THE MOST AWAKE AMONG THE DEAD

          The near-death experience (NDE) came to me when, one afternoon, I went down to the beach of San Vicente de la Barquera, in Cantabria, when the beach was empty, the sea was rough and there was a red flag.

          Drunk as I was on Hijoputa (son of the beach) brand honey brand, I went into the water, when suddenly, the waves caught me and dragged me towards the center of the sea, without being able to reach the sand of the beach due to the tiredness and exhaustion of my limbs that did everything possible to save me.

          For me this was a lucid event, because I saw myself compromised with Death, since I knew that physically I would die if nobody came to rescue me, swallowing all the water of the sea with all its filth.

          With almost no detectable heartbeat, and no breathing due to the water and algae that swallowed me, I traveled through a tunnel, observing a bright light, meeting a mythical being: Genghis Khan, who told me: -I’m meeting the neighbors; accompanied by Musk and Trump, who talked about the Big Con (big scam), and Frankenstein and Dracula, all of them united by mutual gravitational attraction, who were happy to see me alive, and talked about the NDE (Near Death Experience), listening to Genghis who told us:

-We live here now. Here and there, we live in a constant struggle between the Economic Damage Threshold (EDT), referring to the population density in which the costs of incurring in a genocide equals the benefits of not controlling the sale of weapons; and the Threshold of Action (TOA), referring to the population density in which a control action must be carried out, even by killing, to prevent the EDT from being reached.

          I got away from these four firecrackers, addressing Genghis, the fertile man, who fathered more than a thousand children with his main wife, with minor wives and concubines that he incorporated into his flock thanks to his conquests, father of humanity, the “star cluster”, who had a goshawk peeking out of his fly, the most alert among the dead.

          In the most plausible and arrogant way he grabbed me by the balls in the style that Musk and Trump do with women, forcing me to compose, in the shortest time possible, a poem, which I wrote with seaweed ink and a seagull feather on the back of a Nice of the north  (Thunnus alalunga),  but not before he told me:

-In the afterlife, the souls of mortals float in the infinite void like wandering stars; the ones that illuminate the most are those of psychopaths and serial killers, occupying the best places in stellar space. Those of other mortals are the turds that float in swamps, ponds, rivers or seas, and cling to water like ticks.

          I was dumbfounded. And, when I tried to break the hawk’s neck, he ordered me:

-Come on! Write the poem.

          I answered him, making a mistake in my words, because instead of saying: “Yes, my star cluster,” I said: “Yes, my star joke,” without him getting very angry because I was about to drown completely.

           This was the poem I composed for him:

GENGHIS KHAN RESURRECTED

Genghis Khan, remembered Mongol

“Mongolo”moron,  psychopath par excellence

Great Khan, great dog of Yinchuan

From the Republic of China

Admired serial killer leader

From Eastern Europe

To the Pacific Ocean

And from Siberia to Mesopotamia

India and Indochina

He has been incarnated in some humans:

The favorites, the chosen ones

Since the times of the Printing Press

As we see it

In the History of the times

In our emperors, kings, tsars

Dictators, presidents and heads of state

Whose label is mass extermination

And famine

As announced to us, in his day

A dwarf King Kong

Who died for our sins

On his deathbed.

Already as a child, Chinguis Jaan

That was the name of the guy Genghis Khan

When he was going up some stairs

He got dizzy and fell to the ground

And his group of friends told him:

-Chinguis, don’t be so mean

Be very brave

You were born to rape and kill at random.

He believed it wholeheartedly

Growing up among murders:

That of his brother and his best friend

Rapes of women

Whom he raped three times a week

Cutting off their clitorises with his sword

Making necklaces for himself

And for his warriors who killed the most.

He liked, well, what he loved the most

Was cutting off heads and watching them roll

Screaming these: -Bastard, murderer

You do nothing but nonsense.

His hatred of the Moors was infinite

As is shown today in the nations

Who elect at the polls, or outside of them

Serial killers to govern them

Before, for the desire to steal their jewels

And, today, to steal their oil.

He built pyramids

With corpses and mortal remains

As are seen today made

On the ruins of Palestine

Lebanon, Syria, Ukraine and other nations.

They say that, one day

He went inside his tent.

He peeked through a crack

Seeing one of his warriors coming

Who was approaching him

Fucking his most youthful mare in the ass.

-What did this great murderous Khan do?

He cut off the head of his youthful mare

Putting his brand new sword

In the backside of the warrior

His brand new sword, on the fly.

A fact that was praised by their conquered peoples

As today they praise the actions

Of these exalted serial killers

With rap music

Sound of chainsaws or sirens

For refugees and other uprooted people

Who hide underground.

-Daniel de Culla

Marry You?!

You are
Unlacing my heart’s matrix
You are
Brittle lacunae in my bones
You are
Baffled buffoon in my box
You are
My balatron from Barnum and Bailey
Sputtering Inflected infected lexemes and locutions
Morphological languid linguistics
Brought down to ex haus tion…
Having ab  sconded from your flagRant lips
All flags are waVinG wAr nings in wailing w inds
Like a mal adJusted jester you jUst sit there
Barely jEsting
Like a Therapist on Theraflu
So what am I to do?

Trounced goaded by your giant girth

Inside I am screaming!

Like a trapped Slattern to a pillory

Sh irking fictitious flames stolen from Zeus!
You are an onus to my sanity

And an anchor to my vanity
So the answer is NO!
I don’t want to marry you!
You are a bawdy brawny bozo!
As we say in French:
“Un grivois sans voix…”

Yet still you are MY burly brethren boor…

Giving fit formidable dry thumps… ˈyəummy-
Come here…you BIG dumb c*m dump!

On dine ensemble ce soir, chéri?

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, the University of  Wyoming, Askews and Holts Library Services in the United Kingdom, The Harvard Book Store, The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, Amazon and elsewhere. He has been published in prestigious publications such as Muddy River Poetry Review, 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.

I miss you dad

The pain of longing hurts me every time,

I miss you, dad.

Even if you leave without coming back,

This piece of land is burning like sand.

The dagger of longing pierces the heart.

This torment torments me,

Spring has come, spreading its flowers,

I will open my mouth and tell you,

Death gives everyone one day,

My grandfather passed away

Bright faces look at the sun,

Now my grandfather is close to ALLAH.

Dad, you used to dream,

Your daughter like me always understands,

You used to wipe my tears

You were always an encouragement.

Go against the commandment of ALLAH

I always see you in my dreams

You are always a slave who wrote poetry

Doomsday friends,

Dad, I miss you so much.

A hundred years pass, but I remember you

I cry remembering happy moments

Why don’t you come back to me now?

daddy i miss you so much

I miss my father and write poems

Let the river laugh at my poems, my autumn age

May you rest in heaven, my God

Dad, I miss you so much

Kodirova Barchinoy Shavkatovna was born on September 15, 2008. She is a 9th grade student of the 15th general secondary school in the city of Karshi Kashkadarya region and is 16 years old.

The wind 

A cold wind started,

The riot is in full swing.

You can see reflection 

In the wave of lake water.

Branches of trees,

It was covered in dust.

A fly in a birdʼs nest 

It cannot fly.

Traits are in the wind,

They flew without stopping.

Didnʼt remain in own place,

They moved to another place.

From a bunch of trees 

The faces of the flowers were 

flushed.

Due to the anger of wind 

The ground become blue.

From the bite of the wind 

There was a lot of damage.

Since then it has been windy 

Pushed aside 

Niginabonu Amirova 

Bekobod MFY of the  Torakorkan district  of the Namangan region settled down in the district’s southern bottom share. In Bekobod village elderly narrate the tale of how, while the khanate of Akhsikent’s noblemen were coming back, tired of faraway battles, they rested under one mulberry in now  “Qoʻrgʻon” street.

They were fond of the astonishing climate and decided to stay. Now I live in this place. And the Khanate’s noblemen were born with modern conveniences. And they built a fortress in their space. This space could be equipped with modern conveniences, so they also brought in others. In consequence, they organized a city block. This place bore the name of “BEKOBOD.”

My village’s tribal elders say that earlier somebody  didn’t live here, and somebody didn’t do agriculture. Our village’s mentioned above share the given name “Polvon mahalla” to no purpose. In Aksident, working at nobleman position Rajab Alibek has come to migration . He has come to the end, built a fortress with his friends . The fortress has two doors, the quality of one door replaced the fortress’s hillock, and again the quality of one another door replaced the fortress’s down.

Bekobod village’s weather is clean , the village’s weather is pure water , and Bekobod’s people are sincere , good-natured . In our village there is an “Abdulwahab Qori jame ” mosque . Our village is developing day by day . Again New mosque started being built. Including, planned seamstress undertaking for 500 appropriate workers and there is an existent “Abdugʻaffor ota ” memorial souvenir . This person is our village’s pride. Again Number for 9 kindergarten taken liver itself 250 rather small and petite. And 600 students are studying. School Number for 55 is active.
History be not future.

Komila Makhmudjonova was born on August 24, 2007, in the Torakorkan district of the Namangan region. Currently, she is a student of a specialized boarding school Number 4. She is one of the most active students at the school.

Uzbekistan is a place rich in historical monuments!

There is probably no person who has not heard about Uzbekistan. Or a lot of foreigners rushing to see its historical places and ancient buildings after hearing about it. The number of tourists coming to Uzbekistan every year is more. This, in turn, means that Uzbekistan’s place in the world is rich in historical places. I would like to give some information about the Shaikhontohur Ensemble, one of which is located in Tashkent!

The territory of the Shaikhontohur ensemble is located between Abdulla Qadiri and Alisher Navoi streets. The ensemble consists of three mausoleums: the mausoleum of Sheikh Khavandi Tohur, the mausoleum of Kaldirgochbi and the mausoleum of Yunus Khan.

Shaikhontohur was born in the end of the 13th century in the mountain village of Boghustan (where the Charvok reservoir is now located) in a family of owners. His father Sheikh Umar was a descendant of Umar the Second Caliph. The people believed that Sheikh Omar could create miracles and control natural phenomena. It is said that this great blessing was passed on to his son. Young Shaikhontohur studied Sufi teachings. According to the biographers, the Tashkent Sufi was particularly impressed by one fact: “High spiritual qualities and knowledge in the sciences are in direct proportion to the patience and indifference of a wise person compared to the rudeness of the ignorant.”

Sheikh lived and preached in Tashkent and died between 1355 and 1360. According to legends, the mausoleum over his grave was built on the initiative of Amir Temur. It is a low-rise two-room structure topped by two domes of different heights.

The building got its current appearance as a result of numerous restoration works and reconstructions at the beginning of the 19th century. Inside it, there are three dahms under the big dome and two dahms under the small dome. Out of 48 cypress trees (planted by Alexander the Great) – Alexander’s one remains in the mausoleum. This petrified coniferous tree is located inside the mausoleum, directly next to the majestic tomb of the Sheikh.

Needless to say, many people from Tashkent, Ubaidulla Khoja Ahror (1404-1490) and Yunushoja, who was the independent governor of Tashkent in the middle of the 18th century, belong to the generation of Shaikhontohurs.

Next to the mausoleum of Sheikhontohur, another mausoleum remains to this day. This is the grave of Kaldirgoyabi. This 15th-century architectural monument is distinguished from other structures in the complex by its pyramid-shaped dome and reminds of the tombs of the Kazakh steppes. indeed, under the domes of this mausoleum, the body of the famous statesman Tolabi (Kazakh) was buried. Together with the Tolabi Tashkentians, they succeeded in expelling the militant Kalmyk invader from the lands of Central Asia. The executive power appointed the independent governor of the Tashkent state, the mayor of Sheykhontohur, Yunuskhoja, as his representative in Tashkent.

Another great monument in the complex dating back to the 15th century is the mausoleum of Babur’s grandfather, Yunus Khan. This building has been restored many times. This house has a unique type, it is T-shaped and has a high arch along the top of the facade.

There are many historical places like this in Uzbekistan. It is our responsibility to visit them, adopt them and pass them on to future generations!

Tuliyeva Sarvinoz
The owner of the state award named after Zulfia
Uzbekistan

OUR GREAT WEALTH

      We often write that the great wealth and priceless property of the nation is the language. 

Each of us is responsible for preserving it.   There is no right to destroy our mother tongue, to make it as dry as possible with words coming from different languages.  Abdulla Qadiri, the great Uzbek, reprimanded us: “The Uzbek language is not poor, but those who call the Uzbek language poor are poor.”  They should not blame their ignorance on the Uzbek language.

      Did Abdulla Qadiri really write novels without using Russian words?  Is there a place in El’s heart?

       The famous people of that time expressed their opinions with two-line verses.  They were not at all ashamed of saying, “You have done me a favor, my lady.”

      Hazrat Alisher Navoi, our grandfather, clearly explained the definition of our Turkish language.

      I am a Turkish narration, 

     I made this fashion story.

      Whose fame spread to the world

      Enjoy even knowing Turkish.

      Hazrat Navoi said that the fame of the Turkish language fills the world, this language will spread to the world.  They also said that the world will benefit from this language.

      A person who doesn’t know the lines of our great poet Abdulla Oripov, “The day you die, I’ll definitely die!”

      The words of Halima Khudoyberdiyeva, the most charming poetess of our time, are unforgettable lines.

     My pierced tongue

     My cut tongue.

     A huge cloud fell,

     A broken tongue.

     Like a bird’s feather 

     Forget about it, my dear. 

     On the floor of books

     My colorful straw,

     You smell like almonds 

     My child is neither Russian nor Uzbek, 

     There is a sign of Arosat.

     Five hundred years ago

     I understand the letter, so

      What I said today

      My child sometimes does not understand.

      We have become a nation that forgets flowers.

      We have become a forgetful nation.

      A mass shooting occurred.

      We have become a people who forget the language…

     El’s male poet Muhammad Yusuf also considered himself guilty and a sinner in front of the Uzbek language due to the deterioration of the language:

     Although I did not like those who attacked me,

      I wrote a poem, but I didn’t do anything else.

      I did not speak in my own language,

      When I remember it, my heart hurts. 

      My mother tongue, forgive me, my mother tongue…

      One day every year on October 21, we think about the language, the Uzbek language.

      “Forgive me, mother tongue”

      “As inheritors of the priceless wealth passed down from our ancestors to our generations, we need to preserve our mother tongue, enrich it, and constantly work on increasing its prestige.” 

       Islam Karimov, First President of the Republic of Uzbekistan.

      Darlings!  What kind of children are we if we don’t appreciate our mother tongue?  Come, my sisters, brothers, young and old, let’s come together and appreciate our mother tongue in time.

            ĎÌĹBÁŔÌÑOŽÁM

       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”.