"Over New Wave and Coffeebreak"

"Over New Wave and Coffeebreak"

"Two Days in Taihoku"

I saw you first at Gate 29
Just a blur in the crowd, but your eyes met mine
A flight attendant with winds on her skin
And me with a journal, just taking it in
We said our hellos, like time never went
From chalkboard days to where all those letters went
And we laughed like we did in our old school hall
But this was a city that knew how to stall

Then you said you’d be walking through town
Just two days to burn, till you’re outbound
We met near the market where lanterns glow
By the tea shops and bikes in a steady flow
You wore the night like a soft perfume
I spoke of poems and hotel rooms
We traded the hours for glances and grace
Each moment a brushstroke, each word in its place

Two days in Taihoku, and the sky turned slow
Like a song from youth we used to know
One touch and the past fell into frame
No promises made, no one to blame
We were just two names the world forgot
Till time gave us this quiet shot
No maps, no covers—
Just love from a layover

You whispered, “Tomorrow, I fly at noon”
But the silence between us filled up the room
We danced through the shadows of Shilin streets
With hearts that were careful, yet skipped their beats
No baggage claimed, no future drawn
But something eternal was passing on
You left with a smile, no need for goodbyes
But I kept your name where the plum trees rise

Two days in Taihoku, and the sky turned slow
Like a song from youth we used to know
One touch and the past fell into frame
No promises made, no one to blame
We were just two names the world forgot
Till time gave us this quiet shot
No maps, no covers—
Just love from a layover

“Cream Without a Crown” 

Morning broke without a whisper

Coffee cooled, and time stood still

You left your coat on the back of a chair

Like you meant to come back—but never will

The steam forgot to rise today

Like hope that lost its way

I watched the cup turn solemn, calm

Where once love danced in foam and charm

And now it’s cream without a crown

A quiet fall, no trumpet sound

You smiled, but not for me

So I drank the emptiness

Dignified, but breaking down

It’s cream without a crown

I used to trace your name in spirals

In every swirl, I found a sign

But now the barista barely looks

And the milk forgets to shine

There’s no crescendo in this song

No saxophone to lead me on

Just porcelain truths and whispered lies

As your shadow slips outside

It’s cream without a crown

No curtain call, no gold renown

You spoke, and I heard fate

In a voice I was too late

And I drank the silence down

Like cream without a crown 

We don’t lose love all at once

It fades like sugar left unstirred

No goodbye, no final touch

Just the ache of what we heard 

Now it’s cream without a crown

Where hearts once flew, they now fall down

You were never mine to lose

But I dressed up just to bruise

And I sipped it like a vow…

This cream without a crown 

No froth to rise…

Just the hush where love once lied…

Cream without… a crown…

"The Day The Flat White Lost Its Froth" 

Walked into the café
Same seat, same song, same dream
Thought I’d see you smiling
But you were leaning in too deep
He touched your hand and laughed
You looked away, then back
And in that slow-motion silence
I felt the world go flat

Barista asked “The usual?”
Yeah, but nothing felt the same
No swirl, no rise, no shimmer—
Just coffee, cold and plain

The day the flat white lost its froth
You said you had a boyfriend, I felt off
No spark, no lift, no sugar lie
Just truth dripping like a cloudy sky
And I sat there, trying not to show
How everything turned monochrome
The day, the day
The flat white lost its froth

You didn’t see me falter
Didn’t notice I was there
You laughed like it was summer
While I froze inside my chair
I held the cup too tightly
Like it could explain the sting
But love don’t float forever
And some milk just doesn’t cling

She stirred his name into her lips
Like sweet and bitter cream
And I drank mine in silence
Swallowing the dream

The day the flat white lost its froth
You told me what I feared, and I got lost
No art, no bloom, no secret sign
Just a name I’ll hate for all of time
And I sipped it down, played it cool
Burnt my tongue pretending I’m no fool
The day, the day
The flat white lost its froth

I thought maybe, just maybe
You’d see me standing there
But maybe’s just a word we use
When we know they never cared

The day the flat white lost its froth
She had a boyfriend, I took the loss
No foam to float, no wish to keep
Just hot regret and bitter steep
And I walked out into the rain
Let the city spell your name again
The day, the day
The flat white lost its froth

I’ll still drink it tomorrow…
But it won’t taste the same.

Mamdani’s Win: Rethinking Populism and Progressivism in America

Mamdani’s Win: Rethinking Populism and Progressivism in America

Zohran Mamdani’s recent victory as New York City Mayor is more than a local political story. It is a fissure in the frozen landscape of American politics. For years, progressives have chipped at the hardened structures of establishment power, but Mamdani’s win signals that the ice is finally shifting. 

To be honest, Donald Trump’s rhetoric, while flashy and appealing to the notion of “greatness,” never truly disrupted the system. His promises to “drain the swamp” or “downsize” government left the machinery intact — in some ways, they made it worse. Scandals, dysfunction, and entrenched inequities persisted. Trump’s politics was spectacle; Mamdani’s politics is substance. 

Why did Mamdani succeed where Cuomo, other Democrats, and even Trump could not? The answer lies partly in the spirit of progressivism itself. But remember: over the decades, progressivism has often been torn between two conflicting impulses: the urgent need to craft real, implementable policies that address systemic problems, and the comfort of signaling correctness — the “current thing” of politics, where virtue is measured more by rhetoric than results. In some quarters, this has morphed into a preference for staying with the status quo, content to maintain appearances rather than challenge entrenched power. The consequence is that the progressive movement often appears frozen, paralyzed by optics, consensus, and the fear of making waves. In such a climate, it is no wonder that ordinary voters, frustrated by stagnation, might be tempted to jump on the Trump bandwagon, drawn by the promise of immediate, if short-term, satisfaction — the allure of disruption even if it lacks substance. By prioritizing signaling over substance, progressivism risks alienating those it seeks to serve, leaving a vacuum that spectacle-driven populism can easily exploit. 

Mamdani refused to settle. He engaged directly with the concerns of ordinary people, building solutions that were both principled and practical. He reminded voters that democratic socialism is not ideology for its own sake; it is a framework for making life better here and now. 

Some critics will say this is populism. The answer is yes — but of a very different stripe. Trump-style populism thrives on fear, anger, and symbolic disruption, often turning frustration into division. Mamdani’s populism, by contrast, emphasizes solidarity, empowerment, and community. It seeks reform through real engagement with the “common people,” rather than pitting them against one another. The difference is the vector: one divides, the other organizes; one agitates, the other builds. It is also not surprising that progressivism has its populist roots — after all, the movement has always sought to be with the people, to channel their concerns into tangible change. But it is also not surprising that progressivism, when trapped in the “current thing” of politics, creates a contented, almost complacent political setup. In such a setup, the pursuit of justice, development, and peace is often reduced to rhetoric or piecemeal measures — gestures far less ambitious than the New Deal or the Great Society. The risk is that progressivism, when it substitutes signaling and incrementalism for substantive action, leaves a vacuum that can be filled by spectacle-driven populism, while the deeper structural problems of society remain unaddressed. 

Why did it take a minority candidate like Mamdani to break through? The answer is as much about the limitations of the political system as it is about Mamdani himself. Some would argue that a Trump of 1999, in a different political moment, might have achieved something similar — promising to tax the rich, even himself, to cut taxes for the middle class, or to explore policies like universal healthcare — before he became ensnared by the “anti-establishment establishment” and seduced by nationalism and the grandiose promise of making America “great.” At that time, the currents of frustration and desire for change were present, but the trajectory of leaders and institutions often diverted potential reform into spectacle or symbolic gestures. 

Mamdani’s triumph, by contrast, reflects a convergence of principle, strategy, and attentiveness to ordinary people. He did not simply ride a wave of dissatisfaction; he built structures of engagement, listened to communities, and proposed tangible policies that directly addressed systemic inequities. This combination — vision paired with operational discipline and genuine connection to the electorate — has been missing in both the old Democratic establishment and the spectacle-driven right. The establishment too often prioritizes optics, consensus, or incrementalism, while the right emphasizes drama and symbolic disruption over substantive reform. Mamdani’s breakthrough demonstrates that meaningful change can come not from the loudest voice or the most theatrical promise, but from a disciplined, principled, and people-centered approach — even when the candidate comes from a minority background in a system historically dominated by majority elites. 

As an observer, one can’t help but notice a deeper tension. People longed for a Roosevelt, a Kennedy, or a Lyndon Johnson — leaders capable of translating popular aspirations into concrete policy. But in the age of Reagan’s “peace through strength,” where controversies were polished away and dissent often minimized, one might ask: has progressivism reached its limits? Has populism lost its rhetorical power, reduced to slogans and spectacle? 

Mamdani’s victory answers both questions. Progressivism is not exhausted; it thrives when it pairs ideals with strategy and substance. Populism remains potent, but only when rooted in opportunity rather than fear, engagement rather than resentment. Mamdani succeeded because he did not simply echo frustration; he listened, organized, and acted. 

This victory is not an endpoint. It is a crack in the ice of American political conformity. It reminds us that change is never smooth, but courage, principle, and attentiveness to the common good can shift the terrain. For progressives, the lesson is clear: engage the people, deliver results, and do not let optics or correctness dictate action. 

Mamdani’s win is both a symbol and a challenge. It asks whether American progressivism can reassert itself as a force for meaningful change — not through spectacle, but through persistent, principled engagement with the realities of everyday life. In an era dominated by media-driven politics and entrenched interests, his triumph is a reminder that real progress comes not from disruption alone, but from the courage to see, hear, and fight for the common 

108 Years Since the Great October Socialist Revolution: The Torch That Still Illuminates the Path of Humanity

108 Years Since the Great October Socialist Revolution: 

The Torch That Still Illuminates the Path of Humanity

Today marks the 108th anniversary of the Great October Socialist Revolution—a world-shaking event that forever changed the course of human history. On this day in 1917, under the leadership of the great Vladimir Ilyich Lenin and the Bolshevik Party, the working class of Russia rose in victorious struggle, overthrowing the bourgeois Provisional Government and establishing the world’s first state of workers and peasants. 

With the immortal slogan “Peace, Land, and Bread,” the Bolsheviks rallied millions of workers, soldiers, and peasants to take their destiny into their own hands. For the first time, an exploited class seized political power and began the construction of a new social order—free from oppression, exploitation, and imperialist domination. The triumph of October laid the foundation for the socialist transformation of society: the nationalization of industry, the redistribution of land to the tillers, and the establishment of equality and dignity for the laboring masses. 

As Lenin wrote in The State and Revolution: “The replacement of the bourgeois state by the proletarian state is impossible without a violent revolution. The abolition of the proletarian state, that is, of all states, is only possible through withering away.” 

The October Revolution did not merely change Russia—it transformed the entire world. From the first decree of Soviet power to the heroic defense of the socialist motherland against imperialist intervention, from the electrification of the country to the triumphs of Soviet science and space exploration, the path opened by Lenin and the Bolsheviks became the beacon for the oppressed and exploited across the globe. The formation of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics in 1922 signified not merely the consolidation of a state, but the triumph of a socialist community founded on the unity of peoples and the creative labor of millions. 

Lenin foresaw the world-historic importance of this victory when he declared in 1918: “We have begun the work. When, in what time-frame, the proletarians of other countries will complete it, it is not for us to know. But we are certain that they will complete it, and that socialism will triumph in all countries.” 

The words of Lenin — “Without revolutionary theory there can be no revolutionary movement” was also shown by Stalin's leadership, which turned his predecessor's teachings into practice. As Comrade Stalin taught: “The victory of socialism in our country means the victory of Leninism, the victory of the Leninist theory of proletarian revolution.” 

Such actions that brought inmense results has inspired anti-imperialist and liberation movements across Asia, Africa, and Latin America, awakening oppressed peoples to the possibility of a just and sovereign future. From the factories of Petrograd to the sugar fields of Cuba, from the plains of China to the jungles of Vietnam, the flame of October burned brightly, guiding generations of revolutionaries in their struggle against colonialism and exploitation. 

Even today, amid the crises of decaying capitalism, the teachings of Lenin and the legacy of the October Revolution retain their power and relevance. As inequality deepens and imperialist wars threaten humanity, the ideals of 1917—social justice, peace, and the supremacy of labor over capital—resonate ever more strongly among peoples of the world. 

However, it is expected that the defenders of the ruling order insist that the Great October Socialist Revolution was and is "a disruption" — a failed experiment whose ideals have supposedly been buried by the triumphs of capitalism. That by usinh words like "democracy" and "freedom" are all but hollow phrases meant to snare people from the realities of injustice. But one such attribute of diverting from the truth is how they point to the glittering wonders of the 21st century — its technology, its markets, its conveniences — as proof that the capitalist system has prevailed and that humanity has reached the height of progress. 

And yet beneath this polished façade, the same centuries-old structures of oppression and exploitation persist. The working masses continue to bear the weight of economic insecurity and social inequality. Technology, instead of liberating humankind, is often wielded as an instrument of surveillance, control, and dehumanization. Around the world, millions are denied stable housing and dignified employment; wages stagnate while profits soar; and the basic rights of labor are undermined in the name of efficiency and competition. 

As Lenin warned more than a century ago: “So long as there is capitalism, the working people live in slavery. The only way out of this is to fight against capitalism, to overthrow it.” His words ring with renewed force today. For all its technological sophistication and its promises of endless growth, capitalism continues to reproduce the very injustices the October Revolution sought to abolish. 

The ruling order would continue to insist that people accept this condition as “reality,” as if exploitation were a natural law. Yet no amount of propaganda or technological spectacle can conceal the truth: that the system remains built upon the subjugation of the many by the few. The continuing struggles of workers, the poor, and the marginalized testify that the spirit of resistance awakened in October 1917 has not been extinguished. 

The Great October Socialist Revolution remains not only a historical milestone but a living testament to the creative power of the working class and the unyielding march of history toward socialism.