America’s / culinary roots / & Caribbean flavors Ignore the variable sample size, even when there are such influential outliers in the data as the Dearborn Truck Plant, an upscale specialty sandwich concept shop unmatched by any nearby drug store. I have been guilty of eating the odd haute/uberchic/upscale sandwich myself! The Kill- deer & Canadian Geese that nest on its green roof can be dealt with by rule-directed searches through mutation sequence space that incorporate energy production as well as food producing facilities. It will be days before authorities can determine the cause of death. Materialist hermeneutics The oven is a resonant space within which I can move easily. I put an egg & some hotdogs in- to it; what comes out is expanded & dynamically rearranged. Each time it is the event itself which operates against the ego in order to make room for deconstruction; & in doing so, opens a window in which to explicitly address the techno-sexuality of the digital page. Sousa phoned Snare drum undone is hum- drum until rimshot or paradiddle pokes noise into its silence. Such a puzzle, perhaps part riddle. Stick figures giving flesh to frame- work. Is con/ un/drum. Cultural artifice Gerbils are not for- bidden, nor are the latest Broadway refrains, even when played on rubber violins. The conservative Ordnung that guides Swartzentruber practise is still moderate enough not to alienate swing voters. Attracted by it he started back for Cedar City. Rarely is the Toreador's song more successfully achieved. Pectoral No content at the moment but later will be. It's possible the ultimate constituents of the planned structure might consist wholly of senses or concepts but it's more likely to be hot muscle car babes with great curves that love muscle cars & the guys who own them. Surprising how fish survive so well in what must be a harsh & hostile environment.
Category Archives: CHAOS
Poetry from Gulhayo Karimova
O man, mother is a treasure in the world It burns for you every night Even if you doubt motherly love Look at his sad eyes But don't rush to the work of the world world, children, money worries Say that you are here at this time His eyes are filled with tears of joy at this moment Your valuable words are appreciated Don't hurt your mother after this If it hurts, eat it yourself If he puts his head on your shoulder, stop your heart Don't miss a beat
Essay from Lola Hotamova
Angel of Mercy Mother is so great that no words can describe her. No one in the world can give the love that a mother gives. Because mother has a special magic that no other person has. Mother night - that day lives as my child. She raises us, washes and combs white, is ready to give up even her own sweet soul. Many poems and songs have been written about mothers. Tears come to the eyes after hearing them. A person who has a mother is the happiest person in the world. We may not be able to return the good things that mother has done to us in both worlds. Respect for our honorable and dear mothers in our country is boundless. An example of this is the widespread celebration of international Women's Day on March 8. In honor of mothers, O'tkir Hashimov created the work "The affairs of the world" in honor of mothers. This is one of my favorite books l've ever read. In this century, O'tkir Hashimov wrote mainly about his mother. Lola Hotamova was born on May 7,2009 in the village of Khanabad, Bukhara region. She studies in the 8th grade of the 43rd general education school in Jondor district. Poems of the young poetess were first published in 2019 in the "Zhondor ovozi" newspaper. Later, she began to appear in newspapers and magazines such as " Gulkhan", "Ezgulik", " Yangiyer tongi", " Bilimdon", "Smile". Her books "Source of power", "I love my country", "Shy rabbit" have been published.
Poetry from Orzigul Sherova (needs to be May 1)
✨🌹Looking for Mother🌹✨ My thoughts are towards you from evening to morning, My tongue will be with you even from poison, From such a city that lights up at night, The burning eye weeps in thought, I looked for you with all my heart, mother. Without you, my days seem to be dreary, Hasn't luck turned around, Everything that appears is just a dream, A butterfly on your sunbul hair, I looked for you with all my heart, mother. At night, I wait without closing my eyes, Sometimes the coral floats or swallows pains, Maybe these days will pass in one pass, I'll meet someone as beautiful as you. I looked for you with all my heart, mother. A white scarf was left hanging, Without you, I'm even taller Come on, ask me what's wrong? Looking at your picture, the heart cares, I looked for you with all my heart, mother. Alisherovna Orzigul
Poetry from J.J. Campbell
sadness becomes loneliness it's the laugh, the gentle i love you late at night, the warm embrace and suddenly remembering how many years it's actually been how the touch of a woman is nearly foreign to you now hopeless should never come up when you think about sex sadness becomes loneliness before you even realize the world has left you behind -------------------------------------------------------------- start the weekend a thunderstorm before the morning coffee not exactly how i wanted to start the weekend but you're old enough now to know you don't get to choose such things your place in life doesn't allow it -------------------------------------------------------- two vapid souls shuffling down the boulevard a skeleton of a man thinning goatee and hollow eyes holding hands with his woman a soul crushing blonde light years out of his league most assume there are two reasons why she is with him girth and wealth most assumptions are true more than we actually realize two vapid souls searching for a better tomorrow if such a thing even still fucking exists --------------------------------------------------------- a zombie apocalypse the muse believes she can't trust me during a zombie apocalypse that makes me laugh she apparently doesn't understand that i will be dead before any of that ever happens zombies, an apocalypse, or a glorious heel turn more pressing matters are at hand as usual like rent, taxes, a check engine light that always seems to come on at the least opportune times not to even mention where one might be able to find some non-toxic land to grow food or whatever else --------------------------------------------------------------------- a soft rain in the sunshine two loose shits within five minutes of waking up jack daniels for dinner strikes again a stray cat comes to our backyard looking for birds or some food luck never appears in this damn town a soft rain in the sunshine a lonely woman wonders of a better way to die here comes a daydream meant for a better soul the cocaine always runs out on a tuesday night right as she starts to feel ok with doing it for money once again -------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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, The Beatnik Cowboy, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Black Coffee Review and The Asylum Floor. Rumor has it that he might have a joint chapbook coming out this summer with Casey Renee Kiser. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)
Essays from Sadullayeva Darmonjon
Love
The soft chirping of birds and beautiful trees added beauty to the quiet and cool avenue. A handsome young man, who was known to be intelligent in appearance, sat down next to a girl he had known for a long time, and looked her in the eyes and said:
– I love you very much. I want to spend my whole life with you, greet the morning with you every day, share every joy with you, be a partner in your joys and sorrows. Insha’Allah we will be the happiest couple in the world together, he said with tears in his eyes.
Unfortunately, the girl could neither see this guy nor his tears…
A “fair” world
Aunt Tatiana missed her daughter Anna very much after dinner and decided to write her a letter. The sound of the wind could be heard outside. Aunt Tatiana sat down by the burning stove and began to write a letter:
– My daughter Anna, I miss you very much. You know, when you were little, you always followed me, and in the evenings you said, “Oh, sleep with me. I’m so scared without you.” In the cold winter nights, I would tell you interesting tales and stories, and you would fall asleep listening to them. Especially after your father’s death, you became very attached to me, my daughter. And I could not imagine my life without you. I felt that without you, this world seems to me like a room without a door or a window. And you have grown up, you have become a sharp minded girl. Do you remember when you first stepped into school, I said if you get good grades, I’ll get you a doll you like. And this innocent soul of yours would have a crush on that doll and every day you would get excellent grades and come home happy. The joy shining in your eyes when you graduated from school and entered college is still in front of my eyes like it was yesterday. You looked at me and said, “Hey, look, I’ve taken the first step towards my dreams. I’m going to be a famous lawyer in the future, honey. I’m going to do my best to bring justice to the world and fight for the truth.” That moment is still forever etched in my mind. You were the owner of an innocent and pure heart. My daughter, you loved tulips very much. This spring, I would like to go to the mountain with you and pick many tulips for you, to be next to me as before, to hold you in my arms, to see your smiling innocent eyes, my daughter.
Aunt Tatiana said so and decided to send this letter to her daughter by post tomorrow.
Unfortunately, it has been three years since that terrible and tragic car accident happened in Anna’s life when she was 18 years old…
The dreams of a young and innocent girl turned into a dream. His pure dreams did not fit into this “fair” world…
Sadullayeva Darmonjon was born in 2002 in Khiva, Khorezm region. She is currently a third-year student of the Uzbek language education at Urgench State University.
More than 15 scientific articles have been published in international journals and conferences such as “Science and Innovation”, “Young Academic”, “XXL”, “Scientific Approach to the Modern Education System”, ” Google scholar” . Her creative works were published in the newspaper “Ezgu Soz” and in the anthology “Builders of the Future”. She considered member of the International Organization ” All India Council for Technical Skill Development” too.
Poetry from Ismailova Orastabonu
🌹Isn't she an ANGEL OF HEAVEN!🌹
Brought spring to the gardens,
The moon was shining in front of his child.
The first song that he sang was divided by the gods,
Isn't our soul a bond, woman?
Isn't she an angel of heaven?
A woman is the light of our house, the blooming flower of our garden, the angel of our house. A woman is a masterpiece among the blessings created by God!
In fact, Allah took the beauty from the moon shining in the sky, the eyebrows and eyelashes from the dark night, the eyes from the stars, the language from the nightingale, the willow tree from the willow, the delicacy from the flower, and the love from the ocean, and created a perfect unity and named it woman.
A woman is a great creature who took care of her child in her body for nine months and gave her life.
So what is happiness for a woman?
A woman who carries a child and caressing her little body with love is the happiest woman in the world. A woman who devotes herself to her little girl and sews dresses with her hardworking hands, there is no happier person than her. If you give a woman a sweet word and something to cheer her up, she will consider herself happy.
Let's pay attention to these sentences of Tursunoy Sadygova about women: "A woman is not a woman, but a flower that always trembles in the cave called the wind, in the stormy season called the family, and still spreads its beautiful flowers."
A woman is indeed a flower. Dear friends, let's try to describe a woman as a crimson blooming rose. The red color in the flower is the redness on the face of an Uzbek woman, that is, her modesty, ibo. The expression radiating from the flower is endless love from the ocean, which never ends, no matter how much it costs. Its strong body that climbs to the heights is its lifelong friend, that is, its life partner. Green leaves are shared by the people and relatives, and the thorns in it are a weapon against the sufferings and injustices in life. are the children of...
Ismailova Orastabonu is the daughter of Navruz, a 10th grade student of the 13th general secondary school of Kasbi district, Kashkadarya region.