It is dedicated to our young athletes who went to the Olympics You are the honor and pride of the nation, You are the original creator of the nation facing the world, You can’t live without the blood of Temurbegu alpomish.

All your native people are praying for you Bring home gold and silver medals! Who has seen the brave girls of my Uzbeg, Be proud of the words of our president, May joy fill those dark eyes of yours, Be proud, don’t let any of your mines fall off the mountain Bring home gold and silver medals. Let history be kind to you, let youth give you courage May God bless you with good luck and happiness

Be such a great person, a building for the future Being born in this country is your real happiness Bring home gold and silver medals. Such a dear place has raised a child like you If he sacrifices for this country, even his life is worth it Uzbekistan is an epic for the whole world

Tell you that I am an Uzbek that the world cannot match Bring home gold and silver medals.

A boy’s plea to a lost home

Bullets fed a young lad’s body when I hid myself under charred bones of my people, we could only see peace in the stories my grandmother told when sanity was still by her side, she could fiction reality into a charming tale. Even though she smelt like war and bullets, she still knitted her country’s anthem to her heart. This is not a tale of a patriotic woman who died as humus for the soil, but simply a plea to let a wandering soul lie peacefully at my backyard.

If only life was a song sang by mother when my father came back with his limbs complete and a head on his body with his uniform hung behind his bruised back . My family is a mindless holocaust of a barbaric nation who spells peace in the letters of protests.

 My father left with fear glued to his mind, he left a wife with fear of her husband coming back in letters he wrote to formalize his good-byes, my mother became a canvass of pain holding my father in myriads of memories.

When death hung under my throat; I could taste its stinging taste. Oh lord……., I beseech you, those words were strangers to my tongue. Who knew lord when I worshipped the bullets that dug holes in my body; I held tears in my heart not ready to flood this burning country. I’m still alive waiting to be burned by the flames of a lost country. So now tell me how to define a country with lost homes I lived in?

Fatima Abdulwahab is a 16 year old poet and essayist. Her hobbies are writing and also reading. She enjoys the company of her family and friends. She was long listed in the African writers award competition 2023 and also the winner of the Arts lounge magazine ( the greens we left behind edition).

The Light Reaching Out


Night shades
compressing into the corner windows


setting the scene
blurring of dreams


walls and ceilings
slow leaning inward


beyond the outside buildings
dimly lit


someone
quietly whistling


much has happened
much will continue


cancer webs hanging from the roofs
so many marked for the sting


political pillows given away freely
spider roots


the masses shadow banned
but more are beginning not to blink


open windows here and there
candle lights glowing in closets


a shot sounding
and the whistling snuffed


thoughts shrink
stillness overwhelming


but there's always some that break
loose


lips moving
prayers filling hollow ears


so many repeating
as when a child


the longness of centuries
giving a tune to the heart


silence
seized


light opening their windows
as the whistling resumes
stronger than ever before.

Rule Over Ashes

In my country where shadows loom,

Ruler cast a pall of gloom.

When Justice Call,

Students stands tall.

They sacrificed their lives,

Answering the call.

They accepted martyrdom,

To bring justice for all.

To rule a nation

To rule a country,

Killing is the only key

Ruler thinks as glory.

Thousands were killed

Thousands were harmed,

Rule over Ashes

Is the way she learn.

If cruelty brings you joy,

Then you’re no human.

If you enjoy ruling over dead bodies,

Then you’re no human.

A heart of flesh, full of compassion,

In merciless acts, finds no fashion.

In false joy finds only hollow,

A human’s path they cannot follow.

Every single life matters

Is the song we play,

In the blink of time

Justice leads the way.

When darkness falls

We’ll light the night,

With patience and hope

We’ll set things right.

————————————————————-

dreams of a burning cross

stand naked in

a field of death

now is as good

a time as any to

wonder where it

all went wrong

soon the sun will

fade to thunder

and lightning

dreams of a

burning cross

with you still

nailed to it

remember the

cute blonde

grinding up

against you

in the club

oh so many

years ago

she was a he

and you missed

out on a night

for the ages

depressed soul

seeking like

minded curvy

female

to die together

or at least fuck

some shit up

along the way

———————————————————-

the morning news

i haven’t

watched

news in

the

morning

in years

sitting here

in the hospital

it’s nothing

but murders,

shootings,

traffic reports

and incoming

rain

i see nothing

has fucking

changed

——————————————-

completely understanding

i tried compassion

but it clashed with

my socks

empathy never smelled

right on me, but i am

a stubborn fuck

i keep putting it on

there’s this woman

in colorado that secretly

loves me but isn’t willing

to have her heart broken

yet again

here i am many miles away

completely understanding

fear builds many walls

i enjoy poking around

and breaking them

down every now

and then

she has no worries

about me breaking

her heart

i worry about her

destroying what

is left of mine

of course, worry

and desire are that

thin line i refuse

to snort

——————————————————

outside of a bookstore

i remember lighting a

cigarette for a beautiful

young woman years ago

as we talked outside of

a bookstore

she told me she read

my poetry and thought

i could do better

i chuckled and said

you sound like all

my teachers when

i was in high school

graduating with honors

so, the easy way is

your path, not that

sexy

i cornered that market

years ago honey, what

is your point

she said never mind

and walked away

i saw her a few days ago

plays the bass in a decent

punk band

i don’t think she remembers

me, which is fine, that is a

long list as well

i would like to let her know

it never was that fucking easy

———————————————-

tethered to the world

faint whispers as the

demons gather to seek

a better solution

pain is a necessary evil

you remind yourself

it keeps you grounded

tethered to the world

you know how to

conquer

this is when the glasses

of booze get a little

stronger

courage is loading

a bullet and saying

goodbye

but this is not a night

for profiles

the faint whispers

are now a scream

coltrane

in the background

all the reasons to stay

have moved on

sometimes, the lights

turn themselves off

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is trapped in suburbia, never knowing when he will be allowed to escape. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at The Rye Whiskey Review, Disturb the Universe Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, Horror Sleaze Trash and The Asylum Floor. He has a new chapbook out with Casey Renee Kiser titled Altered States of The Unflinching Souls. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)