we claim
not to be cats
yet our fur is up


uncoiling the snake
hidden strands of DNA


new diet
she only eats
the muffin tops


space station
blinks at me
I recite a  poem


1964 the summer of warped LPs


whiskers
in my gallery
cats


long before
it was complicated . . . 
it was complicated


finding all
the missing data
spam folder


her empty life
she collects vintage jars
to hold nothing


barman icing cocktails shrinkflation


2 am
the call that changed
our lives


rusty train tracks
nobody asks
where they go


breaking camp
in the lemongrass
field mice


chance of rain Silicon Valley in the cloud


lunch break
on city park bench
time with Buddha


designer shoes
she trips over her
privilege 


spilling their pain
so others know
survivors


upturned turtle
in the road
shell-shocked


pregnant . . . 
her dancing shoes
still fit


holding
my boots together
desert sand

Sewer Statue

Like a cast bronze statue

of an American allegator

emerging from the depths

of a metropolitan sewer,

my spirit materializes

from dank storm drains

committed to memory

and mischief, seeking

a response to absurd

allegiances, ridiculous norms

and would-be leaders’

relentless self-service

and childish rants.

Come rise, come rise,

come rise we all now

step beyond fields

of square marble tiles

that reaffirm conformity

and inspire superstition

amongst people who

dare to step on cracks

established, break molds,

and create human flocks

as devoted to tomfoolery as

they are to tucking sheets

without questions.

*****************************************

Murmuration

Coal black plumage on sabbatical

between spiritual and living worlds

ordinary yet mystical blackbirds

guided me away from gravesides

where I’d grown accustomed to tossing

handfuls of dirt onto coffins lowered

into burial holes, endeavoring to maintain

a stout face, warm heart, and reverent mind

as I paid last respects for people I’d lost

and those with dance cards to death’s final waltz.

Ebon speckled clouds lit up the skies

as the blackbirds moved between worlds

like holy ravens imparting omens,

plucking seeds from towering sunflowers,

spreading feathery imas—divine inspiration—

from the tips of their wings and naked beaks;

their melodious harmonies masked oracles

yet delighted my ears which eagerly absorbed

each mystical note, yet avoided eye contact

as tricksters’ shared sacred songs and healed.

*****************************************

Recycling

Like a frustrated mongoose

my USB-C iPhone plug cries out

refusing to recharge as waste paper

burst into flames and plastic endures.

Recycling chewing gum

by crafting teeth-marked chaws—

green, pink, yellow, blue, red,

orange, and purple lumps–

has changed; those days

of sticking it beneath chairs

came and went creative minds

into spearmint ashtrays,

cinnamon door stops,

and licorice paperweights.

I weigh my limited options

in a throwaway culture given to comfort.

seduced by streaming influencers.

mesmerized by celebrity.

*****************************************

Sin Salida Real

Dude ranch entrance signs promise

magical gateways—city slicker portals—

old west access to fatigued quarter horses

or docile mares along hoof hardened trails

each path an exit from the familiar

to an exotic, rugged thoroughfare

showcasing alien pastoral images

teasing one’s sight with kodak color

as the overwhelming scent of sapphire

orchards, blue moon wisteria,

dry eucalyptus, and lavender bundles

fill starved lungs with an ineffable

fragrance distilled in nature’s garden.

True, yes true! Ranch guests exercised

their olfactory senses in big city bellies

breathing in smog, choaking on smoke

inhaling car exhaust like unrefined narcotics

provided means and ends for many metropolitans

working where glass and steel structures

solemnly shaded select sidewalks 

at the whim of municipal planners,

free parking spots existed in memory,

as angry voices merged with the sound

of car horns, street minstrels and traffic.

Back at the dude ranch, city dwellers

reveled in roleplay, scraping horse shit

off of highly polished cowboy boots

shouting like fools as they attempt

to rope calves in small wooden corrals

answerable to no one but themselves

until country trysts and make believe

scenarios confuse dissembling with escape

exits beget entrances, portals lead to prisons.

*****************************************

Manatee Musings

For Anne Waldman

I

heard

Anne Waldman, called

Ginsburg’s spiritual wife,

her Angel Hair Anthology—

The Howl’s first cousin,

restlessly tranquil,

Buddha’s loins

issue a bold lineage,

a priceless odyssey

through light and shadow,

Outriders rocking on edges

of “The Jack Kerouac School

of Disembodied Poetics,”

meditation’s soft underbelly,

a manatee reminder.

Waldman’s soul revisits humanity,

encourages disparate voices:

unchecked,

uncensored,

unimpeded,

unconstrained,

responds to diaspora’s

social signals,

communities under siege,

Rupert Murdock’s minions

mind-numbing brainwash

of twisted truths, invented factoids,

political assignations.

Sing on like the manatee,

Anne, sing on.

A Washington-based author, poet, educator, and Pushcart Nominee, Sterling Warner’s works have appeared in such literary magazines, journals, and anthologies The Raven’s Perch, Lothlórien Poetry Journal, Ekphrastic Journal Review, Bewildering Stories, and Verse-Virtual. Warner has written over a dozen volumes of poetry/fiction including Without Wheels, ShadowCat, Edges, Memento Mori, Serpent’s Tooth, Flytraps: Poems, Cracks of Light: Pandemic Poetry & Fiction, Halcyon Days: Collected Fibonacci, Abraxas, Gunills’s, Garden: Poetry, Seaboard Magic (2026)—as well as Masques: Flash Fiction & Short Stories.  He currently writes, hosts “virtual” poetry/fiction readings, turns wood, and enjoys fishing and boating along the Hood Canal.

—————————————————————–

in a dumpster

a wet fart at three in the afternoon

a black woman taking advantage

of my kindness

a sunday driver on a thursday

40 in a 55, no place to pass

the mind drifts

lola by the kinks comes on

the radio

who hasn’t fallen for one

of those

the smell of burning rubber

another relic from the past

in a dumpster

hanging on to memories

that no one else wants

now on the highway

headed to somewhere even

less exciting

death just around the next

corner

ten more years to wait

never was any fucking

good at timing

——————————————————

the hamster

sometimes i feel like the hamster

that learned that fucking wheel

goes nowhere

wishing the water was actually

gin or vodka, maybe moonshine

and i really want to love

i really want to live

but all these years are conspiring

against me

too old for the obstacle course

too old to play these fucking

games

i’ll be over in the corner

ice on my back

shotgun ready for the

inevitable

save me or help me aim

each is an act of love

let that sink in

——————————————————

down to the bottom

sometimes the pain

becomes this anchor

dragging me down

to the bottom

all my friends are

down there

hide the needles

we start quoting kerouac

but no one wants to come

down from the mountain

someone pretends they

can play coltrane better

than anyone else

i tell the bartender to

cut that fucker off

give me all his drinks

eventually, i’ll slip

into the beyond

for a few minutes

embrace the nothingness

as the only thing that was

ever real

a broken kiss

and a final embrace

no such thing as goodbye

——————————————————

even the children

subtle beauty

lost in the wild lust

of a world trying to

die

no fucks given

no tomorrow ever

promised

even the children

can understand

impending doom

and all the beauty

can hear is laughter

never good enough

never loved enough

settled for one too

many one night stands

all just entries for a

diary no one ever

wanted to read

it all ends up in a

dive bar

snorting something

white just for kicks

a bourbon, a scotch

fuck, you know

the song

—————————————————-just a middle finger

no urgency in your kiss

reckless abandon has

left us all

a plea for help

in a world of

deaf ears

and sign language is more

than just a middle finger

somewhere burroughs puts

the apple on your head and

says it will all be over soon

enough

fucker won’t even cook

you up a shot

and this is what it is

one man’s tragedy is

some fucker’s delight

the tension so thick

you can taste it

your final escape

a lifetime of piss poor

choices

only a fool would ever

expect a better outcome

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know where the bodies are buried. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Yellow Mama, The Beatnik Cowboy, The Rye Whiskey Review, Night Owl Negative and Disturb the Universe Magazine. His most recent book, to live your dreams, published by Whiskey City Press, is available at Amazon.com. you can find it by clicking here: https://a.co/d/0frIpA15

Artificial Intelligence: The Creator’s Ally or Assassin?

I recently found myself in a heated debate with an acquaintance who made a rather chilling claim: “Soon, your writing won’t be worth a dime. AI will do it in seconds, for free, and most importantly, without a single mistake.” I fell silent for a moment. It’s a brutal, yet logically haunting thought, isn’t it? Are we—the creators, writers, artists, and architects of ideas—being stripped of our ancestral throne of “creativity”? Or is this just another wave of panic in the face of a technological revolution?

In reality, modern neural networks are essentially massive statistical vaults, a sophisticated dance of mathematical probabilities. They’ve devoured millions of texts and “digested” thousands of paintings. They can mimic Shakespeare’s prose, Van Gogh’s strokes, or Beethoven’s melodies. But one fundamental question remains unanswered: Why are they doing it? For an AI, creation is simply calculating the probability of where the next word or color should land. To a machine, the word “love” differs from “hate” only by its digital code. For a human, however, creation is pain, lived experience, and the sleepless nights hidden behind every period placed on a page. A machine can render a beautiful image, but its hands don’t tremble while drawing, and its heart doesn’t skip a beat with excitement.

In my view, artificial intelligence is not the assassin of the creator, but rather the arch-enemy of “mediocrity.” If your work consists merely of ready-made templates, repetitive thoughts, and soulless data, then yes—admittedly—AI will replace you easily and mercilessly. Machines understand patterns better than humans ever will. But your personal character, your past traumas, and those peculiar, sometimes irrational, yet deeply sincere perspectives—no algorithm can replicate that.

History shows us that when the camera was first invented, painters spiraled into a similar panic: “Art is dead! Everything looks real now; we are obsolete!” But what actually happened? Painting didn’t vanish; instead, it evolved. Artists moved away from simply copying the external world and began to capture its inner essence and emotion—giving birth to Impressionism, Cubism, and Abstraction. The camera wasn’t a rival; it became a powerful new tool. Today, AI is our modern “brush” or “pen.” It assists us with the mundane and the tedious: fixing grammar, brainstorming ideas, or structuring drafts. But the final spark that breathes “life” into a piece of work still comes from the human soul.

I envision the future as a bipolar landscape. On one side, there will be an endless flood of AI-generated content—cheap, fast, and superficial. You could compare it to “fast-food creativity”: it fills the stomach but leaves the spirit starving. On the other side, work crafted by human hands, beautiful in its imperfections and smelling of personality, will become a true luxury. People will grow weary of the machine-generated perfection and begin to crave human sincerity—that unique, slightly “chaotic” touch of a real person.

Ultimately, artificial intelligence is a vast mirror. It reflects the world we know, the texts we’ve written, and the images we’ve dreamt up. It is neither my friend nor my assassin. It is my echo. As long as I have my own thoughts, my own voice, and a unique word to say to the world, no line of code can ever take my place. Therefore, it’s time to stop the fruitless struggle against technology and start learning how to wield it. In this new era where “Chaos” reigns, only those creators who refuse to lose themselves will survive.

Shahnoza Amonboyeva— A student of the Faculty of Computer Engineering at Urgench State University, an explorer carving her path at the intersection of technology and creativity. She is the author of several analytical articles, with her work featured in prestigious anthologies. An active participant in international quiz competitions, she holds numerous certificates and official membership in an international association. Her current academic goals include winning the University Rector’s Scholarship and prestigious national named scholarships. Looking ahead, she aims to become a leading expert in her field by enhancing her professional qualifications in various countries worldwide.

My Baby Moon

I miss you

as the lonely nights pass

your silence slowing the wind

blinking back the tips of tears

I stand still

finally stooping to my knees

the grass moist and cold

a comet from my heart

breaking loose

streaking upward to you

my love

My Love

please

remember me.

Touching

I’ve written thousands of poems

never sent

to you

undercover all over the internet

thinking somehow you would know

they are for you

telling of my soul

within the multiple waves of thought

and the secrecy of the heart

our minds

somehow touching

with a sphere of imagination

and truth.

Forever

The way

before us

within our living

and wondering

an wakening

open eyed

and beating hearts revolving

around a swirl of emotions

dictating and delivering

a life

heavenly directed

and bound

solid in each other’s

grip of forever youth.

The most widely used big data and database concepts in the current era attract everyone’s attention. There are five main features that distinguish Big Data from the database. First of all, the volume of data is much larger than the database, that is, what was considered 100 gigabytes in the initial period is now measured in terabytes and petabytes. Secondly, each piece of information must have a certain value. That is, it is important that each piece of collected data has certain values. Third, ensuring that data in large databases is accurate and reliable, and that each piece of data is accurate and of high quality, is one of the most important issues.

Fourth, it is important that the data in a large database does not consist of only one type. For example, only relational tables are used in the database. Big data includes text, audio, video, and sensor data. Fifth, and most importantly, the speed of the data, that is, each piece of data must be created at high speed. And this is analyzed in real time in a large database. So, big data is any constantly changing set of data collected from any large-scale sources. Large amounts of data are usually measured in exabytes, terabytes, and petabytes.

Everyone is wondering how this term came about. The term “big data” was popularized in 2008 by Nature editor Clifford Lynch in an article about the rapid growth of data. The term big data emerged in 2008, but before that, 5 exabytes of data were collected by 2003, according to IDC. By 2025, this figure will reach 185 exabytes. 1 exabyte = 1 billion gigabytes. It is clear that the rapid increase in users on social media, the use of artificial intelligence in the economy and banking sectors, and the digitization of every industry are leading to an increase in the size of the database.

The most important thing is that large amounts of data are not just collected, but processed. And in the case of the above-mentioned features, it is processed. It is important to ensure that any information is reliable, and that the collected data retains its value for later use. We mainly use Apache and NoSQL systems for big data processing. Apache processes large amounts of data very quickly, allowing for real-time analysis in a short period of time. Essentially, Apache Spark processes data in RAM, not on disk. The ML library is also available in Apache Spark, which we need the most. NoSQL is a state-of-the-art database created to store large amounts of data as well as data in a variety of formats (videos,images,audios,sensors).Unlike SQL we used in the database itself.

Because the database is mainly relational tables, it is convenient to use SQL. NoSQL can also contain data in different formats. The term big data can be used in conjunction with the term machine learning. As the name suggests, machine learning is when a machine learns from data. ML collects data in real time and clears unnecessary data from memory. There are several ML algorithms in big data analysis. In this case, each algorithm performs a specific task. Regression algorithms are mainly used to forecast market prices and demand.

Artificial neural networks analyze complex data based on artificial intelligence. In conclusion, the use of ML in large data gives us several advantages and disadvantages: it analyzes large data quickly, provides transparency, performs decision-making processes without human intervention, is constantly updated, further increases the efficiency of work in Banking, Economics, e-commerce and medicine. One disadvantage is that each algorithm requires large volumes of data and powerful servers. So, when we use any systems, we need to thoroughly study them and be able to correctly use large amounts of data if we make the right decisions.

Oʻrinboyeva Ziynatjon, Uzbekistan 

VOLUNTEERING — GENUINE HELP OR JUST FOR A CV?

Feruza Otaboyeva

First-year student of Urgench State University

In today’s highly developed 21st century, the concept of volunteering has also reached a high level. However, there are people who do it sincerely from the heart, as well as those who do it only for personal benefit. So, what should be the real purpose of volunteering?

First of all, volunteering improves the lives of many people and benefits society. For example, by providing social and economic support to poor people and the elderly, we can improve their living conditions, even if only slightly. This proves that volunteering should be done sincerely and wholeheartedly. Moreover, by becoming volunteers, we can contribute to improving the condition of our mother nature. There are many ways to do this, such as protecting nature, caring for animals, cleaning streets and canals, and participating in environmental campaigns. By taking part in such activities, each of us should realize our human responsibility. It is not without reason that in Uzbekistan, state and non-state organizations are encouraged to participate in community clean-up activities every Saturday during certain seasons. The main purpose behind this is to awaken humanity, responsibility, and a sense of involvement in social issues among people.

However, there is another side to the issue. Nowadays, many people, especially young people, participate in volunteering mainly for their CVs. They treat volunteering as something done only for appearance’s sake. To put it more openly, many participate only if they are guaranteed a certificate or some other proof that can strengthen their CV. The reason for this is that prestigious universities, international colleges, and famous companies often ask applicants about their volunteering experience. Unfortunately, some people misunderstand this and simply go to events to take photos without making any real contribution. However, those respected organizations are not looking for empty photos or documents; they are looking for genuine individuals who can truly benefit society in the future.

In addition, some people publicly display every good deed they do by posting it on social media. In such cases, their main purpose is not necessarily their CV, but rather gaining popularity and improving their public image.

As for my own opinion, volunteering itself means “doing work willingly,” and from this we can understand that it should be done voluntarily and sincerely without expecting any benefit in return. Even if we do not expect anything, volunteering still provides many advantages. For example, for young people, it can serve as preparation for real life and provide valuable life experience. Modern forms of volunteering, such as translation or interpreting activities, can help us gain useful professional experience for the future. Moreover, volunteering can develop feelings such as kindness, compassion, friendship, and gratitude. For instance, by caring for sick people, we can learn to care about others and appreciate what we already have.

In conclusion, volunteering should mainly be an activity done sincerely and willingly by a person. It offers many benefits, such as gaining experience and developing gratitude. Of course, volunteering is also useful for a CV — that is true — but we should include only the volunteering activities we genuinely participated in, not photos or evidence taken merely to deceive others.