Monthly Archives: April 2017

For a sister in faraway Johannesburg by Abigail George

For a sister in faraway Johannesburg

night01_400Look at this, handsome stranger.
Look at what I have in my hands.

The dull flame of desire. This enchantment of wildflowers.
Jean Rhys’ Dominica and her mocking

Purple sea and remember this. That children go together with the
long, tired spells of shadows on

the beach. Children go especially with the gull
that meets the Mediterranean-blue

mirror of the sky at the end of the
world. Where the clouds meet sleeping

walls of light. So, filled with light that it nourishes the soul.
Look, look what I have in my hands.

The sun, the sun. The radiant sun.
Come, come, let it nourish our souls.

Abigail George has two books in the Ovi Bookshelves,
“All about my mother” & “Brother Wolf and Sister Wren”
Download them, NOW for FREE HERE!


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Our Alexandria by Nikos Laios

Our Alexandria

The flame has
Now gone.

homestead_400The streets
Of the cosmopolitan
City of ideas has emptied,
And the waves of wisdom

The once bright
Flame that flickered
Against the burnished
Brass is radiant
No more.

The light
That shone on
Geraniums and
Hyacinths that
Wreathed themselves
Around the feet of
Our desires and
Their shadows
Now strolling

Thoughts and
Desires mingled
In equal measure
To mellifluous sounds.

The Haunting
Melodies that floated
Over the room
And across the city
Like a zeppelin,
As the night breeze slowly
Undulated the soft curtains
Like the curves of an exotic dancer,
Ice cubes clinking in the glass,
Under the mournful notes of
Some sad eastern song.

Cooled by
The soft kisses
Of the once great
City,as the last beads
Of sweat danced and
Coiled themselves
Around my neck.

My mind, flying,flying
On the wings of the
Once bright light from
The Pharos that
Illuminated the
Dark recesses.

O,how I yearn
For those
Days,for our

As the dried,
Dead geraniums
And hyacinths
Tumble down
The cold and
Darkened city
Streets past
Shuttered shops.

For the flame
Has dimmed,the
Now gone.

We have
Lost our


With a digital drawing from Nikos Laios


Check Nikos Laios’ EBOOK
Ida & Her Magic Camera
is online now and you can download for FREE HERE!


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Eureka: Creativity is hard work without rigidity by Akli Hadid

Something I noticed about the South Koreans is that they tend to be incredibly rigid until their business or team starts losing by alarming margins. That’s when, just as a technical knockout is about to be called, they tend to lose their rigidity and come up with creative plans to reemerge.

creat01_400As a coach I don’t really have rules for my team. A few guidelines, but no rules. You can check your phone all you want, you can chew gum, you can take toilet breaks, you can rest if you’re tired, you can talk with your teammates, take a nap, play music videos or use four letter words. What I want is those bad habits to gradually and naturally disappear, rather than policing my ten commandments for being the perfect team member. I don’t yell off the top of my lungs “thou shalt not use your phone during training sessions.” I let the guy or girl use their phone, or chew gum, or use four letter words, I don’t praise them for doing that, then one day at lunch I might tell them ‘is there a specific reason for you to use your phone so much?” Gradually my team members stop using their phone, stop chewing gum and stop playing music videos for their teammates to watch.

The advantage of not forcing myself on such small annoying habits is that on the playing field the team tends to play consciously on the field. They know there’s no right answer as to who to pass the ball or project to. They know they will need to improvise, to play by ear, to feel the chemistry around them while they’re on the field.

Read the whole article in Ovi Magazine, HERE!

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For My Husband by Virginia Maria Romero

For My Husband

Alone together
       we enter night’s arena
with one last glimmer
twilight embraces
fertile (moist darkness
so shall we remain
adorned in shadows
sustained by faith


  A painting from Virginia Maria Romero

More of Virginia Maria Romero’s paintings HERE!


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The Creepy Bungling Inspector Clouseau-like Relationship between Trump and the US Spy Agencies by Dr. Emanuel Paparella

Sen. Lindsey Graham, Rep. South Carolina, has dubbed the relationship of President Trump to the US spy agencies to a Dr. Clouseau investigating himself. He is probably on to something considering the various bungling self-defeating and incompetent ways by which  the House has so far been conducting the Russia dealings investigation.

It remains an entertainingly funny reality show controlled by the White House but it feels as if it could change on a dime and turn into a sad ugly tragedy. The question arises: is control slipping away from Trump prompting him to challenge agencies’ integrity and alleging that (in collusion with former president Obama) they monitored his presidential campaign?

papar01_400_02It is well known that counter-allegations have surfaced of Trump’s White House funneling secret intelligence reports to top Republicans investigating its ties to Russian officials as well as the Kremlin’s interference in the 2016 presidential election. These investigations, if proven, will seriously threaten his presidency. They also may reflect a deepening distrust of the intelligence community among Trump’s political advisers who remain bungling amateurs when it comes to classified information and covert programs. Michael Hayden, former CIA head and the National Security Agency has quipped lately that those bunglings “reveal a chasm of ignorance about how stuff is done.

It is also well known that Trump, with the backing of political advisers Steve Bannon and Jared Kushner, initially sought to put Wall Street billionaire Stephen Feinberg in charge of a review of the intelligence agencies. An early assessment of the review suggested the elimination of the Office of the Director of National Intelligence, (the umbrella agency created after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks) in order to better streamline and coordinate intelligence. At least that was the official rationale. The oversight agency was simply an unnecessary bureaucracy that ended up manipulating and distorting information. Now, however, the operative words are no longer “dismantle” the intelligence agencies, but “trim and optimize” to better make them manageable. The question arises: manageable by whom?

Read the whole article in Ovi Magazine, HERE!

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Creat(ure)or by Gordana Mudri

In days of yore I’ve had a land
so full of divine beauty,
there was no need and no command
and joy was all my duty.

yore01_400Filled with peace were all my days,
in wonder I have gazed
at all that treasure, all that grace
and truly I was dazed.

Then creature came, in narrow trace
with skin as silver light,
beside my feet, she took the place
immovable and bright.

In silence, I’ve enjoyed my world,
my eyes at flowers’ charm,
as friendly being, she still was curled,
her presence brought no harm.

– Take, she said, her voice was sweet,
I shuddered of its grace
but sudden fear and sudden heat
just kept me on my place.

– Why? I asked wide open eyes,
too small to understand.
– Because you can, the answer was,
and I’ve just reached with hand.

The sudden feel, which grabbed my brain,
I’ve never felt before
but strange desire then rushed amain
and I’ve just whispered: more.

Possessed by thrill, my mind was blurred,
when golden fruit I’ve seen,
then whisper from the ground I’ve heard,
the sound was quite serene.

– Eat, she said with gentle voice,
and pleasure shook my core
but heartbeat made a sudden noise
and I felt like before.

– Why? I asked avoiding blame,
too young to understand.
– Because you can, the answer came
and I’ve just reached with hand.

The taste so sweet, which caused my shout,
I’ve never felt before,
but in my mind, there was no doubt,
and I’ve just whispered: more.

Against the grain, my need has grown,
I’ve walked in flames of pain
along the stream so fresh and known,
this creature as my chain.

– Drink, she said, her voice was calm
and I forgot the dread,
just drop of sweat slid down my palm
as flowing sign of threat.

– Why? I asked, trapped in my cage,
to weak to understand.
– Because you can, I felt slight rage
and I’ve just reached with hand.

A great relief, which washed my flesh,
I’ve never felt before.
I’ve stood as caught up in the mesh
and I’ve just whispered: more.

As in the trance, I took my path,
along the herd of lambs,
insensitive to fear or wrath,
oblivious to scams.

– Kill, she said with heartless hiss,
I’ve frozen of its sound,
but  I allowed a lethal kiss
as dug into the ground.

– Why? I asked, my brain so meek,
addicted to her cries.
– Because you can, I’ve heard a shriek
and I’ve just closed my eyes.

Delightful call of endless might
I’ve never felt before.
I’ve dived into oncoming night
and I’ve just whispered: more.

Drawn into a deadly game
I’ve played my humble role.
I’ve felt no guilt, I had no shame
the creature kept control.

The blood has poisoned all my streams
and all my fruits were dried.
The flowers stayed just bygone dreams,
my entire world has died.

I’ve walked along this deadly track
with nothing to adore.
I said, I must convert it back
to what it was before.

– It cannot be, she sneered at me
wrapped around my spine.
In fatal fear, I could have seen
all ghosts that stood in line.

– Why? I asked, prepared to fight
but I’ve foreseen the truth.
– Because you can’t, I felt the bite
and learned the final sooth.

The endless pain, which took my breath,
I’ve never felt before.
My final scream was shut by death,
too late I said: no more!

In days of yore I’ve had a land
so full of divine beauty,
there was no need and no command
but I’ve betrayed my duty.


Ovi magazine

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