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We are alongside
           the LOVE
With us
   ☆ Heart reins
       about & within.
Your
  House is undiminished

Rest now
   this cup is pure aether
      Before after &
               Between
          Unsourced
            as faith
              Rings the
                  touch
An
 untimely presence
  turns its own clock
whenever it joins in Trust

    The universe is
              in verse
 A story
      told
And quite frankly
Still quite
 young

                                                ............



by John Edward Culp 
   Sunday morning 
   January 28, 2024

***

а chick that has fallen from a nest into the water cannot swim

the water becomes covered with a crust of ice

the chick feels like a fish in its belly

the world poured out from the cracked shell spills out into the silensе

a dead hen laid a wasted vain egg


***

dragonfly drinks

the voice of stone

the night swallows up

the spring


***

tree turns into a crucifixion cross

no one asks the tree why it grew


I kiss you while you sleep in next your dreams

no one asks me what I wish for


***

you need to dress warmer because the cemetery under the bed is still growing and the snow continues to fall in silence

for silence

to silence


flowers dream of knowing nothing about the grave and I don’t want to know anything about you

about snow

about death


sperm looking for its nest

the nest is looking for something to fill its emptiness


I'm aiming a shooting star at my temple

the world around goes out



***

Horizon blushes

Sunrise hues in bloom cascade

Daybreak's painted sky



(With AI)



***

Ocean whispers softly,

Tides paint poetry.



(With AI)



***
a leaf of my soul is torn off

I haven't seen sakura for a long time
I've never seen sakura

***
the master's face 
in the mirror of my freckles

***
bird gypsum

my eyes are stuck in the web of the sky

***
Who among us has not fallen in love 
with a young Justin Bieber in his youth?

Icons with saints and a poster
with pop stars are torn off the walls of a collapsed house

Star 82 review reprint

***
the swallow is crying blue

***
brother is a brute brutus

***
I won't be able to be one day

***
stomach ripped open with tears

***
headlight light lantern light eye light
night in the hood

***
In the moonlit forest 
I want to die australopithecus

***
the drum dies loud

***
the notes of the music 
will evaporate in the air

***
injury leaves
grass and glass
water and sun

***
dry cough
wet forehead
winter

***
T r e p
T r i p
R i p
I p
I


***
The stars drowning in the night 
Do not shine for anyone

***
Even kittens can die

***
I go out into the snow
I become snow

***
I'm drawing
I'm drawing
I'm drawing
I'm blind

***
Green grass
Green glass

Injuries

***
Beetles can't sing

***
The dog god was born in the cold
Every dog came into this world cold
From what silence of thought to mold the resurrection and death of a pagan god
And suddenly God will not be resurrected?
Will it suddenly turn out that this god does not belong to the pagans?


All the religions of the world struggle with the bag of death
Is it for life?
Cowardice is noted by every dog
Fleeing is blood-soaked
Hunger or the palms of the dog god
The palmless paws of the dog god
Godless dogs


Every stray dog is a dog god born in the cold

(The Wise Owl reprint)

***
autumn draws winter

***
how a chicken uses a microwave
a black star lights up in the sky

burn like chicken on the grill
or live like a bird that cannot fly 
for slaughter

***
kings are everywhere 
even in the mirror


***
tastes could not be discussed 
the proud tree is silent as before
but now in the form 
of a paper cup 
for coffee


***
no one asked the grass why it grew and uprooted it
the grass is our home
grass is our glass
wallpaper glue doesn't hold the wallpaper of the homeless well


***
baby was born in the grass
grass was born in a child
the sun shines in the summer for everyone

      Learning Situation

There may, especially in times 
of civil int’resting unrest,
be hid ‘midst heroes – who’d solve crimes,
believing weaker folks’ good best –
badged rogues who’d stop at no excess –
to savagery against suspects,
karate-chop pat-downs, regress;
on courage, honor, cast their hex,
leave victims sexually tortured.

Idealists who took a stand,
Once let out of this devil’s-orchard,
must face their love, although unmanned.
Their love is beauty, nothing less,
who knows to love where courage grows
but now finds love a harrowed mess –
distrait, stand-offish.  Why?  Who knows?

One may have suffered worse groin pains
in downhill bike falls, but – it’s strange –
this ache won’t go away.  The change
will bring unbid but oft’ his brains
all addled vivid bright recall
of dingy green precinct back room,
his hands upon the chilly wall,
his legs spread wide in civic gloom.


We’d cellmates been in protest time –
while I too had attacked a pig,
foolhardy vainglory for rhyme
it was – hardly a thing as big
as bravery.  (Though like outrage
they’d dealt me, small discomfort lingers –
my first night free did much assuage.
I’m just glad they spared my fingers.)

They’d thrown him howling through the door:
“Strike, coward scum, and from behind –
thus justice mock since law’s no more
where peacekeepers have lost their mind!”
He ceased his anguished hoarse harangue
and climbed onto the upper bunk.
Our cell door slid closed with a clang
as back into my bed I sunk.

His thrashings kept waking me up
for long into ceaseless glare.
I gave him water in a cup,
he fin’ly slept without nightmare.
Then after quiet hours went by
wherein he didn’t even snore
I guess he must have heard me sigh
for, leaping to the iron floor
he said his name, stuck out his hand.
I shook it, told him “Call me Jack.”
He taught up at the college, planned
This lecture for when he got back:

“When any revolution’s inchoate
if it’s at all, such autocratic lock
the Powers have on ev’ry human fate
the chance that dissidence with fight will mock
the pomp of armed enforcers isn’t great.
Few act upon disgust that many feel.
But character, integrity will rate
with some despite the odds, which are surreal.
Then luckily the losers themselves find
In what we call a learning situation:
What ruthless motherfuckers do them bind
Is matter for the wonder’s contemplation.”

I said that would his students well
Forearm.  He thanked me.  We discussed
specific treatment, what befell
us both since brought in on this bust,
and which side in particular –
they differed ‘tween the both of us –
received insult testicular.
He then reflected – with a cuss:

“It seems this adds another facet
to passions positive as well – 
how tell my girl now in tacit
accents exactly what a hell
her country is, what fiends its cops,
what force ensures wage-slave docility,
what gratis ache that hardly stops
our bliss infects and my virility – 
No! – she must be carefully shunned.
A note with disengagement ring
will say, ‘Sweetheart, love’s moribund.
You’re not to blame, though, that’s the thing.
You know you take it personal
when griefs hit folks that aren’t their fault.
But now the ghetto I’ll home call
while you continue to exalt
delight – but new guy overjoy –
for I this shaman must consult
to help your mad ex-lover-boy
again in ecstasy exult….’ –
I’ll not write that, just disappear.
To flee’s the better part of valor.
Of missing history buff she’ll hear,
I’ll spare her any further pallor.”   

21st century is the era of technology and today we cannot imagine our life without social networks. Just like “every good thing has its bad side”, social networks have their good and bad aspects, of course. Well, let’s take a look at both sides of this issue.

   Today, 95 percent of the population of our republic widely use social networks (Telegram, Instagram, Facebook, Google…). Because the Internet has become one of the main needs of our daily life. In addition, there is a saying that social media and the Internet make our distance closer and our burden lighter! Now we don’t have to travel thousands of kilometers to see our relatives and friends who live in another country or region, get the books we want to read from a library far away from us, spend money to buy the necessary manuals and textbooks, or waste time and deliver the necessary document for our workplace. All these tasks can be done easily and conveniently through social networks. As an example, today I have many friends who live in different regions of our country and other countries. Samarkand, Bukhara, Tashkent and several others… I have not visited all these places, of course. I met, exchanged ideas and then became friends through social networks. In addition, until now, some of my creative works have been published in newspapers and magazines of several countries, such as Turkey, Germany, and India. Of course, I don’t need to go to those state publishing houses and presses in order for my creative products to be seen in the world. I can find the e-mail addresses of any state newspapers and magazines and contact them using only Telegram or Facebook. In such situations, we really feel that social networks are an integral part of our lives.

 But we must admit that the main part of our life is spent on media sites such as Instagram and YouTube. Especially in our society, there are many people who watch other people’s lives and lifestyles through Instagram, comment on them, put their own lives aside, and waste their valuable time by “liking” strangers’ videos or photos. As a result of many distractions in such programs and networks, there are many family disputes, among us there are people who fell under the influence of the virtual world and separated from their personal life by loving gadgets…

     Basically, everyone has their own limits and rules for using social networks. I cannot come to a firm conclusion that they should not be used, but taking into account both aspects, it is appropriate to always use them in moderation, in my opinion.

 Lobar Davronova. Uzbekistan

***
Autumn leaves us badly,
Fall down dear maple trees...
Autumn is hard for us
Began to sell faiths, plows.

The price will be high,
Endless love means.
Last winter was like a famine
I have had enough of patience.

...Oh, it's winter!
The blanket of the village is on fire!
Every ignorant, stupid person dried the pillow.
Be:
"I write!
I don't care!"

I walk one step,
of wide hills
Can I restore your clothes?
In which sun will I dry now,
Dad's waterproof boots.

The eyelashes of pleasant gardens are wet,
Like me, he reads and cries at night.
This is a village, even if it is a patchwork
He had a whole heart!

When the foxes outside tease
Snakes wait in the shelter,
Wow!
Hey!
Thief dogs are fun
My dad's only boot is amazing

Nilufar Ergasheva was born in 2005 in Fergana region. Erkin Vahidov graduated from creative school. Currently, she is a student of the 1st stage of UzMU and the winner of the State Prize named after Zulfiya.

From the Street to the Sky

The Pleiadians

It was the witching hour and I opened the window and watched and listened to the leaves tumble through the streets like restless spirits. I was listening intently to a transcript by the Pleiadians and they had much to say about the universe. They mentioned that a person should be constantly praying, praying all the time, as a matter of habit, if even in the background. I inhaled the cool fall air and prayed but also prayed that my headache would go away. Soon enough the sky would begin to brighten, but it would happen slowly. Not an alien mothership, but the natural cycle of night becoming dawn… 

The Bright Sun

…later inside the day, I ate with my beloved in a Mexican restaurant. There was nobody there and it was dark and calm, for the sun was too bright and even blinding outside. I liked the coffee but did look briefly at the drawings of margaritas on the wall. There were some skeleton statues on a ledge and I thought of Malcolm Lowry and his books and his life and also his death. He had a book I did not read, a book called As Dark as the Grave Wherein my Friend is Laid. Outside, after, I am of two minds about the sun. It is dangerous for the drivers can’t see, yet it is nature, the way of nature. Some birds gather on a long telephone wire. I want to stay and watch them but the world moves fast, and I also have things to do. 

The Nerd Unseen

I can see the nerd’s soul. It is better than others, and quiet and actually has a lot of happiness. Well adjusted. The cool adults are not cool at all. They are ‘of the world,’ as the Christians say. There is music playing somewhere and I can hear the wind. The day is winding down. Red brick houses wait in rows. I, too, will find and wear spectacles. It’s getting windy. I long for the night. Inside the night will be a time to read and write, to think and meditate. And to pray like the  Pleiadians said and which I do anyhow. The nerd will be okay, was always okay. Sweater weather. Autumnal colours. Book reading. Diary writing. Quiet spiritual and intellectual ascension. The nerd by their character transcends the world, and the world is full of war, deceit, lies, disappointments. The world is rife with trouble. 

Jesus Made a Prayer

It is the witching hour again. I re-open the window. Something dawns on me before the dawn. Jesus made that prayer. I say the words slowly. The tarot card reader is reading and sometimes uses profanities yet she is highly and sometimes completely accurate. She is of the light. But the prayer. -Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, they will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…- and I go slowly through the rest. For some reason it makes more sense then than it ever had. An internal heartfelt sense. I fall asleep. When I wake up something heavy or melancholic has lifted. The day is new. Though a bit far off, in distance and in time, the lake birds will silhouette themselves in the evening firmament over the lakes. 

valley 

the valley is still there, mostly unknown for I can see the tracks. some souls, sometimes, I guess go there. the autumnal leaves cover most of the ground whilst old fallen trees expose root systems and one thinks of some quietly strange and mysterious world of elves or faerie folk, devas or other nature spirits. how silent that valley world can be. I know the routes into it, and the ones out. you can climb a steep way, and be out shortly, or go long meandering routes and take your time, ascending like a gradual but confident spiritual journey. in the winter it shall be covered in a million or more flakes of snow that glisten in the sun or else don’t, for the saturnine lack of light in the overcast afternoon, the bully clouds conspiring to keep out the brightness. spring rains,- little wildflowers pop up, declaring their existence and life and song and love. summer,- heat and the sudden breeze briefly relieves the journeying. yes the valley is still there, and as the world outside continues its drama and mistakes, it’s pride and error, it’s deceit and unchecked ambition, valley remains stoic, sagacious, maybe even sacrosanct like an undisturbed guru -spiritual master. ah valley, it was nice to see you again.