
Poetry from J.J. Campbell

——————————————————————————
up from the floor
i wanna leave
most of my
memories
in the ocean,
somewhere away
from the plastic
in tedious moments,
i bite my nails and
wonder why i didn’t
die when i was young
this woman swears
she loves me
won’t give me her
address or any hope
that this is something
more than real
we’ll probably be
married in a year
why does all the
crazy shit with death
happen in minnesota
you try helping your
disabled mother up
from the floor with
a bad back
these are the nights
drugs were invented
for
piss stained pants
in the wash
a night nurse telling
war stories in the
living room
scribbling madness
on paper is child’s
play
—————————————————-
the latest year of death
a few snowflakes
in the cold sunshine
the last few days of
the latest year of death
can masturbation cause
carpal tunnel
four out of five dentists
agree
of course, some beautiful
woman wants to save you
as long as you are willing
to become the man she
changes you into
why resist, where has this
perfect creature got you
still think toiling away
in obscurity is noble,
makes you cool or
something even better
not often someone brags
about being a better piece
of shit
sure, there may be gold
in that turd but no one
ever wants to give it
a taste
rejoice, the end is near
a new beginning if you
truly want it to be
but that is just some
mumbo jumbo out of
some self help book
written long before you
were a stain in the sheets
———————————————-
die alone
pretend we are
the only souls
left
your soft skin
resting on what
is left of me
seventeen years
is one hell of
a gap
but you brighten
this darkness
let me know
that the light
isn’t always
a train
one day it will
be your chance
to prove to the
world you were
always what i
was missing
it’s not a test
but a plea for
help
not that i’m
afraid to die
alone
just don’t
want to
that subtle difference
doesn’t mean shit to
many, but hopefully
just enough to whom
it is meant for
——————————————————–
i mumbled something
a strapless neon dress
and all the reasons i
never liked going to
strip clubs
sitting at the bar,
just drinking
the bartender asked
what i was looking
for tonight
i mumbled something
i’ll never find here
she realized it was
a lost cause
never got a lap dance
though i did buy my
buddy one
he liked this smoking
hot black chick and i
never minded someone
else having a good time
looking back on it
i still can’t figure out
how these twenty plus
years have flown by
so damn fast
the tornado hit that
strip club years ago
i suppose they had
different dancers
by then
——————————————————
nothing but sunday drivers
an uncomfortable
silence in the rain
a two lane road
in the sticks
of course, nothing
but sunday drivers
on a thursday
afternoon
it’s a lonely glass
of scotch and the
memory of an old
lover that died
years ago
your life has become
the lyrics of the songs
you grew up on
too bad the songs
about death are the
only ones you can
remember all the
lyrics to
the subtle embrace
of your last hope
she has no clue to
the misery she has
stepped into
and while that baggage
will never be hers to
deal with
she will gladly accept
the challenge
accept what little
faith is still left
J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is trapped in suburbia, sadly accepting his fate. He’s been widely published over the last 30 years, most recently at Night Owl Narrative, Disturb the Universe Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, Crossroads Magazine and The Rye Whiskey Review. His latest book, to live your dreams, has been published by Whiskey City Press and is available on Amazon.com (please buy a copy or two). He still has his blog, although taking care of his disabled mother takes up the majority of his time. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)
Poetry from Mark Young
x3
Nostalgia sets in, & I lose my
teeth. More benefit than hind-
erance — stops me chewing
over un temps perdu that has
little to make it worth revisiting.
Nostalgia sets in, & I lose my
internet connection. Maybe I
shouldn’t be piggybacking into
the ether on my neighbor’s wifi.
Nostalgia sets in, & I lose my
canteloupes. Not immediately;
but before the melon harvest
can get underway, gargoyles
that have torn themselves away
from cathedral roofs flock down
to feast, leave nothing behind.
Random / noises from / the vowel house
According to onlookers, I’d
dodged a bullet. But I’ve been
deep into word puzzles of
late, & couldn’t let that pass
by without questioning how it
parsed. “Do you mean I may
have dodged a ballet since I
didn’t go into the city with my
partner last night? Or maybe
didn’t spend that same time
watching a belly dancer or that
comedian who provokes belly
laughs in his audience? Or,
more precisely, perhaps no
one offered me a glass of Bellet
wine or took me for a drive in
their old Isuzu Bellet? Then
again, nobody offered me an
overnight billet, or gazed at me
& sent me billets-doux, or in-
vited me to go & see that
French pop group that’s app-
arently quite popular these
days. Have I left anything
out?” I get blank looks, so re-
mind them that bollets are
another word for a type of
mushroom, & that it’s now
dinner time, & I’ve prattled on
for so long they’re probably
wishing that the projectile had
hit the mark & stopped me
carrying on like a bull at a gate.
XXL Largo
(A Tom Beckett Title)
Now that the wet season
has arrived, I go surfing
before I go surfing, hoping
to find some johnnie O
swim shorts in an extra
extra large size which also
have some length to them.
eBay offers me a pair for $89,
described as having a Conch
Floral design, lined, & with
a drawstring. The Adidas
equivalent at Amazon also
has a drawstring, is in a Rip-
stop 100% recycled polyester
but is currently out of stock.
In the same breath — or at
least on the same page — Ali-
baba.com, under the sub-cat-
gories of Sex Toys / Dildos,
has a Ready to Ship Big XXL
Largo Penis Enlargement
Cream with a 2-year shelf
life. Sterilization, cleaning, &
a free sample are included. They
say they support private labels
& can manufacture to a custom-
er’s own design (OEM) or relabel
Alibaba products (ODM). It
also is currently unavailable.
Still surfing, I find I can buy a
Ralph Lauren Polo sweater —
Talle XXL, Largo 80cm, Ancho
70cm — for a mere $33,000; or,
at the other end of the scale, an
XXL long custom “stromboli”
mousepad with a list price of
€44.00. If that was what the
sweater cost I might be inter-
ested; but most everything I’ve
seen so far seems to have little
to do with surfing, or is out of
stock, or is way too expensive.
Time to stop; so a last entering
of the search term. I goof, leave
off the size’s L, so, when I enter,
Chopin & YouTube are every-
where. 24 Preludes, Op. 28: XX.
No. 20 in C Minor (Largo). It’s a
nice piece, so I sit back & enjoy.
escalator elephants
Australia Post has issued an urgent warning to residents to remain on high alert as the risk of “porch pirates” starts to rise.
Scientists have found a fix for the increasing amount of space junk.
Archaeologists discover the world’s oldest paintings, made long before human existence — & strikingly advanced.
Trump hires a new architect for his $300M White House ballroom, pushing the price up another $100M.
Joe Rogan recently told the American Alchemy podcast that AI-powered machines could one day have a ‘virgin birth,’ creating advanced robots, or ‘offspring,’ capable of performing real-world miracles using technology.
Australian Labor Government’s new AI plan puts faith in self-regulation.
‘Good decision.’ Trump hails controversial health plan as an advisory panel appointed by Trump’s vaccine-skeptic health secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. voted to end a decades-old health recommendation affecting newborns.
“Vanity Fair” and Olivia Nuzzi announced Friday that they have agreed to go their separate ways following a flood of new revelations about her romantic relationship with Robert F. Kennedy Jr., including allegations of journalistic ethics breaches.
Trump family is inflicting a new kind of Saudi-style ‘royalism’ on the US.
Arrests as apple crumble, custard thrown at UK crown jewels.
Anger as National Parks grant free access on Trump’s birthday — & end it for MLK day.
NATO state to declare state of emergency next week, Lithuanian PM says.
Poetry from Shawn Schooley
Late to the Second Coming
Irreverential, blasphemous
silence;
profane void,
absence of Presence.
Shallow, knee-shaped
dimples, slowly
disappearing from the
hassock before coagulating wine.
Sanctuary air,
not stale;
trace symphony of
pheromonic Bachian notes.
Wafer white
quartered-halves;
bread of life crumbs
trailing the Way?
Multi-hued tendrils
caressing the
onion-thin parchment;
celestially highlighting
1 Thessalonians 4:17.
Stole-draped,
cross-adorned
pulpit.
“Eli, Eli
lama sabachthani.”
The nighttime thief
has come;
revelation dawns…
A fool in want of oil.
Poetry from Kristy Ann Raines

In Your Eyes
Different colors of red I paint on your lips with mine
and one soul has always been shared between us
You have walked every step with me in this life
And we will continue together through eternity
No other hand will ever touch my skin
And no other heart will ever beat with mine
In your eyes I’ve seen the glow of the moon at night
and the beauty of the golden sun at dawn
There has never been anyone who can compare
to the heart which holds all the love within me.
Look upon me as you always have…
Like a thief waiting to steal a precious treasure from within me.
Long Ago I Wrote a Love Poem
Long Ago, I wrote a love poem
that filled the pages of my heart
I never said who I was writing it for
I don’t think I even knew at first
Then I found that something was missing
with each love poem I tried to write
Every poem I had written with you came easily
but without your lines, they felt incomplete
I watched others try to finish your poems
I never spoke a word of discouragement
But in my heart I knew the reason
and now, I think you do too
No one can finish your poem but me
because we write as one person together
And the same goes for my poems without you.
A bond that has always baffled us both
now makes perfect sense…
Our Colorful Dream
I have had more intimate conversations with you
looking into your eyes in silence than speaking.
Life was so empty until you appeared one day
as a result of a prayer I prayed in sadness.
You now bring the sun into my once dark life
and have transformed my hues from black to gold.
You became the knight in my once woeful tale
and I long to stay the beautiful dream in your realm.
I have watched our love grow so strong over time
that no evil could ever penetrate our colorful dream.
You are the love story who became my reality.
Kristy Ann Raines is an American poet and author born in Oakland California, in the United States of America. She is an accomplished Global Poet and Writer who has written and published three books.
* “The Passion Within”, by Kristy Raines
* “I Cross my Heart from East to West”, by Kristy Raines and Dr. Prasana Kumar Dalai
* “Echoes Across the Oceans”, by Kristy Raines and Nasser Alshaikhahmed
Kristy is right now writing a few children’s books, which will be released sometime this year.
Poetry from Khadija Ismail
Mother earth The earth whispers to the universe ''don't hurt me ''. With trees, barks, waves and sunshine bearing witness. It pleaded in soothing, calm voice. Yet the universe take charge, it was offended by the comment. It says '' I'm not hurting you I'm saving you''. Oh that's an irony! How could you be claiming to save her when you are busy taking what she loves an cherishes the most. When her first child the soil loses purpose by you burning it, ' we are looking for treasure' a biased point you always try to make. When the rock is suffering from your excavations, yes there's a fortune there. When bloods shatters and run down the water banks, and your waste moves faster than the waves. When you were busy cutting trees, it tears thicker than the gums you use to hold things together. When it confident was hitted in the ass It courage is melting like a magma It looses it comfort at your mercy—holding your feets begging for survival Her pride was like that of a dust Your ego was boosted what a macho man you are. You didn't just hurt her, you destroy her. Just like a horny dog wanting to have a taste of the honeypot ey She cried she pleaded till the tears dried like an abandoned pond. Like that lake that now resembles valley, like a godforsaken shrine And now when she takes charge, punishing you for your crime. You started playing victim's card—what a manipulator you are. You worried when rain doesn't drop, blaming it on her When it was your flames and fire that stopped it. You cry when the temperature rises to 44 with no trees to seek refuge to. We chant an anthem of climate action every day but we ignored it We raise actions on plant trees while the ones in our neighborhood are dying When our land have become barren and no drop-not a single drop of water can make it alive nor fertile. Then we are busy playing hunger games, with zero point or a merit to win. When you start running after her family asking for forgiveness, they said '' No there's a fortune there, go eat it'' Then now you remember that '' you can't eat your cake and have it''. Crying won't solve any problems you have, you created it so you have to pay for it. It's high time we start been intentional with what we do and say. We can't be hiding behind the screen saying we'd change the world when we can't change ourselves and the way we think. We can't be climate change activist when waste flooded our homes. Our rooms smells like garbage Our drainage have to turned to refuse Change starts from me, so let it rises from here Let's stand up and take action in our hands, Let's start building a greener environment Let's dispose our waste properly then may be may be the earth will heed to our calls And the climate will be friendly to us all
Khadija Ismail is a student of Medical lab science, a Hausa novelist, writer, poet, essayist and content writer. Her works centres on society and romance, she uses words to address issues like GBV, Mental and public health. She is the writer of Nisfu Deeniy and Wani rabo. Her work will be published in Yanar gizo anthology.
You can connect with her on Facebook as Khadija Bint Ismail and Deejasmah Writer on Instagram and Tiktok.
Essay from Taro Hokkyo

THE COURAGE TO LOVE
Eva suffered many misfortunes in her childhood. She endured even more discrimination and humiliation. She channeled that hatred into fuel, throwing herself into her studies.
Eva consistently ranked first in her class, earned scholarships through graduate school, and landed a job at a top-tier company. But that’s where she stumbled. She couldn’t keep up with the workplace relationships. After much turmoil, she quit the company.
Eva had become distrustful of people. She enrolled in nursing school and became a nurse. She ended up working on a cancer ward.
But physical labor didn’t suit Eva, and she couldn’t bear the bullying from her colleagues at work. She fought desperately against the urge to cling to someone. She was also exhausted by the constant stream of patients being wheeled in, only to die.
One day, Eva heard the words of a dying patient. Before passing, they invariably confessed their sins and expressed gratitude to many people. There were no exceptions. Knowing this, she found the courage to love.
Eva learned the strength of the power to love and the weakness of the power to hate. Eva realized that most people in the world did not know this. She came to know that humans are born only to die. Eva succeeded in living, loving others without hating them. And Eva is everywhere, living with a smile on her face at all times.
1998 Rekitei Shinei Award winner in Japan. 2021 Arab Golden Planet Award winner in 2022, Awarded the title of Doctor of Letters from the Arabic-speaking world in 2023 My poems are published in Orfew.al magazine in Albania. Also translated into Italian in 2024 My poem is published in the Daily Global Nation in Bangladesh. My poems published in Samantaral Bhabna, India. Interview with an Algerian newspaper is published. My poem is published in Greek Police Magazine. Received a certificate of honor from English poets. Published in a Korean magazine. Published in Koltaka jishu International Poetry Magazine, India. My poem is published in a Greek e-magazine. My poem is published in the Barcelona Literary Magazine. My poem is published in Poetry Planetariat, a Nepalese poetry magazine. My poetry collection is published in Bengali-speaking countries. Three of my poems were published in India’s Half-yearly magazine. Three of my poems were published in the Raft of Dreams Literary Magazine. My poem is published in Hyperpoem Anthology, founded by Alexander Kabishev from Russia.