Genghis Khan, remembered Mongol“Mongolo”moron, psychopath par excellenceGreat Khan, great dog of YinchuanFrom the Republic of ChinaAdmired serial killer leaderFrom Eastern EuropeTo the Pacific OceanAnd from Siberia to MesopotamiaIndia and IndochinaHe has been incarnated in some humans:The favorites, the chosen onesSince the times of the Printing PressAs we see itIn the History … [Read more...] about Genghis Khan Resurrected, By: Daniel de Culla
Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, By: William Wordsworth
Too frail to keep the lofty vowThat must have followed when his browWas wreathed "The Vision" tells us howWith holly spray,He faltered, drifted to and fro,And passed away. Well might such thoughts, dear Sister, throngOur minds when, lingering all too long,Over the grave of Burns we hungIn social griefIndulged as if it were a wrongTo seek relief. But, leaving each unquiet … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, By: William Wordsworth
Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 – XXVI. – Continued, By: William Wordsworth
As indignation mastered grief, my tongueSpake bitter words; words that did ill agreeWith those rich stores of Nature's imagery,And divine Art, that fast to memory clungThy gifts, magnificent Region, ever youngIn the sun's eye, and in his sister's sightHow beautiful! how worthy to be sungIn strains of rapture, or subdued delight!I feign not; witness that unwelcome shockThat … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 – XXVI. – Continued, By: William Wordsworth
Pot Noodle, By: Hongwei Bao
No matter what big cuisine or delicatessen I’ve hadduring the day. At midnight and in the darkI’d feel my way to the kitchen. Sharp eyes of an owl,homing instinct of a pigeon. Digging in the pantryfor pot noodles I’ve recently bought. Kettle on. Water boiling. White steamevaporates in the air.The smell, the taste, transports meto another time, another place. The childhood … [Read more...] about Pot Noodle, By: Hongwei Bao
Damaged Love, By: Teri Dourmashkin
Why do we weep, souls in sheer agony?Indifference is deafening, walking dead calls your name.The loveless incapable of hearing a word.Emptiness so deep,writhing in pain.They are the lost ones, ghost towns feigning a life.Projected their fears, sooty dust all around.Feeling the hurt, hearts tattered, shattered dreams.Feeling so unlovable, painted skies dried up ink.It never was … [Read more...] about Damaged Love, By: Teri Dourmashkin