Trapped in the Blinding Contrails a star has jetted down the sky, drowning me in its blinding contrails, my legs flail in their search for footholds, but they sky holds none. weathered scrolls with evanescent words map my cavernous world, ruling out the life my heart considers a cocoon. i seem to be lost on this winding path, despite the plethora of hands pushing me forward. being myself isn’t an option when my life is a totality of my predecessors’. my struggles in the contrails are measured by perfectionist eyes. let me out of the sky, find me somewhere beneath the earth. i wish to be a lone ‘one’ and not just a product of one and one, i wish not my life to be thrown into the mausoleum of my predecessors’. and while I stay adrift in the skies tonight, i try not to drown my successor in the blinding contrails i leave behind. What Father Calls Language I come from a corner of the world where you have to clip the wings of your words with scissors so they don’t fly from your throat into your audience’s brain through the wrong hole. Father says I don’t have to move my lips before the words ooze into my listener’s brain because language isn’t what I speak or write, it is that which revolves in my head. unsaid. unheard. When it Climaxes… my eyes widen, the cornea stretches, the brown pupils growing rounder and larger, multiplying the proximity between the eyelids. my lungs call for air but air seems to stop moving at the vestibules of my nose. the airs on every part of me arise like soldiers responding to the call of duty. my right hand, despite being shackled by my wristwatch, flails freely in the air, the popcorn in the captivity of its fingers roll backwards, finding the way out, while the left one grasping the popcorn cup remains immobile in the air. my legs are caged in my canvas shoes, rooted to a spot like the iroko. a piece of popcorn awaiting its fate -- to be crunched to death by the ruthless molars and drowned in the sea of saliva that flows down my belly -- drops back into the cup, followed by a drop of saliva that my tongue catches mid-air. my eyes dart left & right, front & back, searching through the myriad of faces that swarm around me, for whoever might have seen me drool. but none! everyone else suffers this fate. my eyes fly back to the huge wall before me where the pictures move, move & move again. that’s a huge plot twist, i must confess. When Love Beckons follow with your head and not your heart, cause the heart is a fool that makes too many mistakes that put your poor head in trouble, and let it resound through the chambers of your ventricle that love is but blind, so keep your eyes open, as you traverse the realm of love, so you don’t crash into the disaster that shatters your heart.
Category Archives: CHAOS
Poetry from Amirova Niginabonu
Cloud and sun In the vast bosom of the sky, Tinctures "blessed youth". I'm tired of watching Light is a generous sun. To share my love It was the sun's turn. Unceasing cloud, Share the tears. So the sun changed, Thanks to the cloud. My service is over I also give my light. The sun is tied around his waist, ready for service Cloud's tears, Dice turn into light. A house by the river A lonely house on the bank of the river, Who was watching and waiting for? Tevarak is surrounded by green trees, How many days were crowded or lonely? Not one guest, one thousand and one people. Thankful refuge for all. The passenger does not separate, does not choose at all. It is a sin not to open the door. The fury of winter, the day of the Koran, A boat companion tied to a tree. He is destined to be rewarded, The sad, sad look of the loved ones. Mind The skin of the mind, the universe decorates, Don't worry about your behavior. The tariff you are told is a description, A flower will please your heart. We are higher than the mountain that will raise your glory, Your services are an example to many. Enthusiasm is always a friend of the mind. Be familiar with the truth. Law of life The ice that conquered the peaks of the mountains, It slowly melts from the sun. Rushing through the grass They are sick when they look up. Life gives by walking the path, There will be those who are offended. This is the law of life from time immemorial, Everything would be great then Ship white ship with white sails, Suzar in the sea wave. The sails flutter, The horn is at the height of the wind. Heading towards the horizon, The goal is goodness. Accompanying people Let's reach the goal. A tiny white ship, There is a lot of power in him. Believe in his power, Your intentions are answered. Rainbow In the middle of the day, It rained suddenly. Nature's wonderful, He performed a miracle. The garden faded away, From the rustling sound. Insects are amazed, From this rustling sound. The rain has stopped, The sun is in its place. The sky suddenly cleared, He looked beautiful. Seven kinds of rainbow Samo smiles across the sky. I love you Unfortunately, Ming does not know. Rainbow from my youth, I love the shine. A drop of water in the sun, I know you will be punished.
Amirova Niginabonu was born in the village of Ibrahimota ,Nurabad district , Samarkand Region .The 8 th – grade student of the Samarkand Specialized Art Boarding School has published a book of poetry entitled ʼʼ Kaldirgochʼʼ His creative works were published in the youth magazine ʼʼ Samarkand Mishoirasiʼʼ
Essay from Gulsanam Qurbonova
MY MOTIVATIONS IN LIFE
Successful people always think positively. They always enjoy life no matter what. They are good at almost everything. It’s always nice to talk to them because they’re always smiling and friendly. Such people poison others with their happiness. Successful people believe in themselves and their success. They never feel bad that “I can’t succeed” because they make every effort to learn everything in advance. However, even if something fails, they, unlike those who are harmed, ask themselves, “How did this happen and what should I do?” They ask the question and look for ways to get a positive result. Successful people are not afraid of responsibility. They take responsibility for the decisions they make, even if they are difficult for others or risky. When you’re successful, you immediately have haters around you. Ignore them, don’t let criticism, pressure, emotional attacks make you weak. Build up your confidence and use your armor of confidence for good!!
What is the role of energy in our life? Why do I rarely take people close to me? There are different categories of people around us and we have to establish a relationship with them. I have been working on my spirituality and personal development for years and I want to share my findings with you! I avoid 3 categories of people very quickly, I don’t even read their messages: 1) He complains about his life, shares his pain with everyone, blames everyone and makes himself the victim 2) Interferes in the life of others, discusses and gossips about it; 3) Those who do not understand you, who only think they are right and give unsolicited advice. These 3 categories of people eat your energy. After you talk to a person who constantly complains about his life, makes himself miserable, blames everyone, his energy and aura of dirt will transfer to you. You feel powerless, unable to do anything. Those who interfere in other people’s lives and look for dirt under their fingernails can even make you sick. Gossip, discussions, finding fault with someone will darken your heart, and being too busy with things that have nothing to do with you is nothing more than wasting your energy. For example, I don’t care who is married, divorced or at war with someone. Those who always blame you, who do not understand even if you explain a million times, who look for dirt under their fingernails, are the biggest enemies of your energy. By the time you explain to them and justify yourself, you will be exhausted and nervous. Because he does not understand, does not want to understand. Because he himself is so negative, he thinks of others as well. I will forever block those who have bad suspicions about me, I will never talk to them. Because if you don’t do a thousand good deeds, he will suspect evil. Allah also said: “I am in the suspicions of my servant about me.” Whatever you suspect about people, he will show you. I rarely have close relationships with people. I do not allow negative energy to influence others. I don’t listen to anyone on personal matters, I don’t give advice. Because I don’t know the situation completely, and someone’s problems and pains definitely affect me. That’s why I stay away. Don’t let someone else’s dirty aura affect your beautiful life, don’t waste your valuable time discussing the lives of worthless people.
When you bring yourself to zero, that’s when positive energy flows into you. Zero is the strongest number and state in the world. The number, which represents nothingness, emptiness and nothingness, is a very powerful number. God created man innocent. At first he was zero to sin. That’s when he was the strongest. For example, you talk about your problems, let’s say you have 10-15 problems. You don’t have a car, your health is bad, you are unhappy with your family, and so on. Is it possible to erase these when you write them down on a piece of paper? Of course it is possible. But what can’t you turn off? Zero! You can’t erase an absence from a sheet.
QURBONOVA GULSANAM was born on April 16, 2006 in Dehkhanabad district of Kashkadarya region. She is currently a grade 10 student at school number 68 in Dehkhanabad district and is proud of the regional German language. She has also achieved many results in sports, table tennis, chess, checkers.
Poetry from Eddie Heaton
light and bitter sunday lunchtime with my father in the cemetery wind striking stone beating conflict bearing down scratched on a head marking the days four poems prowl as i fly into deeds that bought me up for change to bring me into line to put me in these lines the imagery awakes and in this mist of time this son of york moves effortlessly ‘mongst the pines a slicing of anxiety that lies most pale in the moonlight witness the nervous prayer vistas that were there for us a very useful sunset once more cut adrift lover-to-be – begin sex and secularity show boats in the drink adolescent agitprop revisited a really low shuck scuttle across the backs of daunting zebras leap or they’ll come for you get down on the blanket then harsh noise too dark once i was a walking erection entitlement personified lewd passions break neck runaway class runaway signs sonic experiments ranging from riffs exclude ecstasy include instances you know she whispered you do know gentle then gentlemen we are subjects of the author of his latest and the world won’t end oh delighting one after all you will after all you’ve seen full-lotus on the mantelpiece a technique to be admired move on to more familiar hypnosis twist yourself into a tree incendiary personal collections consisting of salacious clips behaviour can be useful a fortune on the pools north carolina is drowning and she is a million years old in his pocket lies your breathing modern psychology fries wavemakers made off with my waking red brick telephone lines yes sir she does have two kidneys racists are usually thick the meat grinder has read your note but you are not excused a hundred-thousand potbellies can’t be wrong and personal chemistry can only take you so far this blend of surreal chicanery is remaining weaving opening pieces and having to make do so cease your fashionable scuttling i also find that quite contrived we held we necked as first rains hit the carriage we decoded the typology and oh what fun we had live streaming the event simplify and exemplify or you will be disturbed try to exercise begin to form softness sink into self-defence only partly consume yourself more profit for the shucksters out ways means way out sullen leaps from the parapet my stares have been changed and both are rather weary now coffee brews with queer desires following which and taking it on take what you want and get it to shore farewell yearning cobra cats that ridge their backs time to find the dreamlike frame mind abiding buttered cool blue-tiled pools and pixled fools furnish them with everything be unconscious mind i said call it out then mother-hen and this is what that feels like it creeps into you backwards with its bug eyes on your feet on a tight leash fold and unfold as the woodland comes to life in surroundings i wave she waving must run rice cake wars once factories made sure still jolly reader really bad got bored rather than wait the creature stirred who would have thought of virgin lands with ringing crystals so debauched who then is watching this unprecedented growth through a soft lens reach for a cigarette vodka this world has become a dark world murdering catamites behind a white picket fence what is on offer we bring you plate ransom note thought circuits bathed in flaming gravy simple weird moments in a deep bass slot fine dimly wondered march acoustics sirloin beef broils there bypassing breath this infernal whooping through my mucus has transformed the cold machinery of war break out the psalms and trance-like simul- ations before the god of winds caresses your last breath counting your sleeps in a sound-proofed chamber recycling waste for a jollier death my knees have turned against me and now they’re spreading so there’s little else left here for me to do oh damn your dreams fish don’t want air and many more besides a little bit of ghostly’s gone astray go check for mail and mow the lawn and throw your groceries in the bin this must we see it cannot be it flows through graduated forms a stasis tube containing light a play with something different new concerns providing stranger personal effects aesthetic coffins ripened love buds please dear uncle am i then the one am i a shade of energy pulsating in and out of love of time not out of hate of signs but talk of peace that mimics all the body’s core and fights what should have made a difference and yet appears in more and more degrading revelations force fed into my conscious mind it’s what is endlessly desired discover walks and roots in forestation that renew then take up huge amounts of time – the moments must so easily slip by be still and concentrate as best you can with myra hindley on your knee a flash of bottled radishes pressed uo against your spine that so inflames the rash that your humanity decries irrational darkening dream status a sinistere mouths and my glass eye rolls left arm draped in a short space stake gibbet and cross and repent base pernicious and degrading fire and sword from lip to ear crystallised into a creed prenatal memory cognition black fire town once there was a red hot poker now there’s only central heating shadow travellers offend a sort of rising for a few like-minded friends and what is left is postmarked quarantine daisy gristle welts green gnomes here lie and their chunks anastasia was disposed of lady chatterley's a broken tuba now her topical mouth is a gift shop but it’s closed whose contraption am i strapped upon the master-key is in their hands and i believe they watch my dreams through apertures extending into space Eddie Heaton studied innovative and experimental poetry under the tutelage of post-modern poet and educator Keith Jebb, achieving a first-class honours degree. He also won the 2021 Carcanet Award for Creative Writing. His work has been extensively published in a number of prestigious literary journals.
Poetry from Mykyta Ryzhykh
*** red bones boiled in night porridge my grandmother coughed every time bypassing the cemetery which does not exist an inconspicuous shadow hangs on the wall of our high-rise building birds peck at this shadow from hunger crumbs of pigeon bread here stick to the asphalt every grocery store in our area is going bankrupt even the cats here don’t dare to leave a dead mouse without eating its flesh to the end glue for eyes and fingers in the form of world history falls on the eyelashes with crumbs of hunger https://thegorkogazette.com/2024/03/07/poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh/ *** the sky is so vain that the rain ends a stranger with the face of death gives a dead kitten dead kitten nibbles milky evening and its dark around after the airstrike https://thegorkogazette.com/2024/03/07/poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh/ *** moonless night sensors couple in love in blood and happiness pleasure of the flesh develops into a play of shadows the iron doors of the bedroom are bashfully silent light bulbs don’t light for some unknown reason only something inside the bellies warms the whole bedroom https://thegorkogazette.com/2024/03/07/poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh/ *** hungry children racing with pigeons run to the yard bread of tears and water of bodies – in that order little sons die each time trying to resurrect even snakes share their apples with the starving https://thegorkogazette.com/2024/03/07/poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh/ *** broom of glances forgive me for love I will never forbid you to die alone again https://thegorkogazette.com/2024/03/07/poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh/ *** I want to be a killer sleeping on crumpled grass I want to be buried in crumpled grass I want to kill I want to be Buried under the grass is a home for worms and insects The buried has no room for error I want to kill the war I want to be home https://thegravityofthething.com/untitled-poem-mykyta-ryzhykh-2/ *** The bush is devoid of all berries Autumn is now stripping off the leaves too The future is uncertain https://boatsagainstthecurrent.org/poetry/3-poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh *** By dying like the first time you teach me to feel sorry for you A cry torn off by the wind is carried away leaving a silent emptiness I don’t know how to feel sorry for you because you are indifferent to my regrets Death is just a surprise box that you finally gave me This is your first gift to me This is the last gift https://boatsagainstthecurrent.org/poetry/3-poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh *** I grab the tree but its branches don't care I'm walking through the cemetery looking for life I cry about the living because the dead are indifferent to everything I don't find anyone alive anywhere in this world Only photographs on graves speak to me of love https://boatsagainstthecurrent.org/poetry/3-poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh
Essay from Donoxon Ibodullayeva (needs to stay April 1)
“Social activism or exemplary education”
In the fast-pased world, it is completely wrong to think that the “Youth Union” and voluntary organizations consist of idleness and only taking the time of students. I think that every student should be socially active along with education, because sharing the knowledge and skills that they have with others, organizing various creative projects for their peers, and sharing news there is no bad side, on the contrary, it is very useful. But some teachers are against it, in their opinion, the knowledge of the student who joins the organization decreases and his grades fall. Unfortunately, through such wrong ideas, they are withdrawing students from social activity. After all, if they don’t share their knowledges with others, why are they studying, just to enter the university? Well, let’s say he or she is a student, if they do not have initiative, if they can not speak fluently, what kind of staff will they become?
We ambitious youngsters must conquer the highest peaks. Of course, in order to achieve these results, we need a clear structure.”Youth Union” organization helps us lay this solid foundation.
Every student who joins the organization develops a number of skills, such as working with a team, thinking deeply, and speaking fluently, and these skills will always be useful to the student in the future, regardless of what kind of work they will do. In addition, this organization provides us with unforgettable childhood memories, and always calls for activity and unity. Every student who steps into the leadership system can’t get out of it again, because a person who has found his place in a society does not want to leave the system at all.
The leaders of Uzbekistan are a big, united and inseparable family! Organizing projects and motivational training together with them gives me energy. Another pillar of leadership is that it teaches students to be positive, because a positive person can lead those around them to a brighter future. I can say without hesitation that the first step to leadership begins with “Youth Union”. I am proud to join this organization, and I encourage all my peers to join this system!
Let’s unite youngers and leave the past behind and move towards the future. Let’s try so that our name will take place in the pages of history!!!
Essay from Boqijonova Madinabonu
The truth.
A mother is a mother. She does not need another quality. (O’tkir Hashimov “World affairs”)
August 29, 2022…
The last days of summer. Hot days are over. One season was ready to give way to another season
Having graduated from school, achieved my dream, and been admitted to a higher educational institution, I fly in the seventh heaven, hoping that I will be a special person in the coming season, that is, I will be a student. I grew up in a simple village, among simple people. This event that I remember now is what I witnessed with my own eyes. The names in it have changed. Maybe people too. But it did not affect me. I know there are many stories, fairy tales, songs, poems about mothers. Among these, I would like to add the fate of a poor mother who I witnessed. I know that I am powerless to reprimand someone for something. However, through this story, I would like to remind you that we need to understand the truth more deeply.
ЭIt was August 29 … I was returning home after celebrating with my friends because of my admission. There are a lot of cars and people on the street. I could not understand what happened. A little while ago, when I was returning from a party, I fell into a different state after seeing this situation. I could hear the whispers of people passing by me on the street: “Yes, the poor man was ill for a long time, it was difficult for his son. Such words. I felt like I understood. Aunt Farida
… Aunt Farida is dead. Aunt Farida is our neighbor, she has one son and one daughter. Her children divorced her husband when they were small. I am also the richest person in the world. I don’t say that I am satisfied with life and my fate, I am living a very good life. Therefore, this cannot be expected even from a poor and helpless person. But my aunt Farida was really struggling to make a living. As soon as her daughter graduated from school, she worked from morning to night in order to help her mother.
It is not for nothing that they say that the role of the father in the upbringing of a boy is great. Farida’s aunt’s son may have lacked this upbringing. True, he also helped his family and his mother, but for some reason he did not act himself until he said that his mother was suffering and that he should act for the sake of the family. One day my mother was baking bread in the oven. I was always busy with tasks. Aunt Farida came to our place. While they were talking with my mother for a while, my mother went to the oven again, to my aunt Farida’s house. At that time, my mother said that she will stay with you today. It has been a year and a half since the wedding of my aunt Farida’s daughter Sevinch. He came out to say that his son is staying at our house because he is alone at home today for some reason.
That day remained with us. He could not sleep well at night because it was a strange house. Whether my brother or mother noticed it, I felt it very well. Sahar got up in the morning to pray the morning prayer. We all read. But he said that he will go home without having breakfast. The medicine he used to drink before breakfast was left at home. One day he went in without agreeing to do nothing. Aunt Farida’s house is almost not finished, even so, it took a lot of work to get to its current state. That is, my aunt Farida picked cotton and carrots in autumn. In the spring, he took out the cotton crop. So, in every season, seasonal jobs were found for him.
My mother said that they restored these houses with the help of my aunt Farida’s father, and then they did a lot of work themselves. Of course, his children were young at that time. In 2020, when the coronavirus spread all over the world, my aunt Farida became seriously ill. His daughter is married. His son was in Russia. He spent a lot of time in the hospital. He left the hospital, but the effect of his patients did not go away.
They were in the process of renovating their house beautifully to marry their son. It was summer. It was the end of summer. Aunt Farida was affected by that illness, difficult times of fate, the end of many misfortunes, literally speaking. Maybe there are many things that happened in the fate of this mother that I did not know. But the difficulty of the past tense of these simply written words, which I have listed, is actually great. What was the saddest thing… After the death of my aunt Farida, she sold her son’s houses, the house where she was born and grew up, where she spent her childhood, where her mother and grandfather worked hard, and married a woman in the city. He moved to the country. He did not stay in that house because of his mother’s respect. Sorry… It really hurt me. Because it was not just a house, but also a memory. One day my married sister came to our house. When they come, there will be a holiday in our house. When my sister was talking to my mother, I overheard: “I saw my aunt Farida in my dream last night. They were looking at me and saying: Iftar is being served in heaven, I am going there.”They were like happy people.
Mother’s love is real, not everyone understands it.
Boqijonova Madinabonu. Born in 2004 in Koshtepa district of Fergana region. Currently, he is a 1st-year student of the Faculty of Philology of Fergana State University, majoring in Russian language and literature.