Monthly Archives: October 2018

Visit our FREE to download Bookshelves

The Ovi Bookshop may not have shelves, but you can still find a variety (even in languages) of PDF books stocked here. Over time, we will be adding more titles to our selection and offer the possibility of digitally printing the books, so you can actually hold it in your hands.

All for FREE!

Visit us HERE!


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Ovi means Door #IX


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New Century by Nikos Laios

The fog cleared
And the whaler glided
Into the bay as the workers
Sat on steel girders
With their legs dangling
High over the new
City they were building.

newcentury01_400It was a new century,
And in a hundred years,
Who will remember them
Or their works?

Who will remember
The wooden docks
And unions,
The coal ships,
Newspaper stands,
Drug stores and

Who will remember
The rising factories,
Steel tracks,
Radio stations,
And dance halls
On a Saturday night?

Who will remember
The plunging DOW,
Jazz, telephone booths,
The jackboots,
Steel bayonets,
Famine, death
And the marching

Who will remember
The cross and the crescent,
The hammer and sickle;
The materialism,
Lust, and greed
Of the dumbed-down
Hipster generation
Grown fat parading the streets
Pierced, bearded and tattooed
Heads bowed down
Staring at their

Who will remember
This all?
Who will remember
This progress?
Who will remember
The new century?


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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Small Rolls by Patrick McWade

For more Then, Again, HERE!

For more Ovi Cartoons, HERE!

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Trance And Dental Medication by Jan Sand

No doubt the prospect of a tooth
Infected by a microbe’s lack of ruth
Conjures scenes of horror and dismay
To convert each healthy hair from black to gray.

Would that dentist’s eyes, hard merciless,
Could fascinate, not generate distress.
Those pupils could, in hypnotic power
Soothe me to sleep for torture’s hour.

So while I sail 3through golden dreamland seas
My dentist grinds and chips at my disease,
Bores holes and stuffs them with a sturdy filling,
A process consciousness finds less than thrilling.

Then, rising with a renewed smile,
I congratulate his skill and clever guile
And still a captive to his guiding will
Spread wide my billfold and overpay his bill


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Nadia Murad: A Yazidi Voice Against Slavery by Rene Wadlow

Nadia Murad, now a United Nation Goodwill Ambassador on Trafficking of Persons, is the co-laureate of the 2018 Nobel Peace Prize. In 2014 when she was 21, she and her neighbors in a predominantly Yazidi village in the Simjar mountainous area of Iraq were attacked by the forces of the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS). These forces were following a pattern of targeted killings, forced conversions to Islam, abductions, trafficking of women, sexual abuse and slavery. In Murad’s village, most of the older men were killed, the younger men taken to be soldiers in the ISIS forces, and the women taken into slavery, primarily as sex slaves, in Mosul, the city which served as the headquarters of ISIS.

nadia01_400There were some 500,000 Yazidi in Iraq though Iraqi demographic statistics are not fully reliable. Yazidi leaders may give larger estimates by counting Kurds who had been Yazidis but had covertd to Islam. There had been some 200,000 Yazidis among the Kurds in Turkey but now nearly all have migrated to Western Europe, Australia and Canada. Many of the Yazidi are ethnic Kurds and the government of Sadam Hussein was opposed to them not so much for their religious beliefs but because some Yazidi played important roles in the Kurdish community seen as largely opposed to his government.

After a time in Mosul, Murad, with the help of a compassionate Muslim family, was able to escape Mosul and make her way to the Iraqi Kurdistan area where many Yazidis from the Sinjar area had already arrived. Once there she joined a newly created association of Yazidi women who had organized to defend their rights and so that the voices of women could be heard. A few of these women were able to be resettled in Western Europe. Nadia Murad was able to live in Germany where she became the spokesperson for Yazidi women and other women who had met a similar fate. In December 2015, she addressed the U.N. Security Council and became the public face both for the Yazidi women and for an even larger number of women victims of the fighting in Iraq and Syria.

The structure of the Yazidi world view is Zoroastrian, a faith born in Persia proclaiming that two great cosmic forces, that of light and good, and that of darkness and evil, are in constant battle. Man is called upon to help light overcome darkness. However, the strict dualistic thinking of Zoroastrianism was modified by another Persian prophet, Mani of Ctesiplon in the third century CE. Mani tried to create a synthesis of religious teachings that were increasingly coming into contact through trade: Buddhism and Hinduism from India, Jewish and Christian thought, Gnostic philosophy from Egypt and Greece, as well as many smaller traditional and “animist” beliefs. He kept the Zoroastrian dualism as the most easily understood intellectual framework, though giving it a more Taoist (yin/yang) character. Mani had traveled in China. He developed the idea of the progression of the soul by individual effort through reincarnation – a main feature of Indian thought.

Within the Mani-Zoroastrian framework, the Yazidi added the presence of angels who are to help humans in their constant battle for light and good. The main angel is Melek Tavis, the peacock angel. Although there are angels in Islam, angels that one does not know could well be demons, so the Yazidi are regularly accused of being “demon worshipers” (1).

While it is dangerous to fall into a good/evil analysis of world politics, there is little to see of “good” in the iSIS actions. Thus Nadia Murad can be seen as a bringer of light into a dark time.

Ovi magazine

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Snapshot by Bohdan Yuri

The sun was lazy in setting on our last day,
A Labor Day breeze cooled most repartee,
The drive back to the city would be delayed,
As Mike and Donna, in whose house was played,
This last summer weekend, our family’s soiree.
The camera was set for one last memento
Of what was shared on their country estate.

So Aunt Lydia brought along her companion
A full glass of Chablis, with nothing to spare.
Uncle Fred his Cuban cigar and a brandy for taste.
They were a constant pair that seldom would fray
Except to convey a sharp disdain for anyone late.
It would be their last summer performing together
As Aunt Lydia ran out — out of their time.

Tommy’s wife, she was nowhere to be found.
He wondered if she paused in one of the rooms,
Perhaps was at play with his second cousin Ray.
The fight they’d carried would be the reason
For her to get even and in the worst of ways.
Though their marriage was doomed from the start
When Tommy lay down with his best man’s wife.

Sheila and Rita, Donna’s sweet younger sisters
Were still hoping to find a man with just a heart,
And Blanche, the oldest, her husband at home,
Tried concealing the abuse, but everyone knew.
Uncles, Kevin and Mike used grown-up tools,
Always testing the pushing skills between the two,
And, then there was my Father, proud to be free.

He worked hard, sharing in the dreams of the day;
My Mother, kind and loving in every warm way.
They weren’t as wealthy as the rest of the clan
But they gave us their hearts in a way to convey:
Always, the full love of life and a life full of love.
My brother and I know that we both can compare
The difference that love showed on that fine day.

Dressed in travel clothes that begged to be dashed,
We children, anxious and loud, strayed to run free,
Chasing the last realms of echoes, years apart.
Each new day was a chance that had to be played
Into endless places and free of grown up charades.
But the words came from parents, in self imposed ruins,
To collect our generations and show off our bloom.

So as we all gathered on those painted porch steps,
Shapes posed and composed a memory for us all.
Uncle Fred raised his glass and confessed to us all
That this was the time to toast our family’s good name,
Aunt Lydia her glass, the rest with just a hooray.
Uncle Mike set the timer and rushed into his place,
In time, as the shutter exposed our family’s full face.

And what of my children, who were not even born
When that snapshot recorded such glorious forms;
What will they say when the story in novel is retold,
Of those shared moments on that summer’s last day?
Perhaps a brief puzzlement of what now seems so old.
But the most important question that can bind it all,
As nothing matters more, “Which one are you, Daddy?”


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