by W. “Cured Eel” Sabi

In a great ocean,
even a whale is small.
All motion fantails.


Japanese Whale Fishing
          by W. “Cured Eel” Sabi

Japan announced it has pulled out o’ th’ IWC:
in 2019, whalers can go out into the sea.
Since 1986 there’s been a moratorium,
but Japanese used science ships to get their hunting done.
But that will stop, now that the whalers will be free again
to operate in its exclusive economic zone.
Chief Secretary Yoshihide Suga notified
the change due to impatience, looking only at one side.
He said that the Commission isn’t interested in
sustainable whale fishing; all they want to do is ban.

W. “Cured Eel” Sabi is a poet of Japan.


The Bird Nest Artistic Consultant Loses His Art Studio in Beijing, 2018
          by Aw “Curbside” Lee

A giant flattened tire set in the middle of Beijing,
the Bird Nest sports arena has been praised by Xi Jinping;
but not Ai Weiwei, at the time, who thought the stadium
was merely patriotic propaganda tedium.
Now living in Berlin, this year his studio was razed.
Not living in Beijing, he was not made to go away,
as earlier he had been forced to do some years ago,
accused of tax evasion, which he said was merely show.
All swallows have been chased out from Zuo You, more or less.
The people here must be controlled. Art is not happiness.

Aw “Curbside” Lee is a poet of New Millennium China.


The Trial Begins
          by Lu ‘Reed ABCs” Wei

They stand beside the railing, Wang Quanzhang and Li Wenzhu;
a little child bundled up is in between the two.
They are all smiles in the cold and sunny, wintry day,
It’s 2015, and before he “had to go away”.
He had been “disappeared” by China’s Communist brigade;
He has been held in secrecy; his face nowhere displayed.
And now, at 42, he’s being tried for crimes he’s done;
as advocate for human rights, he is an “evil” one.
How dare he try to help the persecuted…years ago?
Who’ll be his legal advocate in this sham-trial show?

Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei is a poet of New Millennial China.


Tsunami Waves
          by Budi Eas Celewr

Mount Anuk Krakatau erupted in the Sunda Strait
in Indonesian Lambung province on last Saturday.
The Child of Krakatoa lies between Sumatra and
the isle of Java at the edge ‘o th’ In-dian O-ce-an.
More than 400 died when the volcano hit the sea,
erupting in tsunami waves that caused much misery.
Though not like 1883, when thousands lost their lives,
still sorrow registered in those who barely just survived,
like Seventeen’s lead singer, who, yet did not lose his life,
lost sev’ral members of the band, and worst for him, his wife.

Budi Eas Celewr is a poet of Indonesia who embraces sastra koran (newspaper literature).


Putin Reveals New Hypersonic Missile
          by Rus Ciel Badeew

The Russians have reported that they’ve made a missile that
is hypersonic and it can reach up to Mach 5 flat.
Officials said it launched from Orenburg, near Kazakhstan,
and hit a test range in Kamchatka as per preset plan.
According to reports the glider’s capable of speeds
bypassing all known missile rampart defense system needs.
Vladimir Putin said it reaches each place in the World,
and that it can’t be tracked by any power when it’s hurled.
He said that Russia should not e’er forget security.
Won’t people fe-el safer now he’s on his nuke-hot spree?

Rus Ciel Badeew is a poet of Russia.


Fake News Der Spiegel
          by Caud Bile Sewer

Der Spiegel has been offering fake news for many years;
the latest case was Claas Relotius, the journalist,
who won a CNN award for his untruthful news—
named 2014’s yearly journalist. The problem was
he authored lies and passed them off as clever reportage.
The mainstream media was printing lies in camoflage.
For years Der Spiegel writers loved to bad-mouth AfD;
but now it has been caught in lies to such a large degree,
that accusations of a “lying press” are more than few;
they are reality, they are the actual, the true.

Caud Bile Sewer is a poet of the news.


The Last Black Coal Mine in Germany
          by Uwe Carl Diebes
          “Into the bosom of the earth out of the light’s dominion…”
              —Novalis, Hymn to Night #6

In Germany, the last black coal mine operating closed.
The final miner will be washed. The site has now been hosed.
But that is not the end of coal in Germany it seems;
for lignite, brown coal, still will be mined in its earth-bound seams.
And Germany will also be importing lots of coal;
in fact, it’s the 6th largest World importer of that fuel.
But life in mines is always tough for workers at their tasks;
like silicosis, broken knees, and herniated discs.
Those things no longer will be plagues in Bottrop, Germany;
although its unemployment numbers will see an increase.

Uwe Carl Diebes is a poet of Germany.


Hermann Weyl (1885-1955)
          by Euclidrew Base

His first work was in Riemann surfaces, where one beholds
the very new construction of an abstract manifold,
where he united function theory and geometry
along with the ideas brewing in topology.
Like Hilbert, he could see th’ importance of physícs to math,
and during WW1 in Zurich wrote “Space, Time and Matt’r”.
Next came his thoughts on the Continuum where he embraced
the mathematic thought of Brouwer, intuition-based.
He also came, in time, to see the value and the use
of reps and the invariants of classical Lie groups.
Quantum mechanics and eletrodynamics ensued,
when spectral theory work was with group symmetries pursued.

Euclidrew is a poet of mathematics and mathematicians. Weyl truly tried uniting beauty with the truth, but when he had to choose between the two, he went with beauty then.


A Boy, Not Quite a Man
          by Ubs Reece Idwal

A large bright moon, arises o’er Seattle’s dark, stark night.
A boy, not quite a man, is dancing in that filtered light.
He runs along the concrete slabs and leaps upon the bricks.
He loves the magic of the scene and swirls through high kicks.
The loneliness is horrifying, but the beauty’s real.
He feels an emotional, kaleidoscopic wheel.
He turns. He rises to the crisis of his heart. He burns.
He walks along, like Hamlet, through the whirled he discerns.
When will he e’er be able to assess the damage done?
When he becomes much happier and savors what is fun.

Ubs Reece Idwal is a poet of the Pacific Northwest.


The World Is So Big
          R. Lee Ubicwedas

The World is so big and so incomprehensible
it takes a lifetime to start to make any sense of it.
When you are young you wonder at th’ enormousness of trains.
What are they doing there? Why are they there at all?—huge chains
that take you far away to places you could not dream of,
as troublesome and impenetrable as creamy love,
or loaves of bread prepared in mass-production factories.
How curious are life’s astonishing trajectories.
We take them never knowing where we’re going—just the same—
as if we could construe what we already overcame.

R. Lee Ubicwedas is a poet of Ubiquity.


I Saw a Giant Train
          by Red Was Iceblue

I saw a giant train come out of blue and purple light,
the colours of its cars, red, yellow, orange, black and white.
It seemed gargantuan and powerful, a forceful shape,
about to take the World on in one horrendous rape.
I saw a Christlike figure standing on the station deck,
a T turned from technology, a knowledge out of Tech.
The two could not be further from each other in that space,
machine and man, th’ ungodly and the spirit in one place.
I saw a cataclysmic vision painted on a page.
It seemed to speak succinctly for the Nightmare of our Age.

Red Was Iceblue is a poet of Modernist, Postmodernist, and New Millennial art.


          by Air Weelbed Suc

These stream-lined clouds of water-vapour condensation freeze
around the aerosol existing in th’ exhaust one sees,
containing gas and solid particles, and make contrails
upon the azure atmosphere, their straight and shooting tails,
emissions here composed of varied oxides pouring out
and hydrocarbons, such as methane, sulfates, and pure soot.
Persistent spreading contrails, like these fuzzy, broad white lines,
affect the climate, more than less, because of their designs.
They cover a far larger area when so induced,
so many grams of fuel per meter when the jet is juiced.

Air Weelbed Suc is a poet of aircraft.


Kilmer Remilk
          by Wic E. Ruse Blade

I know that I shall never see
a poem lovely as a tree;
nor shall I ever come to know
a tree that talks or thinks to go.