Poetry from J.J. Campbell

Middle aged white guy in a light colored tee shirt with a long white beard and mustache and messy gray hair and reading glasses in a bedroom with posters on the wall.

——————————————————————–

left to rot in the rain

broken and forgotten

left to rot in the rain

life has beaten all

our asses

put on beethoven

and try to forget

the stack of bills,

the unwanted

pregnancy, too

young to fall

in love, too

foolish to fall

for it yet again

and here comes the

wanna be porn star

every phone making

movies

wish upon whatever

star you like

nothing comes true

anymore

here we go

backwards

yet again

our better angels

must have died

in the storm

laughter is all

we have left

——————————————-

there would be no math

farted so loud

the air conditioner

kicked on

i don’t think the

two are related

prove me wrong

i was told there

would be no math

involved

it never is the heat

but always the

humidity

and mr. monopoly

is trying to rob

my bank yet

again

while the strange

women talk about

passion if you only

could send one

hundred dollars

in bitcoin to them

by the morning

they swear we didn’t

leave this planet

although i certainly

feel like an alien

never an ice cream

truck when you need

it

———————————————-

what greatness is supposed to look like

transient on the highway

shirt off in the heat

looked like hulk hogan

if hogan never did steroids

and lived until the age

of 90

he gave me the finger

as i drove by

obviously, playing

the heel

and somewhere

a woman cries over

the death of a prince

and darkness never

fades

even though the

screams and loud

echoes of thunderous

love will

never let them tell

you what greatness

is supposed to look

like

how it is to feel

or be loved

dare to stand out

so bad they will

never be allowed

to forget you

————————————————-

on your side

one of those nights

you put on the moonlight

sonata and ponder your

own death

the whimsical nature

of depravity

your friends are down

to the single digits

success is just a fucking

dream anymore

but pretend love is real

that karma is on your

side

that all the hard work

will lead to a better

tomorrow

pretend the rain doesn’t

hurt

that yet another broken

promise is just a setback

and not the final kick

to the dick that life has

been teasing since the

last failed suicide

attempt

————————————————–

one july afternoon

lost in your madness

the subtle beauty

of a broken woman

hoping to feel alive

once again

every thrust

every heavy breath

every drop of sweat

every lick of your soul

i could feel your energy

from hundreds of miles

away

the one afternoon that

could possibly change

our lives forever

you are now trapped

in my dreams

the lost soul that i was

so damn lucky to find

now comes the fun part

seeing where love takes

this fascinating ride into

the unknown

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know better. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Disturb the Universe Magazine, Misfit Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, Mad Swirl and Yellow Mama. He is spending most of his days taking care of his disabled mother and betting on Mexican soccer games. He still has a blog but rarely has the time to write on it. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

Poetry from Mesfakus Salahin

South Asian man with reading glasses and red shoulder length hair. He's got a red collared shirt on.
Mesfakus Salahin

‎How Long A Hundred Years Is

‎Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

‎The skeletons of the thirsty night lined

 up

 Contentious  dreams are stolen

‎The shy sky loses its color

‎At the foot of the deserted island.

‎If it lies in the hollow of time, then

‎A human corpse in a human shell!

‎Crawling humanity is ruined totally

‎Sucking up the dead light.

‎The illusion of shadows is trapped in a web of illusion

‎Knotless relationships create storm in a tea cup.

‎In a moment, the best becomes the worst

‎Who is whose? Injustice in wealth is constant

‎Saying ‘this world is mine’ breaks my ribs

‎When will I become civilized?

‎Can any of you tell me

‎When I will truly become civilized?

‎Don’t curse me

‎The soil beneath my feet,

‎The oxygen inside my mouth,

‎The sky over my head.

‎Body odor will not be judged

‎What race? What religion? What planet?

‎Can anyone tell me

‎How long a hundred years is?

Essay from Ermatova Dilorom Baxodirjonovna

Young Central Asian woman with long dark hair and earrings and a brown turtleneck.

National Attire — The Pride of a Nation

Just as every nation has its own customs, traditions, and culture, it also has its unique national attire. This clothing is not merely a garment, but a reflection of a people’s history, aesthetic values, taste, and way of life. That is why national attire is rightly called the pride of a nation.

National clothes are an invaluable heritage passed down from generation to generation. They represent the identity and uniqueness of each nation. The traditional Uzbek attire — made from fabrics like atlas, adras, zarbof, and beqasam, adorned with colorful patterns — beautifully showcases our people’s refined taste and deep appreciation for delicate art.

Uzbek women’s garments stand out for their elegance and ornamentation, while men’s clothing — such as doppis (skullcaps), belbogs (sashes), and yaktaks (robes) — symbolize loyalty, resilience, and honor. Each region’s unique clothing style — the Andijan doppi, Bukhara atlas, Qashqadarya yaktak, and Khorezm’s embellished coats and robes — further enriches our national diversity.

Wearing national dress is not merely about decorating oneself; it is about honoring our history, culture, and values. Today, it is heartening to see our youth wearing traditional clothes during celebrations, weddings, international festivals, and cultural events. This reflects the emergence of a generation that remains loyal to its roots and proud of its identity.

Therefore, as the younger generation, we must cherish our national attire, value it, and wear it with pride. Because national dress is not just fabric — it is the visible form of the love we carry in our hearts for our homeland.

My name is Ermatova Dilorom Baxodirjonovna, born on May 3, 1998, in Asaka district, Andijan region. My family is an ordinary family, and we are five members in total.

My father worked as a brigadier at “GM-Uzbekistan” and is now retired. My mother is a housewife. My older brother works in the press service department at “GM-Uzbekistan.” My younger sister is a second-year student at the “Abu Ali Ibn Sino” Public Health Technical School in Asaka.

I graduated from Asaka district’s 55th general education school in 2015. In 2015, I enrolled in the Pedagogical College in Asaka district, specializing in “Machine Drawing and Painting,” and graduated with a red diploma. Unfortunately, I was unable to continue my education at the university, so after completing college, I submitted documents for external studies at the “Public Health” technical school, specializing in “Nursing.”

I graduated from the technical school with excellent grades and currently work as a nurse at the Asaka District Maternity Complex.

I have many interests, including drawing, making toys and clothes from yarn, creating things from cardboard, and sewing. I also enjoy writing poetry. I never stop learning and working on self-improvement. Currently, I am in the process of learning Turkish and Korean languages.

Poetry from Ilhomova Mohichehra

Respect to the teacher!

Thank you so much, teacher,

You have worked hard.

Always be respectful,

There is no time for fatigue.

Let your hard work be justified,

Let us protect you.

Always smile,

Push the era.

Let us remember you,

Let us enjoy the lessons.

When asked, “Who is your teacher?”,

Let us think of you in our minds.

I have boundless respect for you,

I have not disrespected you.

You who taught us,

Thank you, teacher.

Ilhomova Mohichehra, student of school No. 13, Zarafshan city, Navoi region

Synchronized Chaos Mid-July 2025: Trapped in History

Dark metal statue of a man in rolled-up pants holding a large wicker basket over a wooden crate at night near water, a large ship, and a pier. (South Asia)
Photo by deep Bhullar

“People are trapped in history and history is trapped in them.”

James Baldwin

In this issue, we explore how people are influenced by their times and cultures, and how they learn from and engage with the thoughts of their forebears. Also, we acknowledge the wealth of wisdom and life lessons carried within each person due to the events through which they have lived.

Graciela Noemi Villaverde speaks to the inexorable and irrevocable passage of time.

Amit Shankar Saha writes of then and now, memory and future, remembrance and forgetting, universal human questions. Duane Vorhees’ poetry evokes change, thought, aging, and the creative process.

Stephen Jarrell Williams speaks to memory and the human experience. Eva Lianou Petropoulou speaks to artists and authors’ learning from and being inspired by each other throughout the ages. Writer Rizal Tanjung offers up an existential analysis of Eva Petropoulou Lianou’s poetry.

Giorgos Pratzigos interviews Konstantinos Fais on his artwork and advocacy for rediscovering Hercules and ancient Greek virtues. Muxlisa Khaytbayeva records her grandfather Jumaboy Allaberganov’s memories of knowing famed Uzbek author Omonboy Matjonov as a young adult and discusses Matjonov’s contributions to culture. Shukurilloyeva Lazzatoy Shamsodovna relates her scholarly and personal journey to understanding and illuminating Russian writer Alexandr Faynberg’s poetic legacy and its influence on Uzbek culture.

Painting of a curly haired small child with a green top engrossed in play on the wall of a gray apartment building (Lebanon)
Photo by Antoun Boustani

Kuziyeva Shakhrizoda highlights the Uzbek government’s investment in the nation’s youth and the incredible potential of their young adults. Otaboyeva Khushniya outlines how the psychology of early childhood can inform education. Su Yun collects and translates the work of Chinese elementary school students. O’tkirava Sevinch outlines strategies for learning Mandarin Chinese as a second language and for teaching the language in Uzbek schools. Olimboyeva Dilaferuz outlines verb conjugation rules in the Uzbek language.

Mashhura Farhodovna Joraqulova’s short story encourages students from low-income families to persevere with their education. Sevara Kuchkarova outlines strategies to motivate students to complete work at school. Rashidova Shaxrizoda Zarshidovna honors the life and work of a woman who mentored many of the girls at her school. Dilbar Aminova advocates for a balanced approach to screentime in young children’s lives. Shahnoza Ochildiyeva reflects on the value of her journalism education at an Uzbek university. Xo’jamiyorova Gulmira Abdusalomovna highlights the role of emerging and young poets in Uzbekistan’s national destiny.

Duane Vorhees compares the poetry of Phillis Wheatley and Nikki Giovanni as part of a broader comment on changing Black consciousness in the United States.

Cherise Barasch writes with respect for the hardworking people she observes digging into the earth in the heat. Yongbo Ma brings a poetic and scientific perspective to fog. Sayani Mukherjee contemplates peaceful natural scenes in a reverie. Priyanka Neogi compares accepting life’s changes to living through different seasons and times of day. David Sapp reflects on the transcendent experience of seeing a peacock. Dilnoza Islamova looks to nature’s beauty as an invitation to spiritual faith and practice. Maki Starfield sends up elegant reflections on weather and fruits in Thailand as Maja Milojkovic meditates on sunflowers, existence, and perseverance.

Brian Barbeito lets his mind wander to cosmological and existential places while walking near birds by a lake. Orinbayeva Dilfuza rejoices in the beauty of nature at springtime as Dilobar Maxmarejabova shares the emotional significance of tulips in her life. Don Bormon revels in the fun of rain at school. Mark Young renders up more of his fanciful “geographical” maps of Australian regions. Mathematics is a language we use to describe nature, and Timothee Bordenave discusses how his geometric studies inform his artwork. Mesfakus Salahin speaks to drought in Bangladesh in a meditation on accepting life and nature’s cycles.

Light brown and green metal statues of traditionally dressed Turkish man and woman. Caps, headscarves, vest and dress and petticoat and boots. They're in a misty conifer forest.
Photo by Zehra İslamoğlu

Bruce Mundhenke urges humanity to turn away from hate towards love and acceptance. Vo Thi Nhu Mai illuminates the beauty and communicative power of the craft of poetry.

Leslie Lisbona sends up a childhood memory of having fun dancing to and figuring out rap lyrics. Marjona Baxtiyorovna Jorayeva celebrates sports and their fandoms and their power to bring enjoyment and bring people together.

Shomurotova Sevinchoy reflects on what it means to be a true friend. Munisa Ro’ziboyeva illuminates her appreciation for her mother’s care. Hamroyeva Shahinabonu Shavkatovna highlights the love and care both fathers and mothers have for their children. Rashidova Muallima offers up her love for her mother. Kamoliddin Hamidullah sends us a tender love poem. Thathanhally B. Shekara expresses his joy in romantic union with his beloved. Vo Thi Nhu Mai looks to wind as a metaphor for gentle connection among people.

Artsy photo of sand in a doorway in an abandoned room with sunlight streaming in through windows. White walls with green paint (Namibia)
Photo by Francesco Ungaro

Jim Meirose crafts a surreal piece in the language of fairy tales and dreams. Iduoze Abdulhafiz takes a lengthy journey through the subconscious with a wide selection of words. Dr. Maja Sekulic reviews Dr. Jernail S. Anand’s exploration of artificial intelligence, myth, and morality.

Kholmurodova outlines strategies to bring digital access and economic opportunities to the world’s rural women. Rakhimov Rakhmatullo outlines challenges and solutions for logistics technologies. Sa’dia Alisher outlines some benefits, problems, and challenges from modern digital technologies. Gulnora Rakhimjonovna Khomidova explores the educational potential of artificial intelligence.

Dr. Jernail S. Anand relates how, regardless of the tools we use to craft our work, restraint and discipline can serve as a creative force. Dr. Debabrata Maji highlights the power of perseverance and devotion. Azemina Krehic compares the care she has for her poetic works to the process of washing her clothes on a line. Hassan Mistura speaks to the journey of developing a healthy self concept. Surayyo Nosirova reminds us to let go of the illusion of more control than we have and to stay open to change.

Light skinned woman puts her hand in front of her face reaching out against plastic that partially obscures her. She's got dark hair and a white blouse.
Photo by MART PRODUCTION

Grant Guy offers up stage directions for absurdist theater, an artistic reaction to periods of rapid social change. Ahmed Miqdad speaks to the absurd persistence of normal life amid wartime. Mykyta Ryzhykh, in a similar vein, evokes the quest for queer love and sensuality among bombs and bullets.

Pat Doyne laments violent immigration enforcement overreach in Los Angeles. Otabayeva Khusniya reveals the deeply humane vision of Erkin Vahidov’s work Rebellion of Souls, a tribute to the memory of Nasrul Islam and other artists who died as a result of unjust persecution. Chimezie Ihekuna shares some of life’s paradoxes and urges nations and groups of people to move away from war as a solution to issues. Mahbub Alam also puts out a call for peace, remembering the many people lost to war. Boboqulova Durdona laments the many civilian deaths in Gaza as Stephen House highlights war’s effects on ordinary people, especially children.

Muslima Olimova reflects on surviving an unhappy marriage and urges families to welcome young brides and for women to carefully consider before marrying. J.J. Campbell speaks to the lingering effects of trauma on people and the tension between hope and disillusionment. Dr. Bindu Madhavi speaks to the inner battles many of us fight as Mirta Liliana Ramirez evokes the pain of loneliness.

Light skinned hand reaching out of water, maybe grabbing for rescue? Ring  on the middle finger.
Photo by Luca Nardone

Doug Hawley’s short story presents several characters representing a mix of lawful and roguish motives and actions. Taylor Dibbert’s poem lampoons the worldliness of a priest and the devotion it still inspires. Sarvinoz Sobirjonova Abdusharifova depicts the dual nature of humanity: kindness and cruelty.

Kelly Moyer uses vegetable humor to convey and navigate the experience of chronic illness. Alan Catlin frames evocative images with words, plumbing the imagined photos for meaning.

Mark Blickley, a combat veteran who finished education later in life, reflects on what he gained as a person and an artist from popular literature and reminds the “literary” crowd not to so easily dismiss popular writers.

Poetry from Marjona Baxtiyorovna Jo‘rayeva

Young Central Asian woman with long straight dark hair, brown eyes, a tan coat, white blouse, and small necklace.

I Am a Football Fan

Like many others, I have many interests,
But let me tell you just one of them.
Sitting in front of the television screen,
Watching football—that’s my favorite hobby.

The kings of football: Ronaldo, Messi,
And I’m also a fan of Neymar Junior.
When Marcelo strikes with his amazing shots,
My eyes light up with joy and delight.

Running on a lush green field with the ball—
It’s not easy, facing tough rivals.
When luck is on your side, you score a goal,
But if it’s not, you might not even touch the ball.

Some win, and others lose the match,
Often, the final minutes decide it all.
We share in the winners’ celebration,
And stand by the losers with hearts full of empathy.

It’s not easy for those who lose either,
For behind them stands an entire nation.
Sometimes, we must admit who earned victory,
Sometimes, defeat teaches more to a man.

I mentioned the world’s most famous players,
Spoke of the greats and their shining names.
But truly, let us never forget
The footballers of my own Uzbekistan.

They have skill, courage, and speed,
Win or lose in every game they play.
No matter the outcome, behind them always
Stands the hopeful Uzbek crowd watching with pride.

We have “Jaloliddin,” we have “Abbosjon,”
Carried in every Uzbek’s heartfelt prayer.
May your feet never grow tired on the pitch—
You are tomorrow’s world champions!

Marjona Baxtiyorovna Jo‘rayeva was born on October 18, 2003, in Termiz district, Surkhandarya region.
She studied at School No. 6 in her district from 2010 to 2021. From grades 5 to 11, she actively participated in the “Knowledge Competitions” and “Subject Olympiads” in the subject of Uzbek Language and Literature, winning first place in district-level rounds and becoming a winner at the regional level. She graduated from school with an honors diploma and a gold medal
In 2022, she was admitted to the Uzbek Language and Literature program at the Faculty of Philology of Termiz State Pedagogical Institute on a state scholarship. Currently, she is a third-year student at the institute and also serves as the coordinator of the “Mushoira” (Poetry) Club. In addition, she works as a teacher of Uzbek language and literature at the specialized School No. 12 in Termiz district.
She is a member of the Democratic Party of Uzbekistan “Milliy Tiklanish” (National Revival). She has a good command of both English and Turkish languages and holds a B2 level certificate in Turkish.

Poetry from Mashhura Farhodovna Jo‘raqulova

Young Central Asian woman with straight dark hair and brown eyes. She's in a blue top and black coat and tiny necklace.

In a remote village, in an old brick house, lived a mother and her two children.

The mother’s name was Guzal, and her children’s names were Oysha and Komil.
Their father had left for the city in search of work several years ago and never sent any letters after that.

Every morning, Guzal would take her weaving tool and weave adras cloth,
and in the evening, she would become a mother — telling stories to her children.
They lacked material things, but their hearts were full of hope.

One day, Oysha came home from school crying.
“Mom,” she said, “The teacher said: ‘It’s good to dream, but consider your reality.’
But I was dreaming of becoming a pilot…”

Guzal hugged her daughter tightly.
“My dear,” she said, “On the day you truly dream, even the sky won’t be able to stop you.
Just never stop believing.”

From that day on, Guzal read books to her children every night.
They couldn’t afford to buy books, but the old books in the village library were like treasures to them.

Years passed, and Komil became a doctor.
And Oysha — yes, she really became a pilot.

The first time she flew over their village, she waved at her mother from the plane.
And her mother stood on the ground, in a large flower garden, holding her weaving tool.

There was such a smile on her face —
as if the whole world was smiling back at her.

Mashhura Farhodovna Jo‘raqulova
Born on May 16, 2004, in Termez, Surkhandarya region.
She is a 4th-year student at the Termez State Pedagogical University, specializing in Foreign Language and Literature.