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The game we all win
Foreword This share was intended for International Women’s Day. Not much more to say than that. Poem: The game we all win [contemporary lyric] Her sneakers squeak like mine on the court—Swish! No “girls can’t” or “boys won’t” distortthe scoreboard’s truth: teamwork is the play.Pass her the ball—watch stereotypes sway. We’re coders, both debugging the same glitch—Her loops are lightning, my functions catch the itch.The screen doesn’t care whose fingers type faster,just press Enter—let progress be the master. At lunch, she debates black holes and Mars;I sketch dragons, but we’re both reaching stars.Why box brains as “his” or “hers”? Let us scream:Curiosity is genderless—fuel for the team. They say “boys…
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The braid that became a bridge
Foreword The next chapter in my political poems:Girls’ and women’s rights—not something most boys my age are thought to care about—matter deeply to me. Freedom and dignity are universal rights; they shouldn’t be restricted by gender, ancient texts, or writings from figures with flawed morals that some claim to be divine words. No righteous god would deny people self-expression, especially while claiming we’re made in its image. Boys, girls, men, women—we all deserve autonomy. Being oneself isn’t evil; evil lies in shackling others under the guise of righteousness. Note: “Zan, Zendegi, Azadi” (زن، زندگی، آزادی) originates from the Kurdish slogan “Jin, Jiyan, Azadî” (ژن، ژیان، ئازادی), meaning Woman, Life, Freedom.…
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We Are the Knot
Borders dissolve where Alpine snow meets Aegean blue—Lisbon loans sunlight to Helsinki’s dusk,Sarajevo’s cafes brew Dublin’s rain,and every train track hums the same chord:“Alone, we’re notes. Together—anthem.” Britain? Come home. Your island is a commain Europe’s run-on sentence. We’ve missed your verbs—the “might” and “could” that once built bridgesfrom your chalk cliffs to our olive groves. Kyiv’s sunflower fields tilt west, hungry for horizons,Chișinău’s cellar wine now aged to courage—but this isn’t expansion. It’s a family relearningits hands: Vienna’s waltz, Sofia’s fire, Seville’s sweat. Yesterday, a voice cracked across the Atlantic—“Divide!” it barked. “Build moats, not doors!”So we answered with Catalan sails patching Baltic storms,Sicilian lemons sweetening Nordic frost,Warsaw’s poets…
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Ukraine continues to bloom
Foreword Not much for me to say here; my last poem should be clear in my worldview. Ukraine has become a symbol of liberty, of freedom, of strength, of courage, but most of all, of democracy. Its fight against the autocracy of Russia, amidst the rise of tyranny in the United States, is inspiring and makes me proud not just to be European (like every Ukrainian), but also to be the son of a Ukrainian dad, holding his family name. The Ukrainian lyrics in the attached music video were translated by my brother Ilya. Poem: Ukraine continues to bloom [Free-verse ode] Sunflowers don’t ask for war —they spear through tank…
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Dystopia.exe (Error 404)
Foreword We live in a world where adults are too braindead to realize the truth, leading our world to disaster by following authoritarians like Trump and Putin. No longer just embers, the fire is burning. We all stand by as it grows larger, and we’re thrown into dystopia. At the end of days, this will serve as a lesson to my generation and future generations. Generation Alpha and Generation Beta will rise from the ashes created by Boomers and Generation X – starting the flood Millennials and Zoomers had so many chances to unleash, but they’ve instead become the most idle generation. They follow evil while blinded by false promises…
