forms of information with the help of computer.

                                                                  Khojamova Gulsevar Abdullajanovna

                                                  Uzbekistan, independent scientific researcher

Mock Poet

 

Out of the blue of the internet

someone

asked me, as a non-poet,

to recommend a poem

for a special issue on non-poets

recommending poets.

 

Okay! I said. But!

There is a problem!

(Drumroll.)

 

I am a poet!

(Imagine a fanfare here.)

(You can find one on the internet.)

 

Out of the blue of the internet

someone

responded. “That’s okay,” they said.

They added, for encouragement:

“I play tennis sometimes.

But it’s not like I’m a tennis player.

Hobbyists are fine.”

 

Hey! I said.

(Imagine a sad fanfare here.)

(Imagine a weeping emoji.)

 

I have a book!

I am a real poet!

 

The internet shimmered.

The fanfare died.

I recommended

someone.

And sat down to write

whatever this is.

 

Not a poem.