ÚLTIMA GRAN PANDEMIA 
Por Gustavo M. GALLIANO

	Nadie supo cómo, donde o porqué surgió. Bastó su génesis para que se propagara por todo el desprevenido planeta, y ya no hubo retorno. Contagio total, sin tiempo de medicinas.
	Me ha contado en secreto mi amigo imaginario Xerafín que el huésped primario fue un humano. Que decidió abrir su pecho  y exclamar,  en sincero  frenesí,  las  tres fantásticas palabras: “¡Solidaridad, Resiliencia y Paz!”.
	Al instante, el virus se propago por el aire, pandémico,  vinculando  cuerpos, mentes y almas, en cada rincón.  El planeta muto, sus habitantes no volvimos a ser los mismos. 
	Y ese día fue hoy.-


LAST GREAT PANDEMIC 
By Gustavo M. GALLIANO

       No one knew how, where or why it arose. Its genesis was enough for it to spread throughout the unsuspecting planet, and there was no return. Total contagion, no time for medicines.
       I have been secretly told by my imaginary friend Xerafin that the primary host was a human. That he decided to open his chest and exclaim, in sincere frenzy, the three fantastic words: "Solidarity, Resilience and Peace!".
       Instantly, the virus spread through the air, pandemic, linking bodies, minds and souls, in every corner. The planet mutated, its inhabitants were never the same again.
And that day was today.-

BREVE BIOGRAFÍA de:

Prof. Gustavo Marcelo GALLIANO.

          Nacido en Gödeken, Santa Fe, República Argentina. Escritor, poeta, Jurado en certámenes literarios Internacionales. Periodismo digital. Docente Universitario de la Facultad de Derecho de la UNR, en la asignatura Historia Constitucional Argentina. Miembro del CICSO (Centro de investigaciones en Ciencias Sociales). Secretario Técnico de REDIM.     

          Se ha desempeñado como Corresponsal Especial en diversas revistas internacionales de Arte y Literatura (Cañ@santa, Sinalefa, ViceVersa, Long Island al Día, RosannaMúsica, etc).

          Integra la Red de Escritores en Español (REMES), Poetas de Mundo, Unión Hispano-Mundial de Escritores (UHE), la Fundación César Égido Serrano, Naciones Unidas de las Letras (Ave Viajera y Proyecto Mundial Semillas de Juventud), entre otras. Actualmente es colaborador especial de Revista Poética AZAHAR (España), Revista Literaria-artístico PLUMA y TINTERO (España), Revista Literaria KENAVÒ (Italia) y Revista OFRANDA LITERARA (Rumania) donde también integra el Colegio Editorial.

          Ha obtenido distinciones y premios en certámenes y concursos internacionales de cuentos, narrativa, micro relato y poesía. Publicó libros (LA CITA, 5 AUTORES) y participe  de antologías y revistas publicadas y traducidas en más de 100 países.

          Ha sido designado como Embajador de la Palabra y la Paz por diversas instituciones: WWPO (USA), Círculo de Embajadores Universales de la Paz (Francia / Suiza), Fundación César Égido Serrano y Museo de la Palabra (España).

          Reside en Rosario, Santa Fe, República Argentina.

BRIEF BIOGRAPHY of:

Prof. Gustavo Marcelo GALLIANO

Born in Gödeken, Santa Fe, Argentine Republic. Writer, poet, jury in international literary contests. Digital journalism. University Professor at the Faculty of Law of the UNR, in the subject Argentine Constitutional History. Member of CICSO (Social Sciences Research Center). REDIM Technical Secretary.

He has worked as a Special Correspondent for various international Art and Literature magazines (Cañ @ santa, Sinalefa, ViceVersa, Long Island al Día, RosannaMúsica, etc).

He is a member of the Red de Escritores en Español (REMES), Poetas de Mundo, Union Hispano-Mundial de Escritores (UHE), the César Égido Serrano Foundation, the United Nations of Letters (Ave Viajera and the World Seeds of Youth Project), among others. Currently he is a special contributor to AZAHAR Poetic Magazine (Spain), PLUMA and TINTERO Literary-artistic Magazine (Spain), KENAVÒ Literary Magazine (Italy) and OFRANDA LITERARA Magazine (Romania) where he is also a member of the Editorial College.

He has obtained distinctions and prizes in international contests and contests for short stories, narrative, short story and poetry. He published books (LA CITA, 5 AUTORES) and participated in anthologies and magazines published and translated in more than 100 countries.

He has been designated as Ambassador of the Word and Peace by various institutions: WWPO (USA), Circle of Universal Ambassadors of Peace (France / Switzerland), César Égido Serrano Foundation and Museum of the Word (Spain).

He resides in Rosario, Santa Fe, Argentine Republic.

730-

Jesus Lizard
Jesus Wept
Jesus’ Son
Judas Hole
Judas Tree
Jesus H Christ Attorney at Law
Judas Priest
Judas Door
Jesus Saves
Jesus Christ Foretopman
Jesus Christ and Jerry Cruncher Resurrection Man at Large
Jesus Christ Superstar
Jesus Camp
Jesus of Montreal
Judas Kiss
 

				732-

100 word review challenge to Howie Good’s
Stick Figure Opera: 99 100-word Prose Poems.


Imagine word salads made of image
clusters leaking from holes in a canvas
by Dali. And one by Cocteau. With a
side of Bacon. Or shotgun art made by
someone like Burroughs at ten paces
with a pump action, shooting five-gallon 
paint cans, resulting impact something like
forensic evidence. Like blood splatters.
With a side of fileted Pollock. Like Dada
at the MAMA. I mean the MOMA.
Opening night Patrons of the arts dancing 
a Lobster Quadrille to a Resurrection Jazz 
Band. Dressed in top hats with pink boas
and Robante gowns. That’s a Stick
Figure Opera: 100 words exactly.


733-

The Eggplant That Ate Chicago or
The Ham Sandwich That Killed Mama 
Cass. Attack of the Killer Tomatoes or
It Came from Schenectady. The Grilled
Cheese Sandwich with the Profile of
Jesus Christ or The Block That God Forgot.
The Thigh Bone Connected to the Hip
Bone or Zen Bones, Zen Bones.
 

734-

Exploding Trees
Frost Quakes
Arctic Sea Smoke
Fog Freeze
109 below
Climate Change
Weather events
or rock groups


740-

“When I make a film, it is a sleep.
I am dreaming.”

“Realism in unreality is a constant
pitfall.”

“He or she exists only if introduced
with events in a dream.”

“I have always liked the no man’s land
of twilight.”

“What are you trying to say?
I was trying to say what I said.”

Jean Cocteau, “On Orpheus
 

743-

Memory is what happens next.
“a memory is nothing/nothing is
a memory.” Bernadette Mayer.
“Just because something has never
happened before doesn’t mean it
can’t happen again.” (unknown)
(Sports Center? ESPN?) “I seem
to remember my future works although
I don’t even know what they will be.”
V. Nabokov, The Gift. 
“Shove a slogan down the throat
enough times I becomes an acquired taste.”
Jenny Xie. “I confess I don’t believe
in time.” V.N. “an image of the dead or
the fingernail/ of a new born child.” 
John Berryman


748-

You don’t know Jack(s)

Jack(ie) Kennedy
Jack(ie) Robinson
Jack(ie) Jensen
Jack Shit (e)
Jack Off
Jack Rabbit
Jack Tar
Jack Johnson
Jack Spicer
Jack beanstalk
Jack Kerouac

Jack Giant Killer
Jack(son) Polloc
Jack(b) Nimble
Jack (b) Quick
Jack Dempsey
Jack Micheline
Jack (a) Lope

Relatively Relative

In those gardens, tucked away from the city,
one of the main attractions when visiting you;
the affluence that laced this air with distorted tendrils,
a world away from my usual backdrop, and somewhat
strangely more exciting.

After we left that council funded attempt at tranquility,
we crossed the tree lined roads, that living room 
now just a fragmented memory, brandy snaps and whiskey 
in decorated glasses, your grin just slightly terrifying, overseeing 
everything.

Those stairs to steep for comfort, complimenting
the vertigo that was often caused by your presence, 
which left us all way too early, your wisdom expanded 
over three decades, only spoken in half drunk
conversation, your echo only ever intended to be 
a memory. 


No Chance of Rest

Together we gather, encapsulated in this web,
that hangs heavy with grit smeared rain drops
between broken branches of yew, 
still not ripe enough yet to carve into arrows.

This snare trap of time, with inheritance 
we never wished to accept. 
Our recreation once again cut short;
only the higher echelons have parks 
that remain open all evening. 

We retain strength in thimble sized vails,
the same tasks repeating like decreasing
circles in puddles of oil. 
The same days, weeks and hours 
shuffled like wine-stained playing cards. 

This handed down grind, which somehow
evolved into gratefulness, 
embraced with broken arms, 
which we still manage to retain a grip
on for long enough, and to eventually 
suggest a change. 


Failed Excuse

It doesn't seem so quaint and fine,
once it's crawling across your doorstep,
interfering with the breakfast tables;
residing in cupboards and meterboxes,
rifling through handbags and trouser pockets.

Eyes, however, suddenly begin to remove their glaze,
once fabrics and prescriptions beguin 
to burn at the edges and crumble 
at the slightest touch. 
The excuses now run painfully thin, 
like water pouring through crumbling dam cracks.

And now they claim protest,
but only with trepidation, 
a spare hour amongst hypocrisy, 
that still fails to convince them.
they now stir tea in broken cups,
"it will soon pass", they all promise.


The Same Plan

In this equal space, the clash of church
bells and car speakers, screams and barks
entwined like daisy chains around 
the neck of this city,

Washing hung with decomposing pegs,
casting secrets over ancient brick walls
smudged with soot like ash stained tables,
steam from gutters creating a convenient 
fog.

The buildings scraped empty and regenerated,
a crude taxidermy, as cracks widen within 
windows, telephone wires like buntin,
decorated with flags of this disposition. 

Another promised plan, a plaster
over gangrenous wounds, dangles
mid-air but never reaches the ground;
our mouths remain open, but it never
passes our throat. 

-

Jonathan Butcher has had poetry appear in various publications including The Morning Star, Popshot, Picaroon Poetry, The Transnational, Cajun Mutt Press, Mad Swirl, and others. His fourth chapbook 'Turpentine' was published by Alien Buddha Press.

Let’s save our world

Our Lord, who created the world,

He gave us the world as gift,

Let’s rise by living and creating,

The world that only shines light on our lives.

The world is entrusted to us,

It is necessary to share in every pain,

Choosing the good and the bad,

It is necessary to give a correct assessment.

In everyone’s actions and work,

You must have justice and conscience,

Standing guard of the Motherland

You should be a general and a soldier.

However, as more and more scientists,

Innovations are fake and unknown,

Oppressors rule in every corner,

The black spot on his forehead is not removed.

Don’t burn the forests,

Smoke and fog are everywhere,

You feel lack of oxygen and it’s hard to breath,

Because of this, life expectancy is reduced.

Do not use low-quality gasoline,

Do not release carbon monoxide,

Many types of gases are poisonous,

You can’t count the toxins in the air.

An ecological crisis is at the door,

War in every country

They fired shells pollute the air,

Even if they pray every day, in repentance.

Toxins are very harmful to mother,

This also affects the baby,

If parents live a healthy life,

The world will be paradise for every child.

Let’s not see every sin in someone else,

Let’s look at ourselves and understand,

Let’s not weave a spider’s web in the air,

Let’s rebuke the sinner in time.

Let’s go together hand in hand,

Let’s have hope and faith in the future,

Let’s save the world together

Let’s call people to courage.

Elmaya Jabbarova – was born in Azerbaijan. She is a poet, writer, reciter, translator. Her poems were published in the regional newspapers «Shargin sesi», «Ziya», «Hekari», literary collections «Turan», «Karabakh is Azerbaijan!», «Zafar», «Buta», foreign Anthologies «Silk Road Arabian Nights», «Nano poem for Africa», «Juntos por las Letras 1;2», «Kafiye.net» in Turkey, in the African’s CAJ magazine, Bangladesh’s Red Times magazine, «Prodigy Published» magazine. She performed her poems live on Bangladesh Uddan TV, at the II Spain Book Fair 1ra Feria Virtual del Libro Panama, Bolivia, Uruguay, France, Portugal, USA.