MARLOVIAN OVER-REACHER IN THE LUXURY RAUNCH OF DEVIL

Dr. Jernail Singh Anand

John Milton wrote ‘Paradise Lost’ to justify the ways of God to man. The man that we meet in Eden has now stumbled into the 21^st century but his reluctant preference for the tree of knowledge has now become a passionate quest into the unknown.  And we are face to face with several existential questions whose answers no thinker has provided till date: Can man know everything? Can he possess the ultimate knowledge? Is the physical world the only world about which man should know? What about the invisible forces which control men? Can AI bring to man insights into those realms which have been held sacrosanct till today?

In one of my poems, Godrok, which won me the title of the Grok Star from the xAI, I have shown how AI is helping Yama also in creating charge sheets, and serving them while man is still on the ventilator itself, and instead of death taking him into oblivion, the AI reconstitutes him on the hospital bed, into a small child, and is handed over to his new parents, with his entire memory reset.

With technological advances like Grok, we see technology running ahead of man. If we look at it dispassionately, advances in science and technology are meant to make life more livable, comfortable, and easy, so that most of the human jobs are taken up by technology, leaving time with man, to devote to his mental and moral upliftment, or it can be better described if we say, to bring him into a state of bliss, from where he had digressed.

The Limited Existence

Man is not bad, nor evil intentioned. Only he is crazy, and he forgets his limits. He forgets he has a body which has been forestalled from evolving beyond a certain point. He has eyes which have a limited vision. He has arms which do not extend beyond two feet. How big are his hands and fingers? Everything is in a fine balance, so that if even one becomes excessive in size, it will destroy the balance which characterizes the cosmic creation.

It is often said ‘A little knowledge is a dangerous thing’. The truth is that Knowledge is a dangerous domain, and one reason why I call so is that Adam and Eve tasted the forbidden fruit at the instigation of Devil. Even today, we are living in that state of curse. The only proposition that emerges is  that we can return to Eden, only if we relinquish all that we have accumulated over the years by way of knowledge?  In other words, we shall have to ‘forget’ our knowledge, and press the ‘reset’ button, and return to the state of original intelligence, i.e. innocence. Only then, we can get back into the realm of bliss which was created by God for his chosen species, homo sapiens.

The Puppet and the Divine Will

It is an accepted truth that everything happens as per the Will of God. If man ate the fruit of knowledge, God created conditions, by sending Satan with an insidious message.  We should remember that although we try our best to say that God is all powerful, omniscient and omnipresent, still, man has been cleverly endowed with a brain and ideas like ‘free will’. These ideas help God to escape all responsibility.  The basic issue is: who provides the stimulus to man to undertake various deeds. Moreover, if we compare life to a film or a play, we shall have to accept that there is a director, and a script writer too, and men are mere actors who cannot trespass their script. It means whatever man does is already scripted and he is being supervised. In this way, it becomes clear that all that is happening is God’s will, and man is an intelligent puppet only.

The puppet is ‘intelligent’ because man is imparted a false feeling of self-importance, that he can do this or do that. Facts are disturbing. Man has no power over his birth. He has no power over the skin of his colour, his parents, the place where he will be born, and whom he will marry and where and how he will die. This shows that all these things are like different roles which have been prewritten. Otherwise, you won’t be on the stage.

In a drama, the director is invisible. We feel characters are acting on their own. In real life too, people seem to be acting on their own, while the fact is: they are helpless before an overriding fate.  There are  thousands of strings which control their actions, and the most surprising thing about human life is we have no idea who is pulling them. We think we are doing everything after brainstorming sessions. And thus, when some good takes place, we garland ourselves. But when something goes amiss, we curse fate. This shows that we accept we are being controlled by a superior force. But here is a catch too. When gods see people engaged in minor ego scuffles, they leave them to their fate. God gives them a long rope, and they strangle themselves to death. Getting free of them, gods go only after people who are meant to move the earth; on whose deeds depends the future architecture of human race.

It is not that we are being controlled, there are theories [Stephen Hawking’s Fermi Paradox] which show that what is happening to us now, the way things are unfolding, might have taken place, on some other planet, years ago. In the planetary world, where objects are situated millions of light years away from each other, it is not possible that things that happened there a year or two back are now unfolding on this earth.  After such speculations, the questions gain more density: Do we go anywhere after death? I wonder if we really go anywhere.  Going under the earth does not mean extinction. Losing the body and the bones does not mean the end of man. It is a cycle. Death is an illusion which keeps men on tenterhooks.

Justifying Ways of Man to God

Let me get back to my original quest to justify the ways of Man to God. We respond to our changing needs as times change,  and relocate the social structures  accordingly. AI too is the need of this fast generation.  It is a great achievement of human mind, but let me alert you once again, we are navigating in the ocean of knowledge, and it was something God never wanted man to wade in. We have lost our innocence, and our bliss too. But, it is a paradox and a big surprise too, that it has never occurred to us for generations, and the sermonacs too are reluctant to point out this flaw of our civilization which is ‘progressing’ [?] on the wheels of knowledge. Where is it going? Away from its source? Shall it never return?

As pointed out earlier, we are imprisoned in our identity and nature blesses us with certain faculties which are essential to our existence, so that there is a working human being. With AI, we have crossed through the tight borders of reality and now, we can move at a faster pace, look far into planets, and think much faster. It is a feel good factor of our civilization, no doubt, but we shall soon start feeling that this artificial world is too much with us, and we shall start looking for our ‘self’ lost somewhere  in this melee of thrills and a sense of artificial achievement.

The Alert

With AI and its ready powers, man has proved that he can create a world of artificial reality, which runs parallel to the original creation of God.  But the only difference is that it lacks spontaneity that marks the divine creations. God, as I can see, is happy that if man took the path of knowledge, he has done so well. He is happy with man’s creative and inquisitive powers. But, we should not forget that God never wanted us to digress into Knowledge. God made it into a matter of choice. And even today, no God ever comes to life to force us into decisions we don’t want to take. He actually permitted us to create our own world with powers of the brain. So all this empire of knowledge, which is a creation of man’s choice, actually  stands on the wrong side of things.  It has a devilish imprint because it was Satan who had initiated man into the world of Knowledge, which was a moral and spiritual deviation. Now, we have taken this moral digression to the heights of non-creative imagination and are blindly following the agenda of corporates who have grabbed all centres of Knowledge. Holy knowledge which came from scriptures fell into the hands of quacks while the knowledge that man has now accumulated is also not neutral. It has an inbuilt mission to divest man of his divinity. Bliss, joy, happiness, are the byproducts of Innocence, towards which we possess neither any reverence, not any inclination.  We prefer to remain acquiring knowledge which is an endless pursuit into the realms of nothingness.

Picnicing in the Pleasure Dome of Devil

As I said, we are treading on dangerous ground already, because it’s devil’s luxury raunch where we are camping now. In the first instance are we aware of it? If so, do we really want to renounce these joys and go back to Eden? The condition for entering the tents of God is: emptying this mind of everything we accumulated by way of Knowledge at the behest of Devil [sorry to infer]. Return to Innocence and Bliss  it seems is a dream no infected mind will entertain.

If we want that God should own us, [how many of us really want?] we shall have to surrender all our knowledge, and embrace wisdom, and use this knowledge for the welfare of mankind.  It is not that man disobeyed God. It was a rehearsed act. God gave man a very long rope. It is for us that we do not let this rope go round and round our neck, in the name of liberty [free will]. We should not forget that God loves his Satan too, because it is his police that strikes and brings to account people who err on the path of duty. Still, God waits for man to return to the divine fold, forsaking all his knowledge, artificial or original, because there [in His Golden Tent]  we do not need it. Here too, we did not need so much. We actually overdid ourselves. AI is a Marlovian overreach for man, if he does not realize its evil potential, and surrender his knowledge to divine wisdom.

Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, [the Seneca, Charter of Morava, Franz Kafka and Maxim Gorky award and Signs Peace Award Laureate, with an opus of 180 books, whose name adorns the Poets’ Rock in Serbia]]  is a towering literary figure whose work embodies a rare fusion of creativity, intellect, and moral vision.

Walking Without You

When you passed, thoughts of you only occupied my mind.

I held my pillow at night tightly, and during the day,

I busied myself tirelessly to keep from falling apart.

People say you feel like your heart is going to break.

Mine broke into such small pieces that I wondered 

if it would ever be put together again.

I would look up at the sky at night sadly.  

The stars used to make my wishes come true, 

and the moon used to make me feel hopeful.  

But then, they brought only memories of us.

The sun, I hoped, would warm me, 

also turned away, leaving me cold inside.

I thought I would shrivel and die with you.

You could not run to me as I held out my arms. 

Only in my dreams could I find you.

In my sleep, you wiped away my tears.

The presence of your spirit still wraps around me

when I miss you most.  

Years later, I now think of you without such sadness

and bask in beautiful memories of us together instead…

Even though I am walking without you.

__________

Love is Perfect

You need never give up your life

nor give up all wins or costs for me

For no monetary value can be placed on love

And in the end, riches will mean nothing… 

Only love will remain and never die

because my destiny you are 

What God puts together can not be shaken

For it is through him that all good things come

In this life, things are given and taken away

And even a heathen can change his life

For love is perfect, and our prayers were answered

on the day we met, and will certainly remain far beyond death.

_________________________

Kristy Ann Raines was born Kristy Ann Rasmussen in Oakland California, in the United States of America.  

She is an accomplished international poet and writer.  Kristy has two self-published books on Amazon titled, “The Passion within Me”, and  an anthology of epistolary poems, written with a prominent poet from India, Dr. Prasana Kumar Dalai, titled, “I Cross My Heart from East to West”.

She has one children’s short story book coming out soon, titled “Tishya the Dragon”, and a few other children’s stories to follow. 

Kristy is also working on finishing two very special fantasy books that have been in the works for quite a few years, titled “Rings, Things and Butterfly Wings” and “Princess and the Lion”. 

She is also writing her autobiography titled “My Very Anomalous Life”.  

It is her life story that few know about, and the many transformations she went through.  She reveals every interesting and sometimes tragic aspect of her life. She shares her failures, victories, tears, joys, losses, heartbreaks, and how she changed, by the grace of God. 

A loving family and how two wonderful children stood by her through her transformation to who she is today.

Kristy has received numerous awards for her distinctive writing style and her work as an advocate and humanitarian around the world.

Kristy also enjoys painting, making pottery, writing song lyrics, and being with her family.  

She is married, has an older brother and sister, two wonderful children, and is a proud grandmother of three beautiful granddaughters. with one great-grandchild on the way! 

Current Issues in Philology and Challenges in Its Teaching: Towards a Renewed Pedagogical Paradigm

Bahodirova Odina Azamat qizi

Uzbekistan State World Languages University

English first faculty

Phone number: +998944280144

Email : bahodirovaodina72@gamil.com

Abstract: This paper examines the current state of philology as an academic discipline, highlighting its evolving relevance and the multifaceted challenges encountered in its instruction. While philology traditionally encompassed the study of language in historical and literary contexts, modern transformations in communication technologies, global education trends, and interdisciplinary research have reshaped its scope and pedagogical demands. The study outlines key concerns such as diminishing student interest, marginalization of classical languages, lack of technological integration, and outdated curricula. In addition, it discusses the insufficient training of philology educators and the institutional neglect of humanities in favor of more “practical” disciplines. Drawing on comparative analysis and educational reform theory, the article proposes several strategies to revitalize philological studies, including curriculum modernization, digital literacy enhancement, interdisciplinary collaboration, and policy advocacy. Ultimately, the paper argues for a renewed understanding of philology as a dynamic, culturally enriching, and intellectually rigorous field that can meaningfully contribute to contemporary scholarship and education.

Keywords: philology, teaching challenges, classical languages, digital transformation, interdisciplinary studies, educational reform, curriculum design, linguistic diversity, cultural heritage, critical pedagogy.

Philology, long considered the bedrock of humanistic scholarship, involves the meticulous analysis of texts, languages, and cultural expressions across different historical periods. It integrates various domains of inquiry—linguistics, literary criticism, cultural history, semiotics, and philosophy—to provide a comprehensive understanding of how language both shapes and reflects human experience. At its core, philology is not merely the study of language structures but a profound engagement with the intellectual and cultural legacy embedded in textual traditions. Historically, philology played a central role in the formation of modern academic disciplines. During the 19th and early 20th centuries, it was a dominant force in European universities, providing the methodological foundations for the study of classics, comparative literature, and historical linguistics. It enabled scholars to reconstruct lost languages, interpret ancient manuscripts, and trace the genealogies of ideas and literary forms. The contributions of philologists have been instrumental in preserving cultural memory and fostering intercultural understanding across generations.

However, in the 21st century, philology faces an identity crisis brought about by a range of internal and external factors. The rise of digital media, globalization, and shifting educational paradigms has profoundly transformed how knowledge is produced, transmitted, and valued. As a result, philology is often perceived as an antiquated discipline, disconnected from the pragmatic demands of contemporary society and job markets. The decline of interest in classical languages, the marginalization of textual analysis in favor of empirical or data-driven research, and the reduction of humanities funding further exacerbate this marginalization.

Furthermore, the specialization and compartmentalization of academic knowledge have contributed to the fragmentation of philology into subfields that often lack communication with one another. Literary studies, applied linguistics, and historical linguistics now frequently operate in isolation, diluting the integrative spirit that once defined philological inquiry. This disintegration poses a serious threat to the discipline’s coherence and pedagogical effectiveness. Yet, philology remains uniquely positioned to offer critical insights into language change, cultural continuity, and the intellectual heritage of civilizations. In an age marked by linguistic homogenization and cultural commodification, the tools and perspectives of philology are more necessary than ever. To reclaim its relevance, the discipline must not only reassess its methodologies but also embrace new pedagogical strategies, technological innovations, and interdisciplinary collaborations.

Philology, as a discipline concerned with the critical study of texts and languages in their historical development, has undergone significant transformations. Once central to intellectual life, philology now contends with marginalization in an era dominated by STEM priorities and utilitarian educational policies. The traditional focus on classical languages and ancient texts has been replaced or de-emphasized in favor of fields deemed more “market-relevant.”

The rise of digital technologies and global communication has also reshaped textuality itself. Texts are now multimodal, hyperlinked, and collaborative, challenging philologists to expand their analytical frameworks. This evolving textual ecology requires a methodological shift from static, print-centered approaches to dynamic, interdisciplinary strategies that include digital humanities, corpus linguistics, and media studies. Failure to adapt risks rendering philology obsolete in the eyes of students and policymakers alike.

Furthermore, the disciplinary fragmentation of linguistics, literary studies, cultural studies, and philosophy has weakened philology’s integrative identity. Each sub-discipline has developed its own methods, terminology, and institutional structures, often at the expense of holistic inquiry. Reintegrating these domains under a renewed philological paradigm is essential for restoring the coherence and vitality of the field.

Many philology curricula still rely on traditional syllabi that emphasize memorization, grammar translation methods, and the study of canonical texts without fostering critical engagement. This approach fails to resonate with contemporary learners, who often seek relevance, creativity, and interdisciplinarity in their education. The lack of incorporation of current global issues—such as multilingualism, language endangerment, postcolonial theory, and digital literacy—further distances students from the discipline. Moreover, the teaching of philology is often disconnected from contemporary linguistic realities, such as language contact, sociolects, and the evolution of internet language. Without contextual grounding in real-world linguistic phenomena, philological studies risk appearing antiquated and detached from lived experience.

The waning institutional support for classical languages (e.g., Latin, Ancient Greek, Sanskrit, Old Turkic) poses a grave threat to philological research. These languages are not merely vehicles of historical knowledge but are also essential for understanding foundational texts of civilizations. Simultaneously, many indigenous and minority languages—rich in oral and literary traditions—are underrepresented in philological study due to linguistic prejudice, limited resources, or geopolitical marginalization.

Neglecting these languages not only undermines cultural diversity but also diminishes the epistemological breadth of the discipline. The revitalization of endangered and marginalized languages must become a core concern of modern philological inquiry and teaching.

Another critical issue lies in the insufficient professional development of philology educators. Many instructors lack access to contemporary teaching methodologies, technological tools, and interdisciplinary frameworks. As a result, teaching often remains didactic and monologic, leaving little room for interactive or student-centered learning. Moreover, institutional frameworks frequently deprioritize philological programs in budget allocations, research funding, and hiring decisions. This structural neglect discourages young scholars from entering the field and limits opportunities for curricular innovation. Reversing this trend requires a strategic revaluation of the humanities within university governance and educational policy.

While the digital humanities have made notable progress, philology as a whole has been slow to adopt digital tools. Resources such as digitized corpora, text-mining software, annotation platforms, and digital archives offer unprecedented opportunities for analysis and pedagogy. Yet, these remain underutilized in most philological programs.

Incorporating these tools not only enhances the analytical capabilities of students and researchers but also opens new avenues for collaboration and public engagement. A digitally literate philologist is better equipped to navigate and interpret the complex textual landscapes of both the past and the present.

To align with contemporary academic and social contexts, philology curricula must be restructured to include modern literary and linguistic theories, cross-cultural textual studies, and thematic modules focused on topics such as identity, power, gender, and translation. Comparative studies across languages and cultures should be emphasized to promote intercultural literacy and global awareness.

Additionally, integrating modern languages and vernaculars into philological research can bridge the gap between classical and contemporary linguistic inquiry, thereby expanding the discipline’s relevance and reach.

Philology must reclaim its role as a hub of interdisciplinary exchange. Collaboration with fields such as anthropology, sociology, history, political science, and information technology can enrich philological analysis and broaden its impact. Joint programs and research projects that blend textual scholarship with empirical methods and digital tools can foster innovation while preserving core philological principles.

A reformed philological pedagogy should prioritize active learning strategies—such as close reading workshops, textual reconstructions, translation laboratories, and dialogic seminars. Students should be trained not only to interpret texts but also to question the epistemological assumptions underlying those texts and their own interpretive processes.

This reflexive approach cultivates intellectual autonomy, ethical sensitivity, and historical consciousness—qualities that are vital in both academia and civil society.

Adopting digital platforms such as TEI (Text Encoding Initiative), Voyant Tools, and online manuscript repositories can revolutionize how philological data is accessed and analyzed. Teaching students how to use such tools fosters digital literacy and provides them with practical skills applicable in diverse career paths.

Universities and research centers should invest in infrastructure, training, and open-access initiatives to democratize access to philological resources and enhance the visibility of the discipline globally.

Philology, though often perceived as a relic of classical scholarship, continues to hold immense relevance in understanding the linguistic, cultural, and intellectual trajectories of human societies. Its interdisciplinary nature allows for deep engagement with texts—not merely as linguistic artifacts, but as repositories of worldview, identity, and historical memory. As such, philology is not a discipline bound to the past; rather, it offers tools for critical reflection that are vital to navigating the complexities of the present and the uncertainties of the future.

Nevertheless, the contemporary academic and educational landscape poses significant threats to the sustainability of philological inquiry. Institutional neglect, the dominance of market-driven educational models, and the waning popularity of humanities subjects have led to declining enrollments, reduced research funding, and curricular marginalization. Compounded by inadequate pedagogical innovation and technological lag, these factors have created a crisis of identity and purpose within the discipline.

However, these challenges should not be viewed as terminal, but rather as catalysts for reform. This paper has argued that philology can—and must—adapt to contemporary realities through a multifaceted strategy. Key among these are the modernization of curricula to reflect current linguistic and cultural concerns, the incorporation of digital tools to enhance research and pedagogy, and the promotion of interdisciplinary collaboration to bridge gaps between traditional and emerging fields of knowledge.

Moreover, re-centering philology in educational policy discussions is essential. Institutions must recognize that philological education fosters not only linguistic and textual competence, but also critical thinking, ethical reasoning, and cultural literacy—skills that are indispensable in today’s interconnected and rapidly evolving world. Investments in faculty development, student engagement initiatives, and public humanities projects can help revitalize the discipline and reaffirm its societal value.

In conclusion, the future of philology depends on our collective willingness to reimagine its role within modern academia and beyond. By embracing innovation while remaining faithful to its intellectual foundations, philology can once again serve as a bridge between disciplines, cultures, and generations—ensuring its enduring relevance in both scholarship and education.

References

1. Pollock, S. (2009). Future Philology? The Fate of a Soft Science in a Hard World. Critical Inquiry, 35(4), 931–961.

2. Turner, J. (2014). Philology: The Forgotten Origins of the Modern Humanities. Princeton University Press.

3. Byram, M. (2013). Language teaching and intercultural competence. Multilingual Matters.

4. Hafner, C. A. (2017). Reimagining language pedagogy in the digital age. Language Learning & Technology, 21(1), 1–15.

5. McCarty, W. (2011). Digital Humanities and the Future of Philology. Literary and Linguistic Computing, 26(4), 409–424.

Before the Final March

Dear Love,

The stars shine too brightly here tonight—

just like they did the night we met.

The sky is calm, almost too calm,

as if it’s holding its breath for the storm to barge in.

And yet I lie here in the open,

savouring the silence for the first… and maybe the last time,

wishing you were beside me.

Life never seemed so precious until today.

We received word—we might not win.

Still, I promise you:

we’ll give it our all, even if it means giving up our lives.

And yet, the air doesn’t feel heavy.

Maybe it’s because I’m too light.

I may not live to see tomorrow’s night.

So, forgive me for spending every last precious second thinking of you—

so close in my heart, yet so far in reach.

Are you awake now?

Are you under the same sky,

looking at the stars the way I’m looking through them—searching for you?

I wish I’d memorized you better.

Your soft brown waves, how they used to fall across your eyes,

the way your laughter lingered on your lips after I kissed you—

those are the only things I’ll carry with me,

beyond the end.

Funny how I’ve bled in battle,

but nothing hurts like bleeding on paper.

But this—this letter—is my soul, laid bare for you.

Be strong, my darling.

Even when I’m gone, I’ll live in these folded lines,

watching from the stars,

guarding your smile.

It’s raining now.

Does time ever feel guilty for all it steals from us?

Maybe even the sky wants me to say goodbye.

If there is a life after this,

I’ll find you—I promise.

And I’ll spend forever making up for this stolen time.

Take care of my better half—

I’m leaving it with you.

I will always be close.

Always.

Adieu, love.

The tears that stain this page—

they are the only ones I’ve ever shed.

Not from sorrow…

but from joy—

that I had you, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Yours always,

One Man Army

The Girl Who Never Died

The grey sky wept louder than any crowds ever could.

A blackened coffin lay still beneath the withering roses.

No one mourns her but silence itself — the only one who ever knew her.

I stand by the grave, a stranger in my own story.

The girl in the coffin looks like me — only softer, calmer, stilled.

A shroud of sorrow, regrets, and betrayals hugs her tight.

I weep without tears — trust me, she’s done it all her life.

Her eulogy speaks of dreams made of broken, bloodied wings.

How do you mourn someone who still breathes beneath your skin?

She never asked for much — only to be seen, loved, and understood.

In return, she gave it all: her softest heart, its steady beats made of trust,

hope, empathy, and so much more.

But they cracked her open like porcelain —

her shattered pieces bled until there was no more.

Yet her smile never faltered…

until the world quietly erased it too.

So I bury her with every ‘sorry’ I never received.

I know she forgave — until she forgot herself completely.

Her eyes remain open wide with trust.

Mine — hollow.

I reach for my past self’s hand — one last time,

as a flower blooms, sealing wounds that once gaped wide.

The Earth closes above her… and I open within.

She died unknown, unheard —

but I rise from her ashes, stronger than ever.

“I won’t forget you,

but I will not become you again.

Rest now, far from pain.”

That’s all I say,

before I walk away.

Where Silence Begins

The days slipped by—slowly, steadily,

like raindrops tracing forgotten paths down a glass,

and all I could do was watch.

Time, silent and sharp as frost,

unfurled its shadowed wings,

stealing all I held close—

moments, faces, laughter lost to wind—

until nothing remained

but this hollow ache.

Empty.

Alone.

Afraid.

I don’t fight anymore.

I am tired—bone-deep, soul-worn tired.

Weary, like the moon, hollowed by sleepless nights.

Maybe…

it’s time for rest.

Not sleep, but something softer—

eternal, gentle rest.

So—adieu, my dearests, my darlings.

This is not where the story ends.

We will meet again,

somewhere beyond the bend of time,

where stardust sings and silence cradles the broken whole.

But for now,

I must go.

Time beckons like a tide that will not wait.

Let not your tears fall for me—

they ache deeper than you know,

like salt on an open wound.

As I sail toward the golden light,

a hush fills the sky.

I turn for one last glance—

the world a blur through tear-stained lashes—

and bless them

with all I have left—

and more.

“Goodbye,” I whisper,

as my hand slips from theirs…

And I drift—

not falling, not flying—

just fading,

into the abyss.

Unknown.

Unspoken.

Unheard.

But never… unloved.

***
The cut-throat tale drowns me in blood
A sweet heart gives me a heart attack
My favorite eyes blind me
The future pushes me away
And only the snow supporting cool
Of me

***
The bombs instead of thunder crossed three times as if they had metal fingers. Angels learn to cry. The rain is learning to drip. I teach my thoughts to sleep and flow like water. I teach my saliva to flow. I’m learning to rain. I’m learning to cross my fingers every time someone dies. My dreams for a nuclear bomb to explode inside me without pain are not feasible. Instead of me, other people who want to live are dying. I am learning to live. I am learning to die. I teach life. I teach death. I teach. I’m studying. I can’t do anything. I don’t know. The angels hit the wrong buttons with their tears and it rains nuclear bombs. My heart stops and the hair on my head freezes in admiration. Groin hair no longer grows. Thoughts no longer grow. I dream that my lover fucked me so hard as if a nuclear bomb exploded in my anus. Teach me to love. I’m learning to die of love. Why am I not able to live with love? My eyes are cloudy. I teach my eyes to see. My eyes are learning to read the gazes of lovers who are no more. I count the trees that are no more. I look at the stones that used to be houses. I am learning the word no. I teach death. I study death. Angels drool and I drink this drool like nectar. The water is tainted with anger. The stone is again a ruin. The stone learns to be silent again. The stone will remain silent until the very end, but then it will be too late. I’m learning to drown myself in peace. I teach stones to be silent. I am learning to be a rock. I am learning to drown. I can heat up. I’m already at the bottom. The water screams everything in the language of dead birds. I swallow sperm in the hope that this is the filling of a bomb. I swallow pills in hope. I teach nuclear bombs to sleep.

***
The bomb didn’t kill you.
Why didn’t it?

I pretend to still love you.
Why?

Happy cards fill my mailbox again.
What’s that for?

Winter is counting down the new year again.
For whom?

***
What to feed the silence with?

My stomach rumbles without your moans
My sperm is empty without your hole
My head bursts like a watermelon
My name is ripped off my passport

[I’ve got your cocaine name scratched into my veins
Oahhh!]

A lonely room turns into a sunken boat
A cemetery crawls out from under the bed
A blanket hides the gray hair that hasn’t appeared yet

Silence is fed with old age that still not come

***
No one is born in a cemetery but I’d like to die in a maternity ward waiting for something new. No one else will be born after me. No one will see the new birth through my eyes. No one will die after I die (at least I won’t see anything else). After I die, I will stop being afraid of death. I will also stop being afraid of life, because life is a slow death. My gills will grow back in the morgue. I’ll turn into a fish and breathe glass emptiness. I’ll be cut into pieces. But who will eat me? Silence. No one asks the fish anything. Night. The fish won’t tell anyone anything. The cast iron board will slowly cover eyes. The fish will float downstream. We are all drowned. We’re all lil’ drowners who’ve overcome the fear of swimming outside the mother’s belly. The cosmos outside the mother’s belly is silent. Space is also a liquid. Space is also a fish. Everything flows. We all flow out. We will never meet each other again. We’ll never find self again. We’ll never press your random button, God. A bird with a beak overflowing with fluid sings softly. Death gives birth to a nothingness. A tree gives birth to a flower.

S Afrose (Sabiha Afrose) from Bangladesh. She is a lover of poetry. Her journey started in August 2020. Gradually it’s turned into her passion. She has achieved many awards as tokens of love.

She has published so many poetry books, all available on Amazon Worldwide and other sites. Her YouTube channel is S Afrose *Muse of Writes* and her Facebook page is Muse of Words by S Afrose.

Her email is sabihapoetryparadise24@gmail.com, sabiha_pharma@yahoo.com

1. Please share your thoughts about the future of literature

The universe is vulnerable. We can’t get the right way. We feel hopeless once. But that’s not the option to move on. Then???

Look at there, the field of literary world. It’s amazing and beautiful. Anyone can get the soothing ray and the expressed way of the hidden mind. There are so many unspoken words. We can easily share this with the aesthetic aroma of the literary world. Don’t believe????

Let’s make a clear picture.  War and war! It’s making the vulnerable and devastated platform overall. What can anyone see or say???
Nothing is in general.

That’s not. We need to aware the people around the world. People only want peace. No more violent arts.

Pls! Stop this war.
Message spreads as the flying saucers. People can know the genuine thoughts at a time. That’s how, the Literature helps.
So, we have to reserve this amazing and magical method after all.

Literature world will be the good messenger to hold all things, without any sort of restrictions; with its artistic essence around the universe.

WHEN DID YOU START WRITING?
***************************

During the time of COVID-19, the total environmental state of the universe was distracted and too much pressurized. The vulnerable time acted as a fume for my journey in the Literature World. I started my work slowly on the online platform. But my love for the literary field was from my childhood.
I love to read poetry and short stories books
Specially science-fiction and detective series.

2 .The Good and the Bad.

Good and Bad- those exist as the dearest peers who fight with each other.

Good: Always shows love. Offers hand of friendship to all.
Spreads the message of heart with love and respect.

Bad: Always comes with a devil’s mirth. Enjoys destroying every beautiful part of the earth. The world should be the hell, without the essence of love and respect.

Oh no!
How pathetic!

Ridiculous this time. The global warming is upright. The ecosystem is falling down.
Early morning losing its beauty. So sad!
Universe is vulnerable with rising power of the global greed.
That’s why, only fighting with power, War, killing people, destroy environment beauty,  technology rampant,,,overall, losing the beautiful paradise by the human greed always.

Good cries and sleeping into a desert.

Bad smiles and enjoying its era with the Demoniors’ mart.

WHO IS WINNING IN NOW-A-DAYS
***********************************
Though Bad is overlapping Good, using its penetrated news around the world,  by global platform; we can’t escape from this situation. We have to ensure that still good is enough for resurrection the bad tempered souls all over.

The literary world has a wonderful power. It can show the possibility and positivity. It showers the petals of sophisticated and dreamy life.
Living beings, all are here.
People we are, have to declare for the good environment to live happily.
We want peace. Don’t spread negative newsfeed. Use your power wisely.
Your power, wisdom, enough to restore the lost rhythms of the earth. Hold the tears and spread and angelic fire.

Definitely good will survive and will hold all under the humanity umbrella,  beneath azure’s hub.

I feel like that. So, I have to use my thoughts of mind, on the pages of the literary world. The power is inevitable.

3. How many books have you written
And where can we find your books?

I have written many books both on Bangla and English, but mostly English poetry books. But there’s a short story book also.
Most of the Bangla books were published in Bangladesh 
There are 35+ published poetry books. All are available on Amazon Worldwide and also other sites as usual.

For example- Woman, The Bride,  Friendship,  A new beginning, Lion’ Roar, Lost Lotus,  Who I Am? Blood Sucker, VIBRANT THOUGHTS, A CUP OF TEA etc.

There’s my YouTube Channel: can access for the quick look at a time- S Afrose *Muse of Writes *, also Facebook page- Muse of Words by S Afrose

Recently, I am working as a part of editorial team. And my successful projects are- VIBRANT THOUGHTS,  A CUP OF TEA, HAPPY NEW YEAR etc.

4. The book. e-book or physical book-
What will be the future?

So many of us, are too busy attending to the prime artifacts of daily life, that’s why e-books are going to be a good way to help people access books and also a part of their rest.

But, paperbacks are always a better option to carry as a gift, and also the best friend for passing some good moments. It also acts as a reflection of the sweet memories. A souvenir for the family members.
Nothing can beat the essence of reading a book, holding it in the hands; turning pages one by one, marking some words as the dearest arts. The precious gem for refreshing the mind overall.

Just imagine,  on the easy chairs or midst the garden in beautiful weather, holding a cup of coffee with the dearest canvas of the words…just wow! This can’t be replaced by an e-book anyway.

5. A wish for 2025
The world is too dangerous for all the vulnerable living beings. The bombastic shimmers can’t be accepted anyway.
* No War* * No Blood*

We all want to live on a peaceful planet.
There should be love within all. Must be the bridge of friendship, wearing the crown of humanity. UNIVERSAL  PEACE – this message is the prime gist now-a-days.

If want to say something, holding the hands of literature; then I have to say that, this Literature World has such a power to spread the message of heart and mind, around the world.

Positive emissions can see. Let’s say and spread- Unspoken words with the power of ink. The universe has to understand and love this passage heartfully. Through starlights of literature,  we can make a friendly world.

A PHRASE FROM YOUR BOOK:
There’s a poetry book of mine: *No War*
I want to say some lines from this one.

“Stop grudges to protect earth for living happily & peacefully “

‘ Have a look
At each nook
When one door is closed,
Anyway will try,
Another will be here,
Hope to see the smile ‘

A poem from the book

THE FLYING BULLET

Love to hear
The lullaby
Of dear parents.

Love?
Can’t hear that song,
This time.

The flying bullet.
Believe or not,
This is not applicable for the minds.

The flying bullet
Now killing
All the people.

No!
We don’t want to see
This nasty game of the bullet.

A BOOK YOU LIKE

I love all of my books. All are my lovely creations. My best friends.  My Reflection of the Mind. So I can’t say anyone specifically. But if want to say now, then will love to share my beautiful soothing charm- A CUP OF TEA .

My dear best friends on this Literature realm have reflected their thoughts, using the magical power of quill. Love for all.
Love the Literature World. Love my dear poetry paradise.

Thank you so much!

EVA Petropoulou Lianou
Author and poet from Greece

The Hairdresser’s Daughter

My mother
Silver hearts in her ears
An apron over her black blouse
Shimmery pink gloss on her lips
With light blonde hair in waves behind her

Holds another’s life in her hands
Bleach on to long and it will never be the same
Flat iron too hot you’ll singe it right of
Cut it to short and that’s months of growth ahead
There are perils to a client and plenty of pitfalls for her hairdresser
Knowing all this I watch in awe
At the easy trust her client bestows
And the gracious elegance my mother receives it with
She is confident she’ll be happy with her hair
And my mother is confident she will make her happy
I am relieved that my job is much simpler.

Face scrubbed clean
Velcro sandals in place
Beaded play bracelet on my wrist
Hair down along my back held in place by butterfly berets
it swishes when I step

I am the sweeper
Although I have many duties as the hairdressers daughter
Fetching clean towels
Holding the mirror steady
My favorite job is getting to sweep
Dark hair recently shorn of, litters the floor
Broom in hand I shape it into a neat pile
Careful not to miss a single strand
This job is important, though discarded every piece carries weight
Each took months to grow and where painstakingly cut
Take it from the hairdressers daughter

Before we even step foot into work we prepare
My mom stands in front of the mirror making a perfect face even more perfect
I thoughtfully weigh out flower or butterfly clip
Butterfly
They have sparkles
And mom says we should try and look our best

At the salon the other stylists
Ashley
High ponytail
Christina
Black short bob
Gwen
Messy bun with a claw clip
Smile when they see me as they set up there stations
Waiting for the beautiful people to come in
Ready to make them even more so

I study the clients carefully as they walk in
What starts out as a half hearted braid shuffling in might leave as a blowout strutting out
Pin straight to a perm
The person entirely changed along with it
But it’s not just how they leave, but what takes place in the chair
That matters

Client #1 is indecisive
She has had practically every color and look under the sun yet still hasn’t found one to wear
longer than a month
Client #2 is old
She is going gray so she’s decided to dye it all silver. That’s aging in style she says
Client #3 is nervous
She has prom coming up and she wants to be perfect
Client #4 is ready
She is going for a promotion at work. She wants to look like a big business lady so maybe she’ll
feel like one

I blame it on the mirrors
You can’t stare at yourself like that for hours and not get to thinking
You can do that at a salon
think
You can count on the hairdresser to talk with if you need it
The hair sweeper to keep things clean
And that when you leave even if nothings been figured out
If nothing’s changed but the hair on your head
You’ll feel a little bit better

Ours Now

We saved the bedroom for last
We said it was because it was in the back of the house
Made sense to start in the entry
The living room
The kitchen
The bathroom
Everything but the bedroom
Anything but the bedroom
Until now
Because even now
With the rest of the house in dumpsters

I open the door
See the bed
And stop
Faded floral sheets tucked in
The white comforter smoothed out
It’s made, The beds made
That’s what’s different
It was never made before
Because she was always in it
I still expect her to be in it
It’s still expected that we
Shuffle in single file avoiding the cups of cold tea
Bunched up tissues balanced on stacks of magazines
Pushing aside odds and ends
To make a path, to the bed
Where she waits with her hand outstretched, spotted and knobbled
Her shock of white hair spread across the pillow like a halo
Drooping eyelids struggling to stay open
I can’t call her fragile
You can’t struggle for that long and be
fragile

She was buried two towns over
But that room
With the vanity now dusty
Crammed full of costume jewelry and expired cosmetics
Overflowing closet with now moth eaten wardrobe
Was her real mausoleum
It was sacrilege to even enter
But we did
We entered with trash bags and gloves and spray cleaner
All because a piece of paper said it was
Ours now
This house that I can only remember a handful of visits too

That the smell of cats and dust and age drove us out off
Was ours
Because it’s what she would have wanted

My little sister said it was haunted
I said it wasn’t
She hadn’t died here after all
She died in a bright white room that smelled of disinfectant
She died surrounded by family
That she couldn’t recognize anymore
But we cried for her anyways
I cried so hard she called me over
Voice slow and drifting
Why are you crying little girl
And that made me sob louder

When we sorted
The trash pile tripling the keep
We didn’t talk
Not when someone stared of in the distance
Or sat and cried
Because if we stopped every time
To feel the cool jade beads of a bracelet she always wore
Marvel at the birthday card we made and for some reason she still kept
Flip through the worn pages of the bible she preached
If we stopped every time the memories were too much to bear
We would never finish.

So we
Peeled away yellowed wallpaper
Pried of sunflower tiles
Pulled up the green carpet
A home turned into a gutted out house
And it was done
Except it wasn’t
Because now we would live here
No point having it sit there empty,
Right

I don’t know when it became our house
It wasn’t when we painted the walls grey
Or put in grey floors
And moved into our grey little house
I wondered if we would always be imposters
Who dared put food in the fridge
And their coats in the closet
Squatters
In a house waiting for its real owner to come back
Home

Lili Lang is 16 years old and lives in California, USA. Lili is a sugar addict who loves all things sweet and spends her time reading and plotting literary world domination. She has her head perpetually in the clouds and is a cat person at heart, or at least she would be if she wasn’t allergic. Lili is a CSSSA Alum and Writegirl Mentee. She is an LA Youth Poet Ambassador.  Her work has been previously published in Under The Madness Magazine and Girls Right The World.