I thank you              

                Father!

(My father is devoted to Rahmiddin!)

Father, your words are bright and kind, 

Your words of wisdom are mysterious and magical,

Your teacher is different-minded,

Thank you, father!

We learned love from you,

We learned knowledge and enlightenment from you.

We learned manners and consequences from you.

Thank you, Father!

He watched us walk the streets,

He corrected our mistake without delay,

The reason is that he gave his gifts,

Thank you, Father!

Rahmiddinova Mushtariy Ravshan’s daughter was born on March 1, 2011 in Gulistan district of Syrdarya region. Now she is a student of the 8th grade. Mushtariy is interested in reading poetry, reading books, drawing. She appeared on television in kindergarten at the age of 3 and is still appearing on television. Participated in the Bilimdon competition. She took the 2nd place in English in the 2nd grade. Participates in many contests and projects. In the future, she will become a dentist. She is preparing for admission. Her dream is to make everyone proud of Mushtariy. She also participated in many anthologies. Participated in webinars.

Tan-Renga 

flood current 

the sampan capsized 

determined

she keeps pushing back 

her hair

burning flags 

and effigies

the protest ends

on an upside

down signpost

piercing cold

I comb through what’s left

of my dream

strangely I can’t 

remember 

———————————————————————

old heaters in the winter

listening to the

sounds of old

heaters holding

on for life

i guess all the

money in these

places go to the

doctors and

insurance companies

—————————————————————–

snow in the forecast

the grocery store was a madhouse today

there must be snow in the forecast

why do all the white cashiers have

bag boys but none of the black

cashiers do

of course, i chose a black cashier

i’m not one of these closet racist

fucks

and she’s pregnant as well, that’s

doubly racist

i was tempted to help her but i

gave in to my evil urge that hopes

we as humans cease to fucking exist

this experiment has gone on long enough

i thanked her as she handed me the receipt

she did a really good job

the arthritis in my left hip kicked in

about 45 minutes earlier

the cold wind did me no fucking favors

soon, i’ll be an old man too damn stubborn

to ask for help loading these bags in the

back of some shitty vehicle begging for

a young soul to come put me out of

my misery

though, there’s enough alcohol in these bags

i just might find the courage to do it myself

——————————————————————

so this is my reality

sometimes the pain is

a constant companion

then, the fucking guest

that will never leave

i have given up on the

chance to ever be pain

free

so this is my reality

how do i get through

each day without getting

derailed by the pain

sure, the drugs help

but they don’t work

all the time

it is a game of chess

in a world of checkers

cheating death every

second of every day

———————————————————-

wholesome

’tis the season

of dysfunction

the myth of

family and

whatever the

fuck else is

wholesome

playing nice

to appease

aging mothers

or the old

grandmothers

that won’t give

in

eventually

we all die alone

it gets easier if

you live that way

as well

or so i am told

——————————————————————–

the kids that never grow up

a blitz of neon

fuck, halloween

isn’t here yet

christmas never

comes too early

for the greedy

kids, of course,

but the fucking

adults

the kids that

never grow

up

consumers

that know

no end

soon the bells

will be ringing

for the poor

the homeless

selling flowers

on the interstate

a hint of snow

in the air

eventually, frozen

bodies on the street…

the holidays

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is biding his time for god knows what. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at The Beatnik Cowboy, Horror Sleaze Trash, Lotherian Poetry Journal, Yellow Mama and The Rye Whiskey Review. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

Christina Chin / Kimberly Olmtak 

a graceful hand

whips the tea

I sip the aroma

the pulled heart on 

matcha latte

spring garden

my small balcony

adorned with sweet alyssum

an enchantress bouquet

bees and butterflies 

sweet pea

a sunseeker

climbs up the trellis

sea breeze and coffee

on the patio

Waves ripple

The dark and the sea

spray surrounds us

as a salt water

sky burst would

We can hear

the rocks below

breaking open

the energy of tides

exhaled from within

plosive as the wind

Iridescent

eyes of wild animals

amid the rain forest

trees

the real ones

and the imagined

carved from wood

or hewed from stone

All the paths forward

are overgrown with

mutating plants

stinging weeds

and poison ivy

pointed stalks

glow-in-the-dark

earthworms are trail

markers showing us

the way

Overcome by weariness

while walking without

a clear sense of purpose

or direction

we sit where the deer

lie down

feel our dreams

become an invasive species

inhabiting all

the exposed places

in our bodies

Lying still is

impossible

Our skin moves

without us

The transition from

sleeping to waking

is inseparable

are two indistinguishable

states

while walking

we enter a maze

of feeling

that seems to be

a physical one

where paths intersect

and lead nowhere

We wonder if there

is a center

if the center will hold

Feral

Other than the argot

infused standing

water

we have had nothing

to eat or drink

for days

Now we know

how it is to be

feral

unsure of what

or when we will

eat next

or if we will be

eaten in turn

We are reluctant

to gorge on wild

fruits and berries

having heard stories

of those who ate them

went mad

and died

We wonder now if any

of the stories

we have heard are true

Christina Chin / Jerome Berglund (italics) 

calm lake surface 

the low clouds touch

white sandy shore

cement truck spinning

weathercock still

the noise 

at every house 

new swallows 

square roots 

doll hair

sneezing

cleaning too much, 

cleaning too little

why is my house 

never clean enough?

+


What  child ?

   I Am  Borne
      Before During & After 
Always
   & Forever 

Why  Child ?

   Yes ,  Speak and receive .
Every Step Begins .

   As pollen upon the 
                wind 
Unforgotten as rains
   drench the reaching
            upstart .
And cries above ending
   find a sky full of Life

                                                        ......................


Completed November 23, 2024
    Saturday evening 
by  John Edward Culp