poem #3

I wrote this poem a year ago, inspired by a drawing of an old lady a friend made previously that day. It's called Mrs. Delta because I had just seen Kubrick's "A Clockwork Orange", and I particularly liked the character of Mr. Deltoid.

Mrs. Delta

As marry as the grass was green,
Mrs. Delta was one nobody had seen-

25 years she'd wait for a train,
beyond the fields where children once played,
and she would never look,
just stand there and wait.

Her aching mind would,
from time to time, bleed,
but that was the type of knowledge
she didn't need,
just standing on the station, there,
for the trains to see...

by: Evelyn Glyn

poem #2

A Silence that screams

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . !!!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . !!!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . !!!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . !!!



. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . !!!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . !!!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . !!!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . !!!



. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . !!!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . !!!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . !!!



. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . !!!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . !!!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . !!!

by .aNTI

night in early November

photographed by: Nod Quixote

excerpt #4

An excerpt from FLaW's short-story The Best Taste; created last year during a creative writing session.
*The whole version will be available in the first issue of our magazine


The Best Taste

"Joey had never tasted ice cream. His father was too poor to be able to spend money on such luxuries. Joey stood in front of the candy shop every day, devouring with his eyes the ice creams of those lucky rich kids, whose fathers had enough money to buy them as much as four scoops of ice cream, each with different taste. On top of them there was chocolate dressing and grounded hazelnuts, sprinkled over the dressing.
Joey knew what the ice cream would taste like, if he was lucky enough to ever try it. His 11th birthday was soon coming. He hoped that his father might buy him a scoop of ice cream for his birthday. Joey loved his father. He was hard working and honest but too naïve. Others always took advantage of him, which he knew, but was too humble to do anything against. Joey always told him that he needed to take charge of his life and stop being too obedient and let others crush him. But his father never took his advice. He told him how the biggest virtues in life are obedience and reverence. And he continued to live like that, obeying his principles. Joey thought about this as he went to bed, the night before his birthday..."

- FLaW

love poem

This time, we go with a love poem written by Garmirov... Thank you G. for sharing it with us.

A kiss of Passion

I pierced her lips
in a passionate kiss

I let the blood
gently spill down her body

She got upset
but quckly undrestood its beauty

I soaked my lips
in her blood and aproached to kiss her

I touched her hand
and i wiped my face from her hair

She smiled
the bed was stained red

She smiled
she said she loved me


-B. Z. Garmirov

excerpt #3 - short story by AlekSandra

"Dark and brooding sky shifted between evanescent tones of black and blue. It was a morning where people woke up trying to determine the time of day. A group of people crossed the street, noisily arguing about the green house effect. And for some inexplicable reason, everything seemed special, although it was an ordinary day in March. The dreamy effect glided smoothly through the city, coloring everything with shades of blue. The only intruder to this darkness was a dress, dark pink but almost red. The simplicity of Lena’s expression of serenity completed her innocent appearance. Her deep eyes were the only outward sign of her perceptive intelligence.

“I couldn’t face you,” remarked the tall boy who stood near her. One hand fidgeted the brown hair that covered the top of his ears. Whenever a voice came out of his lips, the vivid but now sad look was directed to the sidewalk.

“Don’t you see…. it doesn’t matter,” Lena replied with a gentle voice. A long silence seemed even too much to ask for. “I do remember the first time we met, although it seems so distant,” she added.

“Life is not as I thought it would be. My perplexed feelings seem to block the way,” he said in a coldly absent tone.

“In what way?”

“The one that chose me, but didn’t ask me even once. Can I say sorry to my life?”

“No, there is a great difference between the importance of your existence and what you want to be,” Lena disagreed.

“It takes centuries for people to realize the unimportance of their existence; in my case it took quite a short time.”

“I’d rather say it is better to leave everything so everyone remembers just the best of you. I hate letting people down." .....

poem (by .aNTI)

Something’s wrong…

Something’s wrong with

that which can not be seen broken

is the thing that’s invisible

creaks without a sound

that which can not be heard plays the wrong

pitches the old things lie not tuned that which

has no smell is rotten

call somebody something

the system is in the lack of

that which doesn’t exist fix

the step of that which

does not move something without

existence is false

rotten is the invisible

the soundless is not tuned

fix it

the world can not feel it

but it causes chaos

in the uber-system

of imagination

excerpt #2

This is an excerpt from a longer article on Nationalism, submitted by Karamazov.

Arguably, nationalism has been one of the most important phenomenon of the last 200 years of world history; it has been the driving force behind many a bloodshed, inspiration behind bitter struggles.. It has provided the oppressed with a viable weapon to counter the oppressor (anti-colonial struggles in Asia and Africa), but at the same time it has worked as an excuse for racist regimes killing innocent people, committing even mass murders (Hitler’s Third Reich and the events in Eastern Europe in the recent past).

In short, it has been drawing and re-drawing the political map of the globe constantly to lead us into the present scheme of things; and this process is still on.

But from a theoretical point of view what makes ‘nationalism’ different from any other ‘ideology’ is its amazing ability of changing itself according to different circumstances. With only some minor changes any group of people as different from each other as Indians are from the Germans can use ‘nationalism’ to achieve completely different goals but with the same force.

In short, over the years nationalism has been very ‘user-friendly’ which is surely one of the secrets behind its’ enormous popularity among the human kind.

- w. karamazov