Murodova Muslima Kadyrovna was born on June 29, 2010 in Jondar district of Bukhara region. Currently, she is a 7th grade student of school No. 30 in this district. Her first book of poetry was published in 2024 under the name “Come beautiful spring”. Winner of many achievements. She won the 2nd place at the festival held in the district. She won the 1st place in the district stage and the 2nd place in the regional stage of the “Bakhtim Shul: Zulfiyasiman Uzbek” contest. Her first anthology was published by the UK publisher Justfiction Edition. Founder of “Muslima’s” blog. A young teacher who was able to develop about 250 artists. Owner of more than 50 international certificates.
First, here’s an announcement from contributor Frank Blackbourn, who asked us to share in our publication:
I hope this message finds you well. I’m reaching out on behalf of a woman in our community who urgently needs support to avoid eviction. She is a neurodivergent artist and mother who started a small Etsy shop to support her family by selling unique items that promote acceptance for the LGBTQ+ and ADHD communities.
Right now, she faces a critical challenge. Her only means of transportation—a van she relies on for her business and income—broke down, requiring $1,700 in repairs to fix both the suspension and antilock system. Without this van, she can’t attend events, make deliveries, or earn enough income to cover mounting bills. Every day the van sits unrepaired, her financial situation worsens, bringing her closer to eviction.
The impact of this breakdown has been devastating, and she now faces the immediate threat of losing her home if she can’t get back to work soon. By supporting her GoFundMe, you’re helping her cover these essential repairs, restoring her ability to work and allowing her to keep her family safe and housed.
Now, for this month’s issue, the Thin Fabric of Time. Many cultures mark a time to remember ancestors or deceased loved ones this time of year, believing the veil between life and death was thinnest at this time. Modern physics draws on fabric as a metaphor for space and time as fundamental dimensions of the universe.
This issue’s contributors address cultural memory, family heritage, grief, life and death, and the different generations.
Federico Wardal describes a new museum of antique relics that will open up in Egypt.
Jeff Tobin evokes our inextricable human connection to the past and to personal and cultural memory. Terry Trowbridge recollects the strong and competent women of past Saturday morning cartoons while lamenting his own human weaknesses.
John Grey speaks to our human powerlessness in the face of our own natures as well as the external world. Yet, despite this, we can still believe we are the centers of our own universes.
Xavier Womack’s poetry advises a person to heal the generational wound of not loving oneself. Rubina Anis shares her paintings of women of varying ages standing together.
Dilnura Kurolova celebrates the treasure of friendship. Azemina Krehic draws on contradictions as a metaphor for the irrational beauty of romantic love. Mahbub Alam expresses how love can create its own likeness to heaven here on Earth. Stephen Jarrell Williams shares a simple but elegant poem on spiritual and divine love. Closer to Earth, Noah Berlatsky waxes clever about a clumsy but perfect love.
Duane Vorhees presents near-operatic musical and poetic images of sensuality as Eric Mohrman gasps out miniature vignettes of romantic tension.
Janet McCann reviews Chuck Taylor’s new collection Fever, observing not just the sensuality of the work, but the many restrictions and ‘prisons’ in which the mostly male narrators find themselves and what that says about modern masculinity and men in love.
Philip Butera uses an unfinished painting as a metaphor for a fleeting love affair, highlighting the tragedy but also the inevitability of its bittersweet ending. Taylor Dibbert’s poetic speaker once again sets off on a jet plane after a harsh divorce.
Ozodbek Narzullayev reflects on a passing school year with nostalgia and wishes to stay in touch with classmates. Sevinch Shukurova outlines various types of sentence construction. Z.I. Mahmud churns Indian and Anglo-Saxon cultural iconography together in a cauldron of speculative fiction that ends in effusive praise of Shakespeare.
Maftuna Yusupboyeva celebrates the literary contributions of Karakalpak Uzbek poet Berdak and his place within Uzbek folk and working people’s culture. Marjonabonu Xushvaqtova rejoices in her love for books and reading. Aymatova Aziza celebrates the cultural treasures found within libraries.
Yolgoshova Sevinch offers her love and praise for her native Uzbekistan as she would to her parents.
Marvelous Monday expresses a cultural group’s proud resilience despite poverty and injustice. Komron Mirza laments social and moral decline around him, yet resolves that the world is not yet ending. Rasheed Olayemi Nojeem laments corruption in his country’s judicial system while Jake Cosmos Aller decries the cultural ugliness of hate and authoritarianism. Christopher Bernard highlights the difficulty of choosing among political leaders with imperfect agendas and ideas.
Faleeha Hassan’s short story highlights the strength of a couple keeping their dignity under grinding poverty. Howard Debs’ poem comments on the reality of food service and on those who see the work as a game or a photo-op.
Dr. Jernail S. Anand reminds us that poets and cultural creators are as human as the rest of us, and urges people to be strong yet flexible, like water.
Giulia Mozzati-Zacco captures the scattered thoughts of a young woman nearing her death.
Mark Young conveys moments when the surreal enters our ordinary physical world. Maurizio Brancaleoni highlights humorous moments of life surrounding Halloween/Day of the Dead.
Patrick Sweeney proffers glimpses of the world and culture through sentence fragments. Texas Fontanella plays with words and syntax to craft prose. Saad Ali pairs original haiku with lesser-known historical paintings.
Later, Texas Fontanella plays with verbiage and syntax through disjointed text messages. J.D. Nelson highlights tiny bits of urban and wild life during fall. Rachel Bianca Barbeito crafts tender portraits of gentle puppies.
Turgunov Jonpolat outlines his volunteer work in climate ecology, made possible through an international educational collaboration. Muhammadjonova Farangizbegim Ma’mirjan discusses technology and gamification as ways to effectively teach the natural sciences, including ecology. Anna Keiko writes of psychological and ecological dreamtime and awakenings and the need to protect the environment.
Sayani Mukherjee recollects a languid and happy day in a small country village. Wazed Abdullah praises the steady presence of the stars. Maxliyo Axmatova reflects on the warmth, growth, and renewal brought by the sun.
Ahmad Al-Khatat speaks to the memories that live on in the minds of exiles from war, even on bright calm sunny days. Azemina Krehic reflects on the human cost of war and other violence to Bosnian women and girls.
Maja Milojkovic shares her hopes for peace among the world’s nations and peoples. Eva Petropolou Lianou speaks to our universal human desire and need for love and mercy. Mesfakus Salahin describes the spiritual and human unity made possible through universal love.
Abigail George grieves over the loss of life in Palestine. Iduoze Abdulhafiz’ prose evokes the human trauma unfolding in Gaza. Jacques Fleury reviews Duane Vorhees’ poetry collection Between Holocausts, which grapples with that vast historical trauma. Daniel De Culla laments the grotesque tragedy of war on this Day of the Dead. Alexander Kabishev evokes the gross devastation of war through a tale of the death of a zoo elephant in Leningrad. Nuraini Mohammad Usman uses onomatopoeia to render digestion into poetry while urging world peace: making dinner, not war.
Ivan Pozzoni evokes the dark history among the beauty of his home Italian island. Alan Catlin describes varying levels of grief underlying a peaceful and beautiful place. Tuyet Van Do laments the human tragedies caused by recent hurricanes in the southeastern U.S.
Anindya Paul harshly evokes the loss of innocence in his poetry. Rukhshona Toxirova outlines ways for physicians to show compassion for patients at a tender age.
Isabel Gomez de Diego crafts images of childhood: a visit to a maritime park, a family photo with a young brother, dressing up for Halloween. Kylian Cubilla Gomez presents photographic scenes of nurturance: squash cultivated in a garden, children’s toys, Russian nesting dolls.
Stephen House grieves over and remembers his deceased mother. Graciela Noemi Villaverde grieves for the loss of her mother’s gentle spirit. Lan Qyqualla draws on a variety of ancient Western myths to lament the loss of his wife.
Nurullayeva Mashhura’s tragic tale of a neglected grandmother reminds us to care for our elders. Rahmiddinova Mushtariy offers praise for the nurturance and teaching of her father. Ilhomova Mohichehra comes to realize how much she values and respects her father as she grows more mature.
Michael Robinson recollects the loving fatherhood he has found from God in a piece describing his Christian salvation and personal journey from wanting to die to having a fresh new life.
Fhen M. crafts a vignette on a comfortable porch, a liminal space between the interior and exterior, inspired by change and transition.
Brian Barbeito speaks to the poetic and mystical meanings he finds embedded in each season, with wisdom in autumn and winter.
Chloe Schoenfeld captures the aftermath of a festive event, the small chaos after the elegance. Seasons change and time passes for us all, and no “mountaintop experience” can last forever.
Jacques Fleury shares wisdom from a teen dying of cancer to motivate us to live with passion and joy. Mashhura Ahmadjonova reflects on the whirlwind passage of time.
Mykyta Ryzhykh depicts a ghostly ship where all the mariners have turned skeletal, forgotten even by history. David Sapp also comments on our mortality and how others will eventually lose our memories in the swirling fog of time.
Before that happens, please take some time to savor this issue of Synchronized Chaos and honor each of the contributors by letting their voices be heard.
The same motherland that shaped me now seeks to break me, A stranger hut where familiarity’s a distant memory. Every step feels like a betrayal, choking my breath, A reality that suffocates, leaving me gasping for air. But we’re survivors, weathering hunger’s biting pangs, Enduring bullets born of insecurity’s sting. We stand tall, proud in our composure, United in love for our country, despite its flaws. My skin, richly pigmented, tells ancestors’ stories, Resilience and triumphs are etched in every glory. Like my father before and mother now, We, the younger generation, face adversity with courage. Though aspirations are restricted, dreams flourish hidden, Wildflowers blooming secretly, unrelenting. Rise, fellow countrymen, weary but united we stand, Determined to reach great heights, despite soaring challenges. Our fuel may be scarce, but perseverance is plentiful, Our spirit is unbroken, like wildflowers that bloom. Let us rise, and in our diversity, find strength, For a brighter future, where dreams are free to length.
Marvelous Monday is a passionate writer with a published credit in Written Tales Magazine. His work explores themes of identity, resilience, and social justice.
Im poorly, here purely to supermax lit af pieces of dream boat first in class analysis. And so, this blustery but warm morning, wanting summat more dead, more despotically modern than Ginia Woolfy, i picked up
From my bookshelf, Luke Beesley’s Jam Sticky Visions. I didnt like it at the time i got it, but it met the criteria: prose poems. But it just seemed to glitch on the train thought he was real clever when not. For most, tho, thats just what, thats all poetry is. Pose poems.
Its not to this’n. But if it was, well, his pieces arent good enough for my reply. Beesley’s collection meets the bin back at home, a brown paper Woolworths bag you out of ideas welcome homeland security. And then, i bellyflop that trash onto the stale, malodorous front yard-birds-pecking-through-it dumpster like a babushka against a big, bad bag snatcher. To put a lid on it
Life is too shot – big bang, ‘member? – out the canon to fuck around with global village idiot, middle class pretensions who cant match magnifying glass flints. Stones have better ideals than the fish that pass degrees for and about poets here, their tree. Sun up, sun down voted, they did, for their mess escape to Plato’s outermost caves. Not thermonuclear to them yet over lap it up tick exiled you bygones can each buy a gun safe houses the generic in form elation of the errorist cellular phone it in to my hallowed lover hands it to the red hot LED scope aimed at my chest rattles and cuff links expired here to fore ground like yr ilks circuit elephants run, run, run, run, run, take a dragon, too. Run, run, run, run, run, Gypsy death and – who?
So sLane it herds m’dear widdershins in to con sitter up grate to the verse cloud gathering like a gathering in formation dawn be Lowes haul my cheese deportment of tome travellers form a hoSPITal orderly racing to morn (!) our own Deaths wade like tables off in to the doowopping end ear ring night mayor of this new town square circle the Bast answers back to your no future
*
a neutron star let out its steam roller blind ed by your head light up a joint venture capital city gone to the doggerels of raw shucks
*
Get down stars spin around my hood lights up like mention of a crush garlic to keep the stoker doesnt seam to be any weigh here the bats the baller is knocked up to date the titanic sank out of bounds along the rolex watch tower attack gundagai slimmin’ on dust stacks cant afford the opportunity cost price of winning art disses my pure blood whine of the month this combing harvest cow and
moon you
[Ps cow and moon is a famous ice cream place in sydneys iner west]
*
Get out of my way, or no way at all. Selling sunny days, surreal estate, are you? His face jiggles like a constellation in the wind
ow, a mouth where the fireplace should be, tongue lolling out like an animal onto the floorboards, which are, by the looks of it, solid timber
pine gap.. wtf am i doing back here, your queen dragging this insipid spectacle, this treasure chest of our society behind us, its constant hacking cough
syrup me only d rink g rip tape?
*
even doors stick to the souls of my chews a quiet residential area 51 of then again I saw the planet coming apart at the sentence them to knife in prism effect the Hollywood end launch your self sacrifice Alice to the dragging on a joint venture capitalism is good shit hole in my shoes flutter as I stroke your facebook gives me a psychic shucks
*
I shoot straight as bam boo yr dead head has its lid taken off a coco nut empty as the bar rel of a border disp ute swerves up dust once we’re still the most realpolitik
TOC.. Pluto will wanna gain cointreau of this terminal illness. Our expedition need return like a king to the exposition. In the meantime, en joy ride a Grif ter’s in fern al pil sen er
in the heavy rhythm that knocks at the gate of history
time dissipates darkness, the dawn breaks
fragments of memories unite into one image
portraying the people from thousands of years ago
they had never seen before
the soul rising from the ruins
lightning stimulates the sleep hormone
the words sprout from the roots of the trees
the branches raise their eyes to the sky
the tears from above soothe the dry throat
insomnia brings about disorder
sleepwalk spreads like clouds
on the edge, people seek faith,
the swan isolates, the sea roars.
the wheel of time loses direction
fierce winds swirl the calm waves
the dark flow of purple rain floods the newly sprouted flowers
the dike is no longer on the shore
the sea is no longer in the sea
the pleasures of life create wings of light
lush branches and leaves grow from rotten logs
postmodernism indicates a bright period
the white sheet inscribed with yellow and red symbols
like barren lands sprinkled with saliva and salt
millennial expressions permeate ink and paper
the profound words awake from the drawers on the walls
the eyes in the tombs frightfully stare
the trembling hand reaches into the library in the afternoon sun
dusk and dawn go on
Profound words asleep
(Unsolved)
the sea removes its veil
mountain ridges create new settlements
humanity is torn apart
the celestial vault is unclear
creation and destruction became fine arts
when humans evolved, the Ice Age was forgotten
people’s desires are infinitely greater
faith and contradiction are overlapping
only the poet’s soul sees the tree flowers
my nostrils perceive the smell of old books.
morning glow covered by clouds and fog
alien guests appear in the magical sky
brains exterminating amongst each other
religion is not a true spiritual devotion
monks’ love affairs give birth to children
Buddhist nuns give birth in misery
nature undergoes a destruction process
discoveries accelerate people’s panic
but you keep your faith that death
brings rebirth,
a bird looking for the forest
June 23, 2017
Profound words asleep
Reading
the scent of ink passes from hand to heart
burning desire stimulates the senses
veins beat inside the rolled sleeves
the solution to this state is like a dream wind that smacks the flesh
I hope that fireflies jump into written words
meditating, we travel through the cosmos
an ark heading to infinity
when the morning light removes the veil
the world shows its true face
hidden dreams pass through the time tunnel
directed to the hut of steel and cement
they run back and forth through the underground
at the spring in the forest, the bone whistle whispers
my dream lifts the billows
Utopia
Foreword: If people continue to destroy the environment,
what will happen to the Earth?
the world evolves continuously, even before our era
the monkey thinks of the empty forest
the sky protests crying
his tears roll down to the ground
making the savages appear
the sun like a magic mirror,
mercury – destructive ultraviolet rays
the constellation is no longer fascinating
it sinks into the sea
the air blooms, the waters rise muttering,
ants dance inside the shells
animals discuss livelihoods
the dinosaur and the elephant sweat working in agriculture
the lion and the tiger are eager to get married and have offspring
the leaves of the trees are like the palms of the sky
butterflies and dragonflies cannot be seen under the sun
thick smoke floats above the clouds
the mountain range is like an infinite fence
we were born in the air
hands raised to the olive tree, interpret the verses of the oracle
the beast is banished to slavery
trees abound in fruits
birds and insects take care of the harvest
stones discuss how to rewrite history
the fish are guarding the corrupt officials
rain and dew create eternal life
the Earth gave life to the Earth.
Rivers
desire – a river
springing from the blood of our ancestors
civilized and primitive behaviors interchange
war, murder, and redemption
genetic mutation
in the Neolithic,
stone and fire offered wisdom
most people lived like puppets
nobody knows if there was a god
men and women crossed the rivers of the high mountains
driven by the flames of desire
their union gave birth to the seas and the land.
March 16, 2017
Anna Keiko (original name: Wang Xianglian) is an internationally renowned poet, writer, editor and painter living in Shanghai. Graduated from East China University of Political Science and Law. The founder, President and editor-in-chief of ACC Shanghai Huifen International Literary Association, the World Poetry promoter, the International Peace Ambassador Outstanding Contribution Award winner. Chinese young literary director. Her poems have been translated into more than 30 languages and published more than 2,000 in more than 500 newspapers and magazines in more than 50 countries. Published 11 books of poetry, (waiting for the bus) poems by the famous composer Tu Bahai into songs. She has been invited to participate in international poetry festivals in more than a dozen countries, Yale University invited her to participate in the International Poetry Symposium for three consecutive years, and Salem University invited her as an international poet’s personal poetry seminar program. She has won 33 International poetry prizes and was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2020.
