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POEM<br />

the kettle boiled and I filled a cup of black tea from the mom’s tea service<br />

I‘m sitting on this chair and drinking tea.<br />

and it seems that nothing could be more eternal than this chair<br />

and I‘m sitting<br />

the chair no longer feels so comfortable and was it ever so?<br />

the chair has become familiar<br />

the chair has become eternal<br />

I can scream!<br />

I can sob!<br />

I can moan!<br />

I can bark!<br />

and I will sit<br />

and I will wait<br />

the whole world is already deafening<br />

and I‘m sitting<br />

the whistling of the kettle is already a part of me<br />

as I sit<br />

the sound penetrates every cell of my tired body<br />

as I sit<br />

the sound literally deafens me<br />

and I‘m sitting<br />

the kettle is boiling on the cooker<br />

and I‘m sitting there<br />

THE KETTLE<br />

Evgeniia Kadyrova<br />

Photo Editor<br />

Illustration: Evgeniia Kadyrova<br />

Illustration: AdobeStock // BrAt82<br />

Everlasting dystopia<br />

Mosac Frederic Stefanelad<br />

Writer<br />

All this life for naught,<br />

It is what it taught;<br />

Nothing like a summer sky,<br />

Knowing that the end is nigh.<br />

Rhetorical rhythmical redemption,<br />

All this metal should get detention.<br />

Lift my head to the second sun;<br />

Only to feel the light run.<br />

Mouths utter indescribable sounds<br />

For and to the ear that bows,<br />

And the eyes silently wage<br />

With the nose to smell the rage.<br />

Half the matter is in grey<br />

Half of it goes away;<br />

All of it looks and drools<br />

Questions not for words of fools.<br />

20<br />

Smoking clouds with darker houses,<br />

Candy eyes for it arouses;<br />

All of them are inebriated<br />

As Wonderlands tea is outdated.<br />

Sea of colors is ahold<br />

Crashing waves come to fold,<br />

With a tranquil lake resign<br />

Dim sky and snowy moon align.<br />

Internal irresistible infinite,<br />

Strike in a blaring screaming fit.<br />

All just dust with dreams<br />

That will never be fulfilled in years.<br />

Hands collide with sinful gaze<br />

To give afoot a never maze,<br />

A body luggage with a mindful<br />

But a head that is not careful.<br />

All this life for naught,<br />

It was what it taught;<br />

Everything like a meadow green,<br />

None of this for us to win.

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