—————————————————–

trapped in the neon

one of those summer

nights where those

lovely eyes trapped

in the neon won’t

leave your mind

the kind of nights

where a carton of

cigarettes and a

bottle of jack

wouldn’t last

until dawn

loneliness aches like

no other pain as you

approach fifty

the friends have

wives and kids

you have a closet

full of baseball cards

and notes from high

school of what could

have been

echoes of laughter

will take you to hell

before any sleep

can be had

only the sick enjoy

the sickness

a drop of sweat

on a typewriter

years of pain

just like all

the other fools

———————————————-

from the grocery store

there is a sign

on the side of

the road that i

see when i drive

home from the

grocery store

it says drive like

your kids live

around here

when i see that

sign, i hit the gas

all my kids were

aborted

if they are still

around here

someone has

some fucking

explaining to

do

————————————————

booty shorts

the ugliest people

wear the skimpiest

clothes

first day of the heat

and a fat woman has

on booty shorts where

there is no booty

and then of course

i remind myself

the beautiful people

live south of here

the dregs of society

are still up here

present company

included

————————————————–

gave up on me

went to sleep right

as i heard the news

that the pope had

died

i had a dream the

catholic church

couldn’t find a

new one as all

the pedophiles

knew they couldn’t

take the job

i gave up on religion

right about the time

god gave up on me

more than one christian

has asked me to pinpoint

the moment and i always

say probably when one

too many of you decided

being molested was all

part of god’s plan for me

that hard liners know

they never can change

my mind

the thinkers know there

are much easier things

to think about

—————————————————-

an old man approaching death

i believe my left hip is

nothing but arthritis now

i walk with a limp

not the fucking cool

kind but an old man

approaching death

the spanish princess

offered to take a bath

with me

if either of us could

survive the thousands

of miles between us

it would be worth

every cent and ounce

of pain

these are the nights

i finish a bottle or two

and hope it kills the pain

for a few hours of sleep

yet another day of pop

up thunderstorms and

unrelenting heat

and here i thought

the glory years would

have a better feel to

them

instead, i can’t help

but think of my father

and how that sad sack

of shit was always right

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is trapped in suburbia, slowly dying like everyone else. He’s been widely published over the last 30 years, most recently at Misfit Magazine, Disturb the Universe Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, Mad Swirl and Yellow Mama. He might have a new book coming out soon, at least that is the rumor. You can find him most days betting on soccer and baseball and whatever other sport he thinks he can hit a big parlay on. He also has a blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

Jerome Berglund (italic)

Christina Chin (plain) 

old station

ants around my loafers

at liberty 

a familiar stomp

of tap dance

heat and sweat 

under the parasol

coconut water

vegetable truck 

running interference 

running stream 

the shrills of naked 

native boys

monitoring 

the icebox

mowing grass 

with a reel mower

helping a friend 

relentless positivity 

as praxis

the odds 

of being part of  

the film noir era 

silent movies 

and the tramp

理性  

是否每个人心中的指挥官  

总是指向清晰的正义之路，  

仅由无形的良知北极星所指引？  

有时，自私的黑色磁石  

牵引着指挥官冷静的目光，  

引他走向扭曲的十字路口；  

有时，仇恨与嫉妒的绯红迷雾  

遮蔽了指挥官清澈的双眼。  

在我的大学时代，  

当疾病如烈焰般爆发，  

我多次跨过黑暗的门槛；  

抑郁的惊涛骇浪  

将指挥官推下无尽的悬崖。  

啊，神圣的造物主，  

愿你所立的这位静默船长的心  

永远如夜空的星辰一般闪耀，  

不被病态自我的黑暗玷污划伤。  

在生命的狂风暴雨中，  

将他牢牢锚定在正义的基石上。

Reason

Does the commander in everyone’s heart

Always point to a clear and righteous path,

Solely guided by the invisible North Star of conscience?

At times, the black magnet of selfishness

Draws the commander’s calm gaze,

Leading him down twisted crossroads.

At times, the crimson mist of hatred and envy

Clouds the commander’s clear eyes.

During my college years,

When the disease flared like a fierce flame,

I crossed the threshold of darkness many times;

The fierce waves of depression

Pushed the commander off the endless cliff.

O divine architect,

Let the heart of this quiet captain You have established

Always shine like the stars of the night sky,

Untainted and unscarred by the darkness of a sickened self.

In the fierce storms of life,

Secure him firmly to the anchor of justice.

Wansoo Kim (1954) achieved Ph. D. in English Literature from the graduate school of Hanguk University of Foreign Studies. He has published eight poetry books. One poetry book, “Duel among a middle-aged fox, a wild dog and a deer” was a bestseller in 2012. He won the World Peace Literature Prize for Poetry Research and Recitation, presented in New York City at the 5th World Congress of Poets(2004). He published poetry books, “Prescription of Civilization” and “Flowers of Thankfulness“ in America.(2019), received Geum-Chan Hwang Poetry Literature Prize in Korea(2019) and International Indian Award(literature) from WEWU(World English Writer’s Union)(2019). He published “Heart of God” in America(2020). He published an autobiography book, “Secrets and Fruits of Mission” and a poetry book, “Flowers of Gratitude”(2021). He received India’s Independence Day Literary Honors 2021”(2021). He published the Chinese version of his ebook, “Heart of God,” which reached Amazon bestseller #1(2022). He published poetry books, “Captive of Crazy Love.”(2023) and “Teachings of Mother Nature(2024).

Lightning Blossom

When I quietly close my eyes in prayer

Or stroll through the morning forest catching my breath,

Suddenly, a bud of lightning

Blooms in the sky of my heart.

That flower becomes a spring of poetry,

Whispering a new song

Or gently untangling

The knotted threads of my troubles.

A thrilling ripple striking my heart—

Perhaps it is

A shining jewel placed in my heart

By the Master of the universe who breathes wisdom.

This jewel, flown in on a beam of light,

Is a warm proof

That He lives and loves me.

May this mysterious gift dwell often,

Let me pray daily with a burning heart,

And may the jewels He has poured out

Shine for His joy and glory.

Even when the gift hesitates,

I quietly hold in my heart

The mysterious melody

That my beloved will someday sing.

Spirit

The spirit dwelling deep within the body

Hears a whispering voice above the clouds.

The soul breathing alongside the spirit

Is an antenna catching the world’s vibrations.

The soul listens to city noise and crowd murmurs,

The body sways to soft whispers of instinct’s temptations,

So the spirit often misses the Creator’s gentle breath.

Amid the whirlpool of desires stirred by soul and body,

My spirit firmly grasps

The Creator’s shining shield and sword,

And cautiously feels along the path

Opened by the grace and wisdom flowing from His spring.

O Almighty, who fills all things with light,

Do not leave my spirit to its wavering choices,

But guide my spirit with Your hand,

Illuminating the way with a quiet light,

That I may follow wholeheartedly every day.

Embrace my spirit, trembling with unrest,

In Your warm arms like morning sunlight,

And fill it abundantly

With waves of laughter that seep deep within the heart,

And with the hope of sprouts blossoming toward tomorrow.

Conscience

Every time a wicked thought passes,

In the dark forest of my heart,

A chilling blade grazes the flesh,

Passing like a flash of lightning.

Dark clouds gather and weigh upon my mind.

The river within my heart

Is tossed about like a raft in a storm.

Invisible whispers

Come like a gentle breeze

And illuminate the shining path.

The One who quietly guides from above

Is the lighthouse of the soul,

Shining upon us in the dark, a star that guides to truth.

Wandering the alleys of online political news,

As comments overflow with lies and hatred,

My heart is crushed like a heavy stone,

And my pulse leaps erratically like a cricket.

Even amid the flood of evil falsehoods,

With eyes clear as spring water, beholding the truth,

Let me walk according to the will

Of the Creator of all things.

With drops of prayer,

May I cleanse the lighthouse of my soul.

Wansoo Kim achieved Ph. D. in English Literature from the graduate school of Hanguk University of Foreign Studies. He has published 8 poetry books. One poetry book, “Duel among a middle-aged fox, a wild dog and a deer” was a bestseller in 2012. He won the World Peace Literature Prize for Poetry Research and Recitation, presented in New York City at the 5^th World Congress of Poets(2004). He published poetry books, “Prescription of Civilization” and “Flowers of Thankfulness“ in America.(2019), received Geum-Chan Hwang Poetry Literature Prize in Korea(2019) and International Indian Award(literature) from WEWU(World English Writer’s Union)(2019). He published “Heart of God” in America(2020). He published an autobiography book, “Secrets and Fruits of Mission” and a poetry book, “Flowers of Gratitude”(2021). He received India’s Independence Day Literary Honors 2021”(2021). He published the Chinese version of his ebook, “Heart of God,” which reached Amazon bestseller #1(2022). He published poetry books, “Captive of Crazy Love.”(2023) and “Teachings of Mother Nature(2024).

WHEN EVENING COMES

When evening comes,

My morning revolution subsides

I live in my mother’s lap.

My scattered tresses arrange it

In a spring braid

Swim in her eyes and read the boat

And the lifetime oars

I accepted it and I repeat it for her ten

Scatter it on the hands and the corner

When evening comes,

I love my mother and her survivors.

The words of a poet taking her first steps

In words and prose whenever evening falls.

***

Poem (judgment in a rejected case)

Algerian poet Turkia Loussif

The lawyer collected my case papers

And he said: your case is rejected.

The judge will reject it

And the offender rejects it

And the violinist rejects it

Your crime, Ma’am, is that you dropped the victim.

Your crime ma’am what happened to him

Crazy singing

Crazy writes love words

I said, “I’m innocent, sir.”

And the rain showers are witness

And my broken rain

And my short skirt

And my hair flowing

Witnesses, sir.

We didn’t see the victim.

The lawyer returns and checks the papers.

He found a poem he read.

She shivered and shouted, “I’m accused!”

The lawyer read …

She dragged my killer and her broken emollient

I got wet and squeezed the skirt

Slim figure, wet butterfly

Jana Haha trembling and eulogizing

I dried it and gave it my perfume

I perfumed and strutted and left

My perfume draws me to it

The thief of my heart shivered wet

And I shivered in hope

And my perfume is a witness to it

___

DON’T LEAVE…

Don’t leave

The soul accompanies you

And you slip from me

I’m the dead woman.

After counting the steps of departure

Don’t leave…

The Miqat is October

Leaf I was flowering

Until

Don’t leave.

All the seasons you were with me

And leave

In my last chapters

After inhaling all the winds

Console me now, don’t you fool around?

My tears dried up

My soul is burned

You made me a graveyard for my sorrows

And to whine

Don’t leave.

WITH A DRY OLIVE BRANCH CARVED A SPEAR

With a dry olive branch carved my spear

And I call Nidal and Basil and Marai

I am the sculptor, spears and conquerors

And I am the shooter and I am the one who is right with my spear

Shrapnel and shrapnel in Gazaya

And the three of us were in a holy wrath.

Guys and guys and they are like me

Spears and spears in the breasts of Moshe

The spears fell and they fell,

And the three of us fell with the coffin.

And the dry olive branch remains in my palm.

_________________

Delightful butterfly 

I ask her, why are you hovering around me!?

Her eyes speak green. 

You land on the dry branch!! It is affected 

She sheds dew from her eyes on yellowish paper

I see you my mother and the world remembers me and more

You look like a big butterfly, even more. 

She was delightful and you were the youngest cheerful 

Did I answer your question? 

Tell me how were you 

And where are the butterflies in the flowering field? 

 Showed the cheerful great influence  

And she moved her wings. 

  The weight of her wings    

And her eyeballs were teary

I’m no longer the cheerful butterfly. 

Be the cheerful butterfly. 

The field is green 

And the cast is red 

And the dew is dripping 

Stay away from my dry branch and more 

 Threads weave and multiply 

And wrap you around like me. She was looking.

More of Turkia Loucif’s work here.

Loucif is an Algerian writer who grew up in a family of many members and lived in a house left over from the houses of French centenarians in the neighborhood of arches. Her passion began with telling oral stories to her two sisters before bed, her mother realized her talent and she loved nature, flowers and squirrels, she frequented the school library and read novels in French. She dreamed of becoming a journalist and used to take this profession as a child, she used to make her notebook a microphone and talk to some of her family members. Her writing style caught the attention of her teacher, who registered her in a literary competition and won first place at the age of 12.  

She published the novel “The Legend of the Squirrel” in 2016. Another novel “Virginia Park” was published in 2018. She published her first short story collection “Aboud Cannot Endure the Whip” in 2021. Her play “Dance of the Puppets” was adapted from her story “The Puppeteer Moussa and the Others.”   

The Squirrel was a bestseller with Golden Jerusalem House, which accompanied the author over nine years of participation in book fairs. This novel was selected in the literature of young people through a competition in which the participants of the Ajlana Library participated and in which a boy and two girls won. As for her collection of short stories, she presented critical readings by critics from Algeria and the Arab world. Among her global achievements is the book Together All of America by the American principled writer Kogetim Hadjari, which she considers Turkish in her honor.

Currently, she is a writer and has a fictional novel The Legend of a Squirrel published in 2016 and signed in front of readers at the International Book Fair in 2017, then presented a romantic novel entitled Virginia Park, then presented her collection of stories Abboud does not bear the whip. Currently she works in the field of cultural journalism in Al-Masar Al-Arabi newspaper.

She won second place in the Arabic Story Competition by the “Narrators Sing” club. Her story “The Squirrel” won first place in the “Tell, Scheherazade” story competition. She received honors on Press Day from the Governor of the state of Médéa. She was honored in children’s literature with a squirrel statue for her novel “The Legend of the Squirrel” in June 2024 by Dar Kuds.

For HDC

Grief is a stupid thing.

I grieve that you’re not here to grieve

all the corpses in the water.

All the corpses we’ve built out of laws

that say you don’t belong.

The Heroism of Shiroq

Throughout history, many nations have sacrificed their lives for their people, freedom, and homeland. Among them, the Saka tribes who once lived in the ancient Aral Sea region rightfully deserve a place. In particular, the clash with the Persian king Darius I and the bravery of Shiroq reflect the courage of this people.

In the second half of the 6th century BCE, a powerful empire emerged in the Near East — the Achaemenid Empire. Its founder Cyrus II, followed by his son Cambyses II, and later his grandson Darius I, continued the policy of expanding the Persian state. The next target of their expansionist campaigns became the land of the Saka.

At that time, the Saka were free and warlike tribes living in the Aral Sea region, along the Syr Darya River and surrounding territories. They stood out for their strong cavalry forces, deep connection to their homeland, and independent worldview. The Persians sought to conquer these lands, but the task proved far from easy.

According to Herodotus, Darius I launched a major campaign against the Saka. However, during their march across deserts and rivers, the Persian army encountered severe hardships. Rather than engaging in open battle, the Saka responded with cunning and mobile tactics — luring the invaders deeper into their homeland while gradually depleting their forces along the way.

It was during this very campaign that the legendary act of Shiroq — inscribed in golden letters in history — took place. According to legend, Darius’s army lost its way in the desert. They captured a local Saka named Shiroq and demanded he lead them to water. But instead of betraying his homeland, Shiroq deliberately guided the enemy deep into the heart of the desert — toward destruction. Exhausted by hunger and thirst, the Persian army was forced to retreat. Shiroq, by sacrificing his life, saved his homeland.

This act of heroism proves how one person can change the fate of an entire nation. In the image of the Saka people, Shiroq became immortalized in history as a brave son who gave his life for his land and people. His courage represents the highest form of valor.

The Saka’s success in this campaign was the result of their bravery, patriotism, and unwavering devotion to freedom. They defended their independence not through brute force, but with wisdom, courage, and unity. Today, we must view this historical event not merely as a tale from the past, but as a lasting example of our ancestors’ heroism.

The lesson is clear: history is a cry from the past. It reminds us — “Never forget whose descendants you are.”