Chute Me Like Verlaine; or, Red &Hot in the cit Y,,, Riffer Phonix…

Aka47GHc, return to blander

.

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And rhus a rental applicant 

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Tour car we’re inuitin’ into it in putting the h in i m

Putting the urgency in M an’ OMMM

Styx up –

THey spiked my eyes with a Hortense

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Double you hoops

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H or

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Club 7

Heaven is 11 judge harpoon mercys marx heathens heaving 

Fark

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Hell fish in the cell Fitch. Miles. You can vince mcmahon me later. Duvets. Snerabloids Kelly slaughter.

House five in the air

Shooboozey dupey i be cute this drop together Wop, wop, wop…

Lets do it up2

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“And what about this heresay itz not funny Treason Quitline???”

“I got the idea from this big time John. Taylor Swift.”

Where are my cokehead failures?

Cola blu collars at what a beaut codswallop. As is this is i owe you tje nu nu

Fuck T. Rump.swallows. Ddt rum. Bolos. P? The economy gets on with me. Tie. Honestly… this will off

Voodoo that sweet chile of 

I went all allende

Murk and ma.d. i. Mooney

The style is Jigsaw Rap. I come from the lambda of plenty

Dude Yours is truly psycho julie is this caesar seized salad the throw backs to the salcious go gaffs. The power’s out of ballads, and, weave a roady boken up with the boating shoes the rule of fortune. Fortetude . Once again , in the coffee to my cup of loco, their Universal pixels eyes pick ya

Hodgy beats

Im specious. So, so special. K gotta have some of your – tentacle attention in zz curtsy embassy vonnegutted the amenities me too Plunder blunderphonics under neath with her her neat sonic youth screw pile drivers under wear out the know how kitty maggot is the lazy susan bad dest. To be. Loose in Ghc. Or node spruce moose ward 2d. Mt. Or That is pop druitt art straight out of compton threw up our pimpley mind you suck this tribe’called question

Socialterity

Remember the r e m embers these parts of me to breathe. Out Nah. Forget how to be. Found. Hart

Crane up there for your neckids.

Or, imma – what Snickers? – it beggars

Man hunt belief? Tor up s thompson street pa u lie.

And not just about chorale reef!

Next to me is a b cut up a clean figure c 8 balls all in the pocket

Silver rocket Uppers they warned me

All.

Debt is a lie. Pilcher forests

CizUxurize. Stitch up u guys. 2. Left 

To forage

Leaf sentience for an age that is we’re back ending up under their lifeshow miss took my aegis mis laid life

Sentences to bling you deficits surround us want you like our coffee welk grounded as a hogs breath lesson 1 floundered. Said

Give me a Pound, E.z. or youre

My rock

Bottoms up! God wins all in of youre

 laws, bud.

P.s. tech ically i should probs reresd it, cos made some start changes, but idk, idk,

America declared its independence from British dependence,

But continues to depend on hating the other and

Hate has always been and will always be about fear

How ironic that America was instituted by members of the other

That is other than the indigenous natives of the Americas

fleeing persecution for being the other in their homelands…

Only to persecute the natives and project “the other” identify upon them

What is the American “value” system

Other than “systemic” racial suppression?

A questionable choice to uphold

Despotic ideologies of white supremacy!

To choose to demonize and otherize the marginalized

Without accounting for the margins of error in judgement of the ostracized.

Who’s casting the stones?

The silent and the complacent

for through your silence,

Imposing imperialists have garnered your consent.

Don’t be a voiceless puppet and voice your dissent!

Reacquaint yourself with your history

Reaffirm your contributions to humanity 

Do NOT let colonial dictators dictate your story! 

For it was “the others” who built this country

This American land of freedom and liberty?!

The enslaved Africans,

The FIRST known civilization in human history

Who toiled and sowed the earth only to reap

Inequality and brutality.

The indigenous American Indians:

The original “founding fathers”

 Initially labeled “savages”

Unfit to inhabit American lands 

They already cultivated for over 10,000 years,

That is longer than the Europeans were in Europe!

Only to coincide with European tribal genocide…

Later a great lot would succumb to suicide!

The Asians who built the transcontinental railroad

Connecting the east to the American west only to be deemed

Unworthy dog and cat eating slobs

who threaten white American jobs…

Now that pejorative has been projected onto Haitians from Haiti, 

the once RICHEST country in the Americas,

Whose monetary fluency France used to supplement

The American fight for liberation under the toe of British oppression

Les Chasseurs Volontaires D’haiti,

The Volunteer Chasers from Haiti

Who chased the Brits from Savannah, Georgia

The largest group of fighters of African descent

WERE the Haitians now immortalized through a monument for posterity.

All the enslaved Africans who quite literally

“Built” America are ALL worthy of human dignity.

For it was Afro-Haitian explorer Jean Baptiste DuSable

Who was the “founding father” of Chicago!

Cut from the cloth of the same persecuted people

Who are now being branded as “dog and cat eaters”

To supplement the cause of socio-politico fearmongers…

What is the American “value” system?

Besides “systemic” racial suppression and

Despotic “values” and ideologies of White Supremacy?

Bearing in mind that “hate” is NOT a “value”.

It is the narrative of “fear” from the oligarchy!

[Previously published in Wilderness House Literary Review]

*Please Note: Inspired by Guardian Scapegoating article on Asians and Haitians eating pets

Jacques Fleury is a Boston Globe featured Haitian American Poet, Educator, Author of four books and a literary arts student at Harvard University online. His latest publication “You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self”  & other titles are available at all Boston Public Libraries, the University of Massachusetts Healey Library, University of  Wyoming, Askews and Holts Library Services in the United Kingdom, The Harvard Book Store, The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, Amazon etc…  He has been published in prestigious publications such as Wilderness House Literary Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, Litterateur Redefining World anthologies out of India, Poets Reading the News, the Cornell University Press anthology Class Lives: Stories from Our Economic Divide, Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene among others…Visit him at:  http://www.authorsden.com/jacquesfleury.

Enakhan Siddikova’s poem

“O walk in the world of the heart,

Teach your heart to follow your heart.

Do whatever it takes.

Teach me to be happy with you.”

Don’t make life difficult, don’t make him cry

Do not sink into the abyss forever.

An evening tormented by the torment of conscience,

To call someone a friend is to help him.

Don’t ask me what’s wrong, my friend.

Its melody is trust, its garden is loyalty.

Instantly knocks down a thousand-year-old wall,

A little hatred if felt in the hearts.

O walk in the world of the heart,

Teach your heart to follow your heart…

Nilufar Anvarova, 8th grade student of the creative school named after Erkin Vahidov.

Contributor Eva Petropolou Lianou would like to let us know about this call for submissions of poetry to benefit a writer in Gaza (whom we’ve also published).

Also, contributing poet Christina Chin has a new book available now on Amazon, “First Day of the Rest.” This is a special project, a collaborative haibun/haibunga book written with Michael Hough, poet, composer, and musician featuring both photos and art by the authors. More about the book here.

Next, an announcement from contributor Chimezie Ihekuna, who is seeking an investor/executive producer for the project, One Man’s Deep Words. It is set in the US, details here.

Also, poet and prose writer Christopher Bernard would like to share that his magazine, Caveat Lector, will be giving a reading to commemorate the Winter 2025 issue, at Clarion Performing Arts Center. Information and address here.

In this issue, our international contributors address themes of passion.

Some writers explore this concept in the way modern people tend to understand it, with pieces on love of various sorts.

Madaminova Ogiloy’s tender poem praises the kindness and care of her mother. Ilhomova Mohichehra reflects on the steady consistency and dedication of her father. Xonzoda Axtamova honors a mother who cared for her children despite her own struggles.

G’ulomjanova Marjona reminds us that family love and care for parents should come before materialism and success in our short lives.

Anindya Paul’s piece compares the pressure of a son trying to live up to his father’s expectations to that of a father doing his best to provide for and raise children.

Teachers and other professionals also extend deep concern for the children under their care. Azadbek Yusupov outlines effective ways to evaluate teachers’ classroom performance. Medical student Dilshoda Izzatilloyeva outlines causes and treatments of pneumonia in young children.

Rus Khomutoff evokes a mix of spiritual and sensual feelings in his transfixing concrete dream poem. R.K. Singh’s poetry explores the feelings of men and women navigating complex sensual desires and emotions: fear, danger, lust, and ecstasy that can come with intimacy. Mark Blickley fills out the story in a bawdy Greek myth in historical speculative fan fiction.

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal fantasizes about imagined romances as his body slowly decays with time. Doug Holder crafts a mood of giddy romantic anticipation in his ekphrastic accompaniment to Gieseke Penizzotto Denise’s painting.

While the word has come to be associated with romantic emotion, the word “passion” comes from an old Latin word for suffering and originally referred to the willingness to endure much to reach one’s goals. Some of our contributors celebrate this kind of determination and perseverance, on their paths to personal or creative development or just to survive in the world.

Jacques Fleury reviews Lyric Stage Boston’s production of Lynn Nottage’s play Crumbs from the Table of Joy and discusses how the show highlights the struggles of working-class Black people for full inclusion in the United States.

In Bill Tope’s short story, a young woman rebels against the humiliation of an oppressive dress code.

Graciela Noemi Villaverde draws on gardening metaphors to describe the cultivation of character over time. Feruza Sheraliyeva writes of the corrosive nature of corruption on society and urges every individual to uphold ethical standards. Asadbek Yusupov outlines the balance between individual rights and civic responsibilities in Uzbekistan. Aminova Dilbar highlights the value placed on inter-ethnic harmony, equality, and mutual respect in Uzbekistan, codified into the highest levels of government.

David Sapp’s poetic speaker wishes to transcend this life to a higher spiritual plane, but human feelings keep calling him back to this mortal coil. Kieu Bich Hau remains resolute during her time of soul-searching loss on the shores of Italy’s Lake Como. Michael Robinson speaks to how his faith in Christ gives him joy and peace as he undergoes dialysis. Abigail George’s essay speaks to what it means to create in times of great struggle and societal marginalization.

Anna Keiko celebrates individuality in her short poem, encouraging readers to be unafraid to be themselves. Z.I. Mahmud highlights themes of female emancipation and agency and freedom from existing purely for the male gaze in Sylvia Plath’s poetry.

In his Reflective Thinking spoken word album and screenplay concept One Man’s Deep Words, Chimezie Ihekuna mulls over what makes for a wise and satisfying life. Sometimes, satisfaction can come through dedication to one’s craft.

Jacques Fleury’s poem on a day of solitude reminds us of what unites us all as human beings and brings his literary and cultural aspirations to clearer focus.

Stephen Bett evokes the feeling of hearing performance poetry at a reading in his concrete-ish piece, and also jeers at weaponized misogyny and reflects on chemical happiness. Patrick Sweeney crafts one-line poems that become near-stories with a thoughtful reading.

Poet and nature photographer Brian Barbeito outlines his creative process and goals in a creative personal essay. Kylian Cubilla Gomez’ photos this month explore mediated images of nature: drawings and cartoons we create to interface with our world from a step removed.

Actor and writer Federico Wardal spotlights Egyptian actor Wael Elouny and Italian director Antonello Altamura and their new indie film Ancient Taste of Death. Mark Young’s mix of intriguing and explosive visual pieces meld color, shape, text, and design. Texas Fontanella mixes up chatspeak and everyday language in a cyberpunk-style set of surreal anecdotes and shares some intense, wild musical vibes.

Maftuna Mehrojova outlines basics of and new directions in the craft of business marketing and communications. Gulsevar Bosimova describes and takes pride in her proficiency in traditional Uzbek martial arts.

Dilbar Koldoshova Nuraliyevna writes of how Uzbek poet Abdulla Oripov’s works were grounded in his love of his homeland. Joseph C. Ogbonna reflects on his trip from Nigeria to visit John F. Kennedy’s birthplace and rhapsodizes on the glory of the past president and his times.

Another aspect of passion, or love, is grief for what we lose. Ahmed Miqdad mourns loss of life, hope, and joy in Gaza during wartime.

Christopher Bernard laments in mythological, epic language the loss of so much beauty and history to the flames in Los Angeles. Pat Doyne grieves not just the fires in Los Angeles, but the callousness of some in society towards the survivors and the natural environment.

Rob Plath’s poetry conveys the understated numbness of grief and remembrance as Ahmad Al-Khatat’s character sketch illustrates the emptiness and fragility that can come with being displaced from one’s homeland and loved ones. In a more upbeat tone, J.K. Durick recollects fragments of people and literary works that populated his youthful consciousness and now his dreams. Taylor Dibbert reflects on the passage of time through a brief encounter with someone he remembers from long ago.

Linda S. Gunther reviews Nikki Erlick’s novel The Measure, a tale asking big questions about mortality, purpose, and destiny through the lives of carefully drawn, highly individual characters. Wazed Abdullah reminds us to cherish life, with all its ups and downs as Mahbub Alam points out how we are all mortal, how time ticks quickly for us all.

Yucheng Tao’s impressionist poetry touches on themes of memory and loss while Mykyta Ryzhykh draws on imagery of death, decay, and natural renewal.

Lazzatoy Shukurillayeva translates a poem from historical Uzbek poet Alexander Feinberg about the brevity of life and the vanity of assuming you can make yourself great in a short time. Noah Berlatsky humorously reflects on how perhaps most of us do not need to be memorialized through ponderous tomes.

Despite the finite nature of our lives, some people take passionate enjoyment in our ordinary world.

Dr. Jernail S. Anand recaptures the wonder of childhood and urges his fellow adults to reclaim youthful curiosity.

Isabel Gomez de Diego’s photos suggest the wonder in everyday scenes: a mural of a wine toast during a meal, public fountains, loaves of sourdough bread. Lidia Popa waxes poetic on birds and green butterflies as Alan Catlin sends up many different ways of looking at winter, summer, crows, and the moon.

Sayani Mukherjee illustrates the rebirth of sunrise as winter gives way to spring and she rejoins the outdoors in her running shoes.

In another kind of rebirth, we’ve just barely started another planetary journey around the sun. Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa welcomes in the Northern Hemisphere’s wintry New Year and speaks of the difficulty of conveying the feel of snow to someone in a temperate climate. Maria Cristina Pulvirenti’s minuscule haiku captures how snow can muffle sound, dulling the senses to focus your attention.

Daniel De Culla cynically speculates that selfish human nature will not change much in the New Year. J.J. Campbell considers signs of hope in his life, then rationalizes each of them away. And, in another piece, Ahmed Miqdad contrasts the human suffering in Gaza with the world’s joyful holiday celebrations. Pat Doyne reflects on quirky, hopeful, and fearsome bits of 2024’s news cycle and wonders playfully about 2025.

A POET WHO COMES ONCE IN A THOUSAND YEARS

      My country is Uzbekistan.  I couldn’t describe this country, this people, except Abdulla Oripov. 

      — A voice from far away,

      — Tell me, what should I do, grandfather?

      — He is a voice from the Motherland, 

      — Payondoz on their way.

      — The sound came again suddenly,

      — Tell me what to do, grandfather?

      — A world with a burden on its shoulders, 

      — He is your people, help me, my child.

      It is a holy happiness for me to know that I was born in a land of fire from the loving sun, that I live.  My heart is filled with pride and joy to be the child of Abdulla Oripovday Kashkadarya, who is known and recognized as the second Navoi of world literature.

      A person can choose everything in life.  But he cannot choose the blessed Motherland and parents.  Happy land with umbilical cord blood.   My homeland is Uzbekistan.  By his own name, he is a bek, he is a sultan.  Motherland is our grandfather’s legacy, our father’s legacy.  In every line of Abdulla Oripov, he found the independence of the Motherland and its definition. 

      …Only my weak pen is mine, 

         Uzbekistan is my country.

      In the poem “Uzbekistan, My Country, My”, the poet tells a deep story about the past of the Motherland.

      Today, I decided not to criticize Abdulla Oripov’s biography or his poetry collections, but to visit the poet’s homeland, his heart’s blood, his palace.

      My heart sings the ode of the poet “Uzbekistan, my country” like a charming song.

      As I read the poem from the beginning to the end, the glory of our ancestors, the halal bread of Uzbek people, appears in my mind.  My heart trembles like a chained poem because of the dark days and difficult times they have seen.  That’s all you do, old world.  Beruni, Amir Temur, Uluğbek, Ghafur Gulam… .  In this poem, the word “Motherland” finds its form and shape and pace in the blood of the farmer in the field. This feeling flows like hot blood in my body and soul. It screams like a sign of life. Indeed, Abdulla Oripov  A unique poet who glorified and conveyed the value of the homeland in this poem, it is not an exaggeration to say that the heart that has not penetrated into this ode is not an exaggeration. 

      Don’t be sad, my dear,

      Don’t worry about your age.

      Over the centuries,

      Your everlasting love. 

      In the great human family,

      Your forehead is so bright.

      My bright abode is mine,

      Uzbekistan is my country.

      The poet wrote many beautiful poems about the “Motherland”. 

      The poet created by mixing his soul and body.  I understand the poem “Why I love Uzbekistan” as a logical continuation of the ode “Uzbekistan, My Country”.  In this poem too, the artist praises verses about the soil, sky and sun of the Motherland.  While talking about Furqat, Mirza Babur, who became a king and a khan in his own country and a king in other countries, came to my mind.   My heart is already aching.  Because, as the poet said, wherever a person is born, that soil is his land.  If his Motherland is surrounded by a cold country that dominates like ice, he will look warm and give his love.  He bows to this place and this people.

      Well, if they tell me the reason why I love Uzbekistan, before the poet’s beautiful poems – I bow to my motherland.

      Abdulla Oripov is like that, a poet who loved the people and was loved by the people.

      Today, the wind of Independence is blowing in the song that the poet sang… .  In new Uzbekistan, the country is prosperous and the people are happy.  The joy of happiness shines on the faces of our people.  Today, navbahar came to our country full of light and spring full of flowers.  The days of living and living are visited by Navròz.  We are also celebrating the poet’s 82nd birthday on such happy occasions.  This is also a great blessing of God.

Hero of Uzbekistan, People’s Poet of Uzbekistan Abdulla Oripov wrote thousands of poems, epics, dramas.  He translated masterpieces of world literature into Uzbek. 

      If he writes about the poet, he will not do it.  A poet who honors the country and the people always sings the National Anthem of Uzbekistan.  It’s no wonder that this is the pride of the poet’s heart. 

      As I put the last point, I bow to the great poet Abdulla Oripov, who instilled in me and us young people the feeling of loving the Motherland in colorful verses.

      To the homeland, grandfather,

      You have planted flowers. 

      In every line of your poem, 

      You have lost the value of the country.

      This nation, this country,

      How many bloods have you swallowed?

      Before your description ends,

      Today the pen is weak.

      Once in a thousand years,

      A saint like you.

       Kashkadarya region

Koldoshova Dilbar Nuraliyevna, a student of the 10th grade of the 10th grade of the 43rd school of Karshi district.

Dilbar Koldoshova Nuraliyevna was born on March 5, 2007 in the Karshi district of the Kashkadarya region.

   She is currently the 10th “B” student of the 43rd school. 

      Dilbarhan is the queen of poetry, the owner of creativity, a singer with a beautiful voice, and a ghazal girl.

      She came first in the “Leader of the Year” competition.

        1st prize in the regional stage of the “Hundred Gazelles and Hundred Gems” competition.

         It took part in the “Children’s Forum” category and won first place in many competitions.

          She is currently the coordinator of the training department of Tallikuron MFY in Karshi district.

          Kamalak captain of the opposite district.

          Head captain of the “Girls There” club at school 43. 

         The articles titled “Memory is immortal and precious”, “Our School” and “Mother” were published three times in Kenya Times International magazine in 2024.

     In 2023, the first poems were published in the poetry collection “Yulduzlar Yogdusi” of the creative youth of the Kashkadarya region.

      In 2024, ghazals of the creative youth of the Republic were published in the poetry collection “Youth of Uzbekistan”.

My beautiful flower 

You are my angel mother 

You are unmatched in the world 

My mother without paradise 

There is no woman like you in the world 

No even in heaven 

No even yours 

My mother without paradise 

You made me out of nothing 

You who washed and combed white 

You are sorry if I make a mistake 

My mother without paradise 

It is true that I love you 

Itʼs true that I even got hit 

This word is also true. Yes, it is true 

My mother without paradise 

There is little I can do for you 

Even the moon in the sky little 

Just laugh a little 

My mother without paradise 

If I cheer you up with my poem 

If I say my love, my flower 

Donʼt let my father be jealous, mother 

My mother without paradise 

Madaminova Ogiloy was born in 2002 in Kopkopir district of Khorezm region. 3rd stage student of Jizzakh State Pedagogical University. She is currently studying English and Turkish. In her free time, she enjoys reading and baking.

Burning

As the months processed
I surmise a new fall
Flamingo pink skies 
Burning over the horizon
A new Streetlamp hung around my closet
I swam a darkness high 
As I breathe deep I drink a new paradise
Hope's cities has new avenues
Before they all fall a decade high
Hung around still for the spring
Matches for matches 
This is what justice felt like
Over my running shoes 
I knew the darkness has tapestry
So it showed me a matchstick sky
Heaven knows I tried 
For the spring comes 
With burning winter's sickly delicate lace.