Feudal downpipes

The gargoyles squabble with both

the birds & the bards, neither of 

whom want some primitive form

of artificial intelligence to join them

in a singalong on the castle roof. It’s

only when the rains come, & both

bards & birds retreat to some drier 

setting, that the gargoyles can de-

monstrate their exemplary pur-

pose. Unfortunately for them, no

one is left on the roof to observe it.

The castle grounds are also empty.

Not quite over the moon

My rotisserie oven takes me

to the moon & back, & will

provide meals on the way.

Unfortunately, it can’t be

classified as self-contained

because it doesn’t stream

 HBO Max or do iced water.

32 ft/s²

Today the post-

woman brought

me the Arthur

Murray step-by-

step schematic of

the Beer Barrel

Polka. Except

there were no

steps shown, just

a dynamic topo-

graphical map 

of a hill with 

a figure rolling 

down it at an ever-

increasing speed,

something akin 

to 32 feet per sec-

ond per second. 

A line from Johann Sebastian Bach (2)

I drive north. Small towns a-

bound. Nostalgia overtakes

me, but is tempered with

anticipation of what might 

lie ahead. What I am hoping

to find is some place that might 

be the special province of music.

Not as a congregation of strings

& woodwinds, or of majestic ped-

al organs — rather a site where

the sight of the landscape makes

you want to sing along with it.

Day mock crazy

Many statesmen in 
Washington are
strenuously pushing 
for a bigger role for
social bookmarking 
in Iran, hoping to turn 
it into a highly profitable 
dating community web-
site. A brigade of China’s 
armed police flew there
today to become a part 
of the winning team.

Digitalization of Accounting and Tax Systems in Uzbekistan: Integrating AI into Modern Finance

In the modern global economy, financial management and tax administration are undergoing a profound digital transformation. In Uzbekistan, recent economic reforms have significantly accelerated the adoption of electronic document systems, automated tax reporting, and online transaction tracking. Today, traditional accounting methods are rapidly being replaced by digital solutions that ensure accuracy, speed, and transparency.

The Intersection of Accounting and Artificial Intelligence
As a student of Artificial Intelligence at Tashkent State University of Economics, I view modern accounting not merely as record-keeping, but as a data-driven field prime for automation. The integration of AI algorithms into traditional financial software—such as 1C: Accounting, Excel databases, and tax reporting platforms—offers unprecedented capabilities:

1. Automated Tax Compliance: Machine learning algorithms can automatically cross-check invoice data against tax regulations, reducing human error and ensuring timely filing.
2. Fraud Detection and Financial Auditing: AI models analyze transaction patterns in real time, detecting anomalies and potential discrepancies far faster than traditional manual audits.
3. Intelligent Financial Advisory: Natural Language Processing (NLP) agents can assist accountants by retrieving tax codes, calculating rates, and providing instant guidance on changing financial legislation.

Practical Experience and Vision for the Future
Holding professional certifications in 1C: Accounting 8.3, Tax Analytics, and Data Analysis, my aim is to bridge the gap between financial theory and practical AI execution. Combining solid accounting standards with machine learning and Python programming allows for the creation of smart tools that optimize business workflows and minimize financial risks.

As Uzbekistan continues to strengthen its digital economy, the fusion of artificial intelligence and accounting expertise will play a crucial role in building an efficient, transparent, and modern financial ecosystem.

Sherzod Suvonov (Suvonov Sherzod Alijonovich) is a 2nd-year student at Tashkent State University of Economics (TSUE) in Uzbekistan, specializing in Artificial Intelligence. He holds professional certifications in “1C: Accounting 8.3”, Tax Expertise, Microsoft Excel Data Analysis, and Web Technologies. His focus lies in integrating artificial intelligence into financial accounting and automated taxation systems.

IN A CHURCH IN MADRID 

Sadness 

Will you go and listen 

To the cobblestones

To her voice

In the sandalwood

Drifting freely

Seasons moving 

In the sawdust floors

That remind me of you

And love, will you go and find her face

A room with a view

The elated silence 

Of a childhood

That holds you

Where I blamed God for

Daylight

As I stood there

And felt the blood of the holy water 

And the air

Of a spectacular minuet

In a church in Madrid 

The linen screaming in its silence 

A rose so sweetly

Kissing marble floors

Colliding in a secret fire that hides in candles

She washes love

In a lonely water 

In the passion of the streets

Her painted hands

I remember you

As you lay in the pink swaying winds

Of Saint-Martin-d’Ablois

Flesh to flesh 

Sonnet to sonnet

A human sea

A human sea

.

When Men Cry 

Men do cry…

And when they do, the sky seems to fall,

as though it fears the wind

might bruise the silence.

Their tears—weightier than wounds

that bleed beneath the skin

cleanse the stains of time

and pour like a cascade

of noble pain.

They cry when memory raises before them

the face of a slain man

who never found a shroud,

or the lament of a mother

whose voice dissolved

behind the bars of forgetting.

They cry when the scent

of a long-gone beloved rises again,

and the braids of sorrow

sweep across the shoulders of the horizon.

It is a weeping

that inscribes upon the page of night

the testament of the pure:

that justice has yet to be born,

and that sorrow, for men,

is a homeland

none can rival them in.

Now… It Happens Here

These mornings arrive incomplete,

burdened with lack,

with misplaced faces,

disasters passing like fractured light.

In my palm

a talisman lost

in the wind of hope.

If only grief were a trembling spark

that fades

before it burns whole.

One of them spoke

from the thirst of a poem,

scattering her promises,

casting a body

whose fire still resists

the aging of time.

May I flash,

a brief lightning

in the shadows of astonishment?

Another trial comes

with a dawn

that laughs too loudly,

as one who hides his tears

between the ribs.

Can laughter deceive us long?

I gather crumbs of light

from the memory of the window,

stitching the rents of the soul,

pretending to the clouds

that rain is near.

But the wind betrays the shade,

strips the fragile secrets bare,

and leaves me only

a belated gleam:

that incomplete mornings

are never repaired.

Houses of the Straw of Memory

The spider’s house

emptiness trembling

when loneliness touches it.

Reema Hamza

Syria

Improvisations on a Nearing Dawn

Text by :Reema Hamza

—The Vision—

I saw not eleven stars—

but a tablet, played by echo,

there—where dawn bends gently:

girls and fields

shaking hands with God

in a hymn.

—————– 

Interpretation

1• Where Dawn Sings:

There, where the morning begins to breathe,

the girls planted their braids into the earth—

and the stalks rose,

bearing the sun’s very first smile.

2• To Touch the Infinite:

When the song rose high,

fields, girls, and sky folded

into a single hand—

and greeted eternity.

3• Fields of Innocence:

In the face of dawn,

the fields murmur the tale of the girls,

each blossom signed

with the ink of a song.

4• The Sacred Vow:

A girl beneath the hush of morning

chants God’s names in verse—

and the rain,

obedient, begins to fall.

Reema Salman Hamza of Syria

Graduate of the Higher Institute of Music, specialization (Violin). Editor-in-chief of the newspaper “World of Culture.” Editor at Daily Global Nation, English. Member of the International Advisory Board at Farsala Academy, Greece, Athens. I write in various literary genres including classical poetry, metric poetry, prose poems, articles, and short story art. I have practiced literary work as an administrator and editor in many prestigious platforms and newspapers. My texts have been translated into several languages including English, Italian, Albanian, Spanish, French, English, and Chinese. I participated in a literary encyclopedia titled “Oasis of Creativity,” a book that includes Arab creators, published by the General Organization for the Nile and Euphrates in its first and second parts.

I participated in the book “The First Drop of Rain” by Dr. researcher Amani Ibrahim. The book “Dialectical Cultural Digging Methodology” includes critical studies on my texts. I participated in the great international anthology of poets of love and peace, organized by the Moroccan Creators Association. I participated in the fourth volume of the international book “Mandib” under the patronage of the Mandib International Foundation, India. 

I participated with female creatives from the Arab world in the book (Arab Women’s Letters) published by Dar Al-Sanabel, Palestine. I have poetry collections including “The Thread That Became a String,” “Poems That Chase Me,” and a book of critical studies on my poetic experience. I participated in a literary encyclopedia translated into English and Russian, including creatives from around the world, titled “Breath Of The World,” supervised by the writer Raisa Melenkova. I participated in the third part of the global dialogue series “The Unwritten Chapter” about literary Barcelona, which includes dialogues with a selected group of creatives from around the world.

clearing paths

through the undergrowth

trampling hippos

respecting their space 

we remain cool

Paul Callus (Malta) / Christina Chin (Malaysia) 

abandoned abattoir 

sends chills through the spine

ghostly whispers … 

lightning suddenly reveals

gruesome blood-spattered walls

Christina Chin (Malaysia) / Paul Callus (Malta)

Fly Above

It was a quiet, endless night,
Darker than I’d ever known.
My mother stood beside me,
Silent… staring into the unknown.
I tried so hard to hold it in,
But I cried just like a child.
That moment broke the heart in me,
Left my soul so weak and wild.
We were standing on the edge,
Like a cliff beneath our feet.
No one saw the pain we carried,
We never wished for them to see.
But look at me…
Keep your eyes on me…
My heart is bruised, but hope remains,
A quiet fire through the rain.
My father taught these wings to rise,
So I still reach beyond the skies.
You can try to hold me down,
But I won’t let my spirit drown.
Tomorrow’s waiting just for me…
And I’ll become who I’m meant to be.
You turned away when we were falling,
Laughed while our world came crashing down.
You never thought these broken pieces
Could wear a brighter crown.
Now the lights know every heartbeat,
My name echoes through the crowd.
The dreams you called impossible
Are singing back so loud.
You watched my father fight alone,
But never reached to lend a hand.
Now I stand where hope has led me,
Higher than you ever planned.
My heart is bruised, but hope remains,
A quiet fire through the rain.
My father taught these wings to rise,
So I still reach beyond the skies.
You can try to hold me down,
But I won’t let my spirit drown.
Tomorrow’s waiting just for me…
And I’ll become who I’m meant to be.
Dad… can you see me now?
I’m flying high above them all.
You were the one who gave me wings,
My hero through every fall.
Now it’s your turn to breathe again,
Leave their voices far behind.
You gave me strength to chase the sky,
Now let your heart be free to shine.
This victory is ours…
You were never alone.
My heart is bruised, but hope remains,
The darkest nights can’t steal my flame.
My father taught these wings to rise,
Now I’m reaching through the skies.
No one can ever bring me down,
I’ve found my voice, I’ve found my sound.
Tomorrow’s finally calling me…
And now the whole world will see