(TIME)
…as time flies fast – unless GOD cuts its wings.
But then time seems to simply start to run
out of space. Time sometimes only brings
slow-motion sighing from the setting sun.
Yes, time can heal; but time can also kill
like a wind blowing out candles. When a rain-
storm starts, you feel all you can feel until
you come to find out if it is in vain…
…as time flies fast – unless GOD cuts its wings. But then time seems to simply start to run out of space. Time sometimes only brings slow-motion sighing from the setting sun. Yes, time can heal; but time can also kill like a wind blowing out candles. When a rainstorm starts, you feel all you can feel until you come to find out if it is in vain…
January 2004

(LEAF IN THE WIND)
…the sun sets and the time
pauses in a pantomime
like an old black and white
photograph of the night
in the window. You dream
of snow that tastes like cream.
In the light of a moon-
shaped plate, a silver spoon
mixes sugar and salt
inside your restless soul.
Each time you lose control
over the steering wheel
of your life, you may feel
as helpless as a torn leaf
in the wind. For a brief
moment, your memory
lane turns into a free-
way of living without regret
or fear. Inside your head,…
…the sun sets and the time pauses in a pantomime like an old black and white photograph of the night in the window. You dream of snow that tastes like cream. In the light of a moon-shaped plate, a silver spoon mixes sugar and salt inside your restless soul. Each time you lose control over the steering wheel of your life, you may feel as helpless as a torn leaf in the wind. For a brief moment, your memory lane turns into a freeway of living without regret or fear. Inside your
head,…
October 2010

(IN THE AFTERGLOW)
…also known as the sun.
This day is married to
that night. Does anyone
think that it isn’t true?
Some words seem not to mean
anything. Others – even
less. You look at their lean
letters while the evening
skies are starting to grow
dark as the easiest thing
to sow in the afterglow
of the day’s wedding ring…
…also known as the sun. This day is married to that night. Does anyone think that it isn’t true? Some words seem not to mean anything. Others – even less. You look at their lean letters while the evening skies are starting to grow dark as the easiest thing to sow in the afterglow of the day’s wedding ring…
July 2018

(AROUND A WORD)
…in the Beginning when
there wasn’t a single man.
GOD created the World.
So, every single word
that may be found in
It can also be seen
as a word that has got
to be coming from GOD.
Whenever a word is found,
it is bound to be around
a word and, of course,
the Word that was…
…in the Beginning when there wasn’t a single man. GOD created the World. So, every single word that may be found in It can also be seen as a word that has got to be coming from GOD. Whenever a word is found, it is bound to be around a word and, of course, the Word that was…
February 2021

A funeral wreath for Gaza, apartheid for us

I am transparent

I am thing

I am war

I am insomniac

I am dream

I am war

I am atomised

I am radioactive

I am war

I am child

I am mother

I am father

I am poet

I am war

I am Africa

I am war

I am writing to reach you

I am war

I am not calm

In war, no one is calm

My poems

mean absolutely nothing

to the ghosts that

now inhabit Gaza.

What honey and milk taste like during war

You, war, talk to me of

 the alternate universe

you live in, talk to me or

don’t talk to me of

your dead. In war, the

child is alone. The poet

stands alone. I think of all

the summers I was

loved. I am waiting for the

dead to meet me

For my second mother

to greet me, for her to

embrace me, call me,

welcome me home.

You, Gaza, are Steve

Biko. You will always

be remembered. Monuments

will be built in your honour.

I will remember your name for

centuries. I picked up

the human bone in the dirt.

It, too, was a gift.

Prayer For The Future or Wildflowers Growing Out Of The Eyes Of The Sun

He’s going to have

 children with

another woman

 because I can’t

have them anymore

Wildflowers bloom

in my stomach

 lining, my aorta,

my cranial devices,

my medulla oblongata,

my womb

There’s a starry-starry night

in my ovaries

Oh, they have never seen nor

felt the light of day

No children have I

No man by my side

Only an army

Angels in front

Angels behind

And the infinite potential of

The mind

I teach millions of children

about the nature of the medicinal

properties of plants

How to heal and knit and sew

 propaganda to the instruments of change

Dear Gaza,

the world will never

forget your dead

Dead children

Dead women

Dead men

I will always love that river

The ebb and flow of that river

To the sea

Watch me chase

the cloud like a horse

Call upon the birds

to feast on shrapnel

To protect the children’s eyes

To protect their liberty.

4th of March, 2024

I did it for Yasser

No extremist was I

There was a cause I was fighting for

An issue at stake

One fine autumn day

my mother was Russia

and I was Biden

I called her entourage

 and said I wanted a meeting

but they giggled behind my

 back and so my mother and

 I went our separate ways

I ate Jerusalem in tiny bite sized

 pieces but my mother told me in

 no uncertain terms that I had to share

So I divided what I had left into

two between the east and the west,

 calmly composed myself and went

 in search of Oriental studies.

2nd of March, 2024

Experiment to Determine the Extent of my Country’s Infertility

[Aim]: To demonstrate that my country is blessed with the fecundity of a twice castrated eunuch.

[Apparatus]: Specimens A-C, a concentrated acid, a stethoscope, a blindfold, three tins, a passport, a scanner

[Test #1]

Specimen A is a loyal patriot. A highly concentrated acid was splashed on him & he was left undisturbed for some moments. No visible reaction was observed.

           [Inference]: What is dead can never die again. Every patriotic citizen in my country is now a sepulchre that temples the withering bones of the dreams of a lofty country they once cradled.

[Test #2]

Specimen B is a young man. A thick blindfold was used on him until his eyes morphed into a bat’s. Three tins were placed in front of him, but only one of them had a passport. Seven times the tins were juggled around, but each time he picked the one with the passport.

          [Inference]: My country is said to be one of the largest in the continent, still nearly every young man & woman wants to jàpà.

[Test #3]

Specimen C is a regular national. A scanner was used to screen her neck & wrists, but nothing was found. When used on her waist, however, a special bead was detected.

          [Inference]: You’ll either find a crucifix or some prayer beads dangling from my countrymen’s necks or good luck charms as wristbands or some other apotropaic hung as scarecrow on other parts of the body. It’s not their fault; the country has devised a thousand ways of devouring them– if they don’t end up like chicks on a kite’s firm grip with their only ticket to salvation being the amount their kinsmen can rally as ransom, you’ll find their corpses decorated  with bullets, or still they’d end up being remembered as part of a figure, say the number of casualties of yet another crisis.

• Jàpà: Nigerian slang meaning emigration

In Breaking My Creative Block

today the muse came, her presence musicing itself into the direful world of my

heart’s silence. i first heard her whisper, a gentle feather of a sound, teasing the

labyrinths of my ear with its enigmatic fragility. her warm touch on the nape of

my neck ripples down my spine & culminates at my groin as the tender

beginnings of an arousal. it’s just a drizzle but a desert will worship the only

water it has seen in a long time. i’ve played this game for a long time, so I know

better than to scare her off. i do not take her under me immediately, but to the open

fields of my mouth. there’s a mixing, a thorough blending until my taste buds

become branded with her signature. my tongue knows the taste of her essence now,

the fragrance of it diffusing into all the corners of my cerebrum. she is at home in me

& i know this because of the wetness soaking all the way from her into me. the desert

in me is gradually dissolving into a forest. my hands take the cue, pushing their way

into the suppleness of her body, my fingers thawing at the icy rigidity of her flesh, so

that more wetness will break into my arid grounds. her body obeys the commands of

my fingers, softening at their lubricating grace. her heart can no more contain the

melody, spilling it into the streams of her mouth. her mouth, too, cannot stand the

pressure & she moans the secrets that soon grow into echoes, reverberating in the

void silence of my head. my head is full now, full of the secrets, full of her. the

borders of my mind are completely tumescent. let the union begin.

Election Results

He’s staying 

Up late

With a box

Of wine

And a frozen pizza,

A meal 

That he’s hardly

Able to taste,

Except for

The worry

And the sadness

And the fear.

Taylor Dibbert is a writer, journalist, and poet in Washington, DC. “Rescue Dog,” his fifth book, was published in May.

mockery of democracy

why mockery of democracy?
because demo
                         crazy can be easily
                                                           mocked.


this world or being optimistic

i read what
i’m interested in
                               yes, yes,
but it makes it
harder to live
                           yes, yes,
in this world.


which world?

a very
reliable
source
who said
that those
who are
honest & good
who have
character & discrimination
win the respect
of all
           the world
must not
have seen
the latest
political
results.





William’s masterpiece

beyond honest
                          & good
                                         character
                                                            & discrimination
                                                                                          there must
                                                                                                              live
                                                                                             what is
                                                                         impossible
                                                      to fathom
                                    a phantom
                     lurking
in the shadows
                     somewhere in the coulisse
                                                                    Shakespeare himself
                                               hysterical
                                               (laughing)


builders of this world or what his world builds       

if i could
laugh
           with you
i’d celebrate
all my mirth
                      & frivolity 
reach beyond
the myth of
                      integrity & other worldly
                                                                 lies
& lie with you
until at last
                      we make it true.








bonus:

tomorrow’s optimism or the new builders

we need 
a new word
with a new
definition
for the new
world.

My dad 

The one who loves me more than anyone

My father is my mountain

When anxiety comes, it passes 

There is nothing in this world, father 

I could not tell when the time came

I love you dad 

This name is in my heart

My dear dear father 

He thought about our future

My father worked without rest 

He did not eat himself but fed us

Father, I have no prayers

The daughter of Abdusamiyeva Iroda Sherzod was born on May 15, 2009 in Sherabad district of Surkhandarya region. In 2016 she went to study in the 1st grade of general education school No. 67 in Sherabad district of Surkhandarya region. Currently, she is a 9th grade student of this school. She started writing poems in the 5th grade and has written about 20 poems. His poems were published in magazines such as “Bekajon+”, “Sherabod Life”, “Bilimdon” and prestigious German magazines. Her poems were also published on Google Networks. She works as a coordinator and volunteer in Sherabad district. She wants to become a journalist in the future. She intends to become a mature person who will serve the country.