THE KETTLE  – Evgeniia Kadyrova


the kettle is boiling on the cooker 

and I’m sitting there 


the sound literally deafens me 

and I’m sitting 


the sound penetrates every cell of my tired body 

as I sit 


the whistling of the kettle is already a part of me 

as I sit 


the whole world is already deafening 

and I’m sitting 


and I will sit 

and I will wait 


I can scream! 

I can sob! 

I can moan! 

I can bark! 


the chair no longer feels so comfortable and was it ever so? 

the chair has become familiar 

the chair has become eternal 


and it seems that nothing could be more eternal than this chair 

and I’m sitting 


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

I’m sitting on this chair and drinking tea. 



Everlasting Dystopia – Mosac Frederic-Stefanelad


All this life for naught, 

It is what it taught; 

Nothing like a summer sky, 

Knowing that the end is nigh. 


Rhetorical rhythmical redemption, 

All this metal should get detention. 

Lift my head to the second sun; 

Only to feel the light run. 


Mouths utter indescribable sounds 

For and to the ear that bows, 

And the eyes silently wage 

With the nose to smell the rage. 


Half the matter is in grey 

Half of it goes away; 

All of it looks and drools 

Questions not for words of fools. 


Smoking clouds with darker houses, 

Candy eyes for it arouses; 

All of them are inebriated 

As Wonderlands tea is outdated. 


Sea of colors is ahold 

Crashing waves come to fold, 

With a tranquil lake resign 

Dim sky and snowy moon align. 


Internal irresistible infinite, 

Strike in a blaring screaming fit. 

All just dust with dreams 

That will never be fulfilled in years. 


Hands collide with sinful gaze 

To give afoot a never maze, 

A body luggage with a mindful 

But a head that is not careful. 


All this life for naught, 

It was what it taught; 

Everything like a meadow green, 

None of this for us to win. 


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