First, an announcement: published poet and contributor Tao Yucheng would like to host and judge a poetry contest open to all readers of Synchronized Chaos Magazine.
Synchronized Chaos Poetry Contest
We seek short, powerful, imaginative, and strange poetry. While we welcome all forms of free verse and subject matter, we prefer concise work that makes an impact.
Guidelines: Submit up to five poems per person to taoyucheng921129@proton.me. Each poem should not exceed one page (ideally half a page or less). All styles and themes welcome.
Prizes: First Place: $50 Second Place: $10, payable via online transfer. One Honorable Mention. Selected finalists will be published in future issues of Synchronized Chaos
Now, for this month’s issue: The Stories We Tell Ourselves. We explore communication, relationships, myth, history, imagination – different ways of making meaning from life.
Dildora Abdullayeva considers the study of phrases as a part of human language and how phrases have changed over the years. Toychiyeva Madinaxon points out how young people are changing global language through Internet slang. Habibullayeva Lalyokhon Zarifjon kizi explores cultural and linguistic features of phrases in the Uzbek language. Rashidova Shohshanam speaks to the rapid changes in the Uzbek language and the challenges and opportunities that poses for educators. Noah Berlatsky reflects with humor on how our brains’ memory for language might shrink with modernity.
Dildora Qobilova suggests common student grammatical errors and ways to correct them in the classroom. Yarmamatova Sevinch Elyor qizi suggests ways to enhance young children’s speech fluency. Suyarova Gulsanam explicates finer points of Uzbek grammar for audiences speaking all languages. Abulqosimova Bahora highlights the intricacies of the phonetic system of the Uzbek language. Muqaddas Islomova highlights the role of multimedia digital technologies in helping language learners enhance their speech skills. Shamsiddinova Maftuna Hamidjon qizi gives an overview of academic studies into the structure and functions of different parts of speech. Adashaliyeva Durdona Akramjon qizi highlights the central role of linguistics in reinforcing the values of a socialist society. Rukhshona Kamolova Turayeva highlights the importance of studying the history and role of the English language to understanding effective communication. Sharifov Sirojiddin Shavkatovich underscores the critical importance of basic math literacy to social functioning. Satimboyeva Risolet outlines educational benefits of AI technologies in education.
Kucharov Bakhodir outlines principles of written and spoken professional communication. Dilnoza Bekmurodovna Navruzbekovna urges people to carefully consider what career would be right for them, and for schools to facilitate that deliberation. Aslidinova O’giloy highlights the potential of a digital economy and the need to prepare students for that world. Sarvar Eshpulatov also highlights the importance of digital literacy for success in today’s society. Niyozova Shakhnoza Farhod qizi elucidates the potential of digital technologies in education. Iroda Sobirova offers suggestions for fostering entrepreneurship in Central Asia and elsewhere. Choliyev Nurbek Rözimbek ogli highlights the importance of local banks in trusting in the creditworthiness of local entrepreneurs. Eshmurodova Sevinch Bahrom qizi outlines steps credit card bureaus can take to ensure consumer security. Urinova Robiyabonu discusses the use of psychology in professional management. Qarshiboyeva Mavluda Azizbek qizi analyzes the role of international assessment exams in world education. Abduvaliyeva Jasmina Jahongir qizi outlines some upsides and downsides of economic and cultural globalization.
Satimboyeva Rizolat discusses how to develop a social culture of reading and literary appreciation that goes beyond the classroom. Aziza Xasanova highlights the joy and creativity and history of the Uzbek mother tongue. Qudratova Nozima Bahromovna outlines the innovative narrative storytelling techniques of Uzbek author Tog’ay Murod.
Lakshmi Kant Mukul shares some of a people’s history of India through the lens of one architectural landmark, the Qutub Minar. Alan Catlin renders the historical, somnolent, stuck atmosphere of the American Rust Belt into poetry. Xudoyberdiyeva Mohiniso delves into the Islamic Turkish Kara-Khanid state, which reached its height in the 700s. Duane Vorhees traces a variety of Jewish mystical influences on Sigmund Freud. Chimezie Ihekuna relates how the modern Nigerian state came together as a result of colonial powers and bears little relation to cultural realities, causing a legacy of trouble. Jacques Fleury reviews Boston Lyric Stage’s production of a mashup of Sherlock Holmes and A Christmas Carol, providing two different lenses through which to interpret Victorian England. Qulliyeva Feruza Qosimova highlights the role of the Uzbek constitution in guiding contemporary society.
Mahbub Alam reflects with nostalgia on his high school days: friends, teachers, the school environment. Mesfakus Salahin revels in the wonder of childhood and memory. Sobirjonova Rayhona expresses gratitude to a dedicated teacher.
Olga Levadnaya speaks to the ‘halo effect’ of memory, where we remember the best parts of what happened to us. Dr. Jernail S. Anand considers his memories to be friends. Taghrid Bou Merhi holds onto the hazy and charming days of childhood and dreams. Mandy Diamantou Pistikou reminds us of the innocence and joyful curiosity of early childhood. Meanwhile, Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal speaks to the feelings, thoughts, and sensations of middle age.
Taro Hokkyo brings to life a moment of deep soul recognition among two different people. Turkan Ergor wonders at the vast diversity of people’s life experiences, given our common humanity. Dr. Kang Byeong-Cheol reminds us of the ingredients of love: wisdom, compassion, and humility. Mrinal Kanti Ghosh reflects on a love that captures his soul and disrupts his consciousness.
Mohan Maharana also writes of compassion, speaking of his work as a healer and social worker coming alongside people living with mental illness. Juana Del Carmen Soria urges people to make wise and caring choices. Asmonur Rajabboyeva, in a piece translated into English by Shuxratova Nilufar, draws on a chamomile flower as a symbol for innocence and compassion. Eva Petropoulou Lianou puts out an urgent call for global peace. Dianne Reeves Angel looks beyond the commercialism of Christmas to seek out spiritual gifts of peace and love and hope. Brajesh Kumar Gupta affirms that goodness is so much stronger than evil. Zuhra Jumanazarova highlights the critical role of the Uzbek constitution in the country’s governance and respect for internationally recognized human rights. Eva Petropoulou Lianou laments the violence and selfishness of humanity, in poetry translated into Mandarin by Yongbo Ma. Pat Doyne mocks corruption in the United States’ federal government. Bill Tope argues against gambling from a social justice perspective. Yongbo Ma also translates a poem from Ahmed Farooq Baidoon on the weary quest of all too many people for justice. Brendan Dawson sketches some of society’s outsiders – immigrants and poets – and reflects on how society has become less welcoming.
Sayani Mukherjee wishes an old lover well with their new love during the holidays, while still acknowledging her sorrow. Abdulhafiz Iduoze speaks to the cycle of life and death in her imagistic poem. Kemal Berk yearns for a lost loved one through verse. Aisha Al-Maharabi evokes the pain of loss and longing in love. Graciela Noemi Villaverde mourns the loss of her husband of many years through poetry. Abigail George renders cautious and loving care for her father with cancer into thoughtful and slow poetry. Farzaneh Dorri pays tribute to a departed human rights lawyer.
Mirta Liliana Ramirez grieves the loss of someone who suffered much and had a difficult life. Sumaiyya Alessmael mourns the passing of her immortal, fanciful beloved. Milana Momcilovic evokes centuries of timeless longing for a lost love. Salimeh Mousavi probes probes a family’s grief to create a complex and layered character sketch and to mourn for parts of individual personhood severed by culture.
Kavi Nielsen poetically expresses a sense of unity and connection with nature and their loved one. Shawn Schooley celebrates the sensual attraction he feels for his lover. Jamal Garougar speaks to the submergence of egos and unity with a broader whole inherent in love.
Petros Kyriakou Veloudas depicts love, grief, and memory feeding into the artistic process. Ana Elisa Medina encourages someone close to her to sing and share his heart’s journey. Kandy Fontaine reflects on how Motorhead frontman Lemmy inspired her artistically and personally.
Dianne Reeves Angel celebrates the joy of intentional female connection and friendship over many years. Priyanka Neogi reminds women and girls to remember their insight and strength. Amirah al-Wassif’s surreal poetry speaks to womanhood and our relationship with our bodies and minds.
J.J. Campbell shrugs and finds himself in a place of dull resignation, even at the holiday season, and renders his feelings into poems. Alan Hardy speaks to the vulnerability of being alone, whether in the wild or in his own mind, and how he protects himself by letting go of regret. Santiago Burdon depicts some misadventures along the road of guiding an emerging writer towards greater originality.
Mark Young expresses fascination with arbitrary liminality, how we attempt to classify the world. Duane Vorhees reflects on natural and human moments of energy and transition, such as thunderstorms, from a comfortable distance that lets him think and react with wonder.
We hope this issue brings wonder, new thoughts, and empathy to your life.
Lord Fredrick Lugard, the first colonial governor (1914-1918), amalgamated what was called the southern and northern protectorates to form the creation, the Flora Shaw’s named “Nigeria”, formerly the Royal Niger Company. The creation was valid for a hundred years (December 31 2014/January 1, 2015). Afterwards, the people who would be identified as Nigerians could decide to negotiate terms of their co-existence.
The major founding fathers of Nigeria, according to history, in the likes of Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe, Chief Obafemi Awolowo and Alhaji Tafawa Balewa and the rest were not adults at the time Nigeria was created. Dr Nnamdi Azikiwe was born in 1904. Chief Obafemi Awolowo was born in 1912 while Alhaji Tafawa Balewa was born 1910. Therefore, they had no business being the major founding fathers of Nigeria, contrary to the historical narrative. Of course, Nigeria was (and still is) a British creation. Interestingly, they did not express their belief in the efficacy of the geographically created entity. For instance, in 1948, Chief Obafemi Awolowo, asserted Nigeria as being not a country but a geographical location separated by artificial boundaries. In the same breath, Alhaji Tafawa Balewa stated that the people in Europe—Belgium, Holland, England—are similar in cultures than the Igbo, Hausa and Yoruba, which are the three major tribes. Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe, in 1964, who was paraded as the “Zik of Africa” and proponent of “One Nigeria”, stressed the need for Nigerians, four years after independence, to separate or go in pieces!
The major tribes have been existing for thousands of years before Nigeria was birthed. The DNA-based anthropological tests attest to this. It is a thing of concern most Nigerians today do not really know what the identities of their parents and or grand parents were, before October 1, 1960—the day Nigeria became a sovereign entity. Living former leaders such as General Yakubu Gowon (Retired), Chief Olusegun Obasanjo and Alhaji Abdul Salam Abubakar were born before Nigeria’s day of Independence which clearly identifies them as not “Nigerians”before independence. Who were they, then? That’s a question for another day!
From the inception of leadership of Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe (with Alhaji Tafawa Balewa being Prime Minister) to the current admission of Senator Bola Ahmed Tinubu, the bones of contention depicted over the years have been reflected in terms of tribalism, religion and ethnicity, all pointing at one thing; Nigerians have not been ONE people. From the deficits of the first coup in 1966, the subsequent Nigeria-Biafra Civil War (1967-1970), the incessant tribal clashes among the major tribes in the following years, the erupted religious crises of the 80s and 90s, even in the 2000s and documented ethnic conflicts to the aggravating economic hardships, particularly from the 90s till present, the marriage known as Nigeria was, for the sake of sanity, amongst the couple’s (the Yoruba, Igbo and Hausa tribes) long due for a divorce. Without a doubt, it has never worked out in the favour of the participating tribes—it is still not working! Yet, by some proxy-relates means, which apparently defeat the strength of comprehendible political, and socio-cultural rationale, Nigeria is still existing!
How can a people who are different in culture, economic and political dynamics be “forced” to co-exist forever? The friction had long been established since independence. The history-claimed founding fathers, representatives of their tribes, brings to attention their position on the British-created Nigeria. The realistic incompatibility among the tribes got worse in subsequent years. It is amazing how the major tribes—knowing they are better existing independently—still officially co-existing as Nigerians.
What the Nigerian entity has created were generations of men and women who would develop disdain for each other and depict bad demeanors in dealing with themselves, having being fed by questionable and tweaked historical narratives and orchestrated happenings. Hence, ushering leaders who would emerge and govern the people based on how they reflect themselves. After all, a good leader is a reflection of (gotten from) a good people and a bad leader is gotten from or shows how bad a people is.
The current president was quoted as saying “I don’t believe in One Nigeria” in 1997, in an interview granted to a newspaper daily. Like his predecessor, Chief Obafemi Awolowo, Nigerian sovereignty is a mirage. But for some political aggrandizement, he became sworn-in as the president of the Federal Republic of Nigeria on May 29, 2023!
The devalued Naira, the Nigerian currency, deserves attention. On January 1, 1973, one Naira was equivalent to one British Pound. At the time, the standard of living was said to be, compared to the presently harsh economy, high. General Yakubu Gowon (Retired), the then head of state, bragged about Nigeria being so rich that its problem was how to spend money! The de-valuing of the Naira, resulting from frivolous spending by the previous administration, began. The Shagari-led regime in the late 70s was tasked with the onus of devaluing the currency, before the overthrow by Retired Major Muhammadu Buhari, who would become head of state, then Retired General Ibrahim Babagida in 1985. The Naira’s declining value was witnessed through the years. What was of a greater value than the US Dollar before 1985 is now no match to.the CFA (currency used by West African countries) and Ghanian Cedis. The Naira is presently so valueless and the cost of living is unimaginably high for an average Nigerian to afford. The current exchange rate of the US Dollar to the Naira is:
$1 is equivalent to 1610 Naira.
The high cost of living, partly resulting from the devalued Naira, projected to get worse in subsequent years, is sufficient to rationalize critically the Nigerian posterity, hundred years after its creation.
The cultural diversity, religious, socio-cultural and political differences have saliently ascertained the “oneness”, known as Nigeria, is a complete shadow of itself, when and if realistically evaluated. It becomes pertinent to recognize Nigeria’s existence, a century later, would better be history, or better yet, as the title, “There Was A Country” by the late novelist, Chinua Achebe, reads, than a living entity existing today. After a hundred years. Her existence points at this: “Divided we stand, United we fall!”
When nature’s patience is tested beyond the tolerance level, the cosmic forces burst upon humanity in vengeance. The divine forces which love peace, are not known to forgive their betrayers. -Anand
The cosmos is governed by harmony and order, while the human world is characterized by chaos. As soon as a man is born, it is like a bubble which is created by trapping wind in the thin layers of water, and so long as it stays on the body of the water, it causes ripples and disruptions, and finally loses itself to the flowing waters. Thus, the essential feature of the cosmos is harmony and human beings and their passions create ripples and cause disturbance in this reign of peace.
Harmony, the Essential Feature
There is something which likes harmony, peace, and flow and this ‘something’ does not like disruption. There are men, who by their very nature, believe in the cosmic flow. But there are men who have the audacity to prick the cosmic forces with their smartness and annoy nature’s wisdom. All the overtures of man which conflict with nature are judged on merit. This process takes time and it is during this period that men who violate harmony think that, as there is no one to cry foul, there is nothing wrong in it.
The Calculated Dog-Bark
In fact, to understand the nature of cosmic forces, let us take the example of a dog who is lying in its trance on the road. If you are passing by like a gentleman, it will ignore your presence. But if you try to assume some airs, and pass causing unnecessary disruptions and speaking loudly, the dog may take offence at your inordinate actions which disturb his peace. It will issue a calculated bark. But if he finds you are consistent in your non-sensical behaviour, and do not walk like a natural human being, the bark would become a bit shrill and fierce too. That is why there is a proverb: let sleeping dogs lie.
Now apply this logic to the cosmic forces. They are busy in their daily spin. Everything is at the right angle. If there are disruptions, it is only because men create a mess. There are no natural disasters. Every disaster has a human connection. Tempests, earthquakes, whirlwinds, storms, cloudbursts – there are natural activities, but nature is peace loving, not quarrelsome by nature. When nature’s patience is tested beyond the tolerance level, the cosmic forces burst upon humanity in vengeance.
The Dynamics of Peaceful Living
Peace is the result of leading a life which is based on faith in the cosmic wisdom. Men work hard to earn their livelihood without flirting with nature’s order. But men are ancestored by apes, and they believe in smartness, which is not to the liking of cosmic forces. All those who assert their selfish wisdom come to grief. This world is full of people who go on playing foul with nature’s rhythm, and keep building fortunes. But nature quietly registers their pranks, and in time brings them down. The divine forces which love peace, are not known to forgive their betrayers. The pain and suffering that we see in the world is the result of men trying to wage a war with nature’s order, trying to get more than is permitted, finally coming to grief. They are all over-reachers who do not believe patience, and disrupt the cosmic flow.
Everything evolves in time. But those who forced the cart in a particular direction have caused bloodshed on this earth. Gods know in which direction they want to take men. And it is best to attune ourselves to the rhythm of nature and live accordingly. The first thing is to click the ‘forget’ button. And then to unlearn what we have learnt so far and return to that pristine stage of innocence – this is what gods want and this is what we resist so powerfully, leading to pain and suffering in life and the punishment which is waiting for us, in this very world, when we over-reach ourselves.
Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, with an opus of 180 plus books, is Laureate of the Seneca, Charter of Morava, Franz Kafka and Maxim Gorky awards. His name adorns the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. Anand is a towering literary figure whose work embodies a rare fusion of creativity, intellect, and moral vision. He is not only lone of the most influential voices in contemporary Indian poetry, but a global voice, challenging readers to confront the complexities of existence while offering hope through art and ethics.
A carnival barker is trying to convince me that, for a modest sum, I could enter the mind of another person and retain all of his or her thoughts, dreams, emotions, and memories. While it was a tempting idea, I thought it would be horrible if that worked both ways. What if that person retained the essence of me while I was poaching the essence of them?
I looked around the fair and wondered when it had become something like Ringling Brothers, Barnum, and Bailey in a Kafka story like the prelude to Amerika or The Starving Artis? I heard lions roaring inside circus tents and saw elephants hanging out by a peanut gallery where a puppeteer was doing Punch and Judy shows with masked figures who strongly resembled Celebrity Death Match Claymation characters modeled after current politicians. I asked the barker who was now dressed up in a clown costume, whether I could choose whose mind I could borrow for the evening and he said, ”Sure, but that costs extra.” I was afraid to ask how much but he must have peered into his crystal ball and assured me that there were several convenient payment options, layaway plans, credit card loans and even an extended pay option that sounded like a 30-year mortgage with low financing that was a limited time offer. All I had to do was sign here and we’ll go to town. I have a pin for the blood-letting you’ll need to sign the oath. “Don’t worry, “ he assured me, “it only hurts for a little while, then you just get used to it.”
Lunch with Charlie: an Anxiety Dream Poem
All the buildings look like turn-of-the-last-century Utica brownstones but I think we are actually, in Albany. I’m trying to get downtown on foot but somehow find myself on a bus that takes the wrong fork off the main road into a different city that looks like Utica but could be Schenectady. I pull the overhead stop wire that signals the driver to stop but he doesn’t and the wire snaps. The driver arbitrarily, abruptly stops, stands up, and says, “Last stop everyone out.” And he forces all of us out into the middle of nowhere. Luckily my old boss is driving by in his vintage Caddy, picks me up and suggested we stop for lunch at Hymie’s Pork Shop in Troy which is always the next stop after Nowhere on the bus line. Then I’m sitting at a table with a movie star and some local political movers and shakers all of whom are friends of my boss who seems to have disappeared. The star turns out to be Charlie Sheen and he has a bandage on his right cheek that covers a wound from one of his old movies. Charlie is affable and funny and I feel very comfortable with him all throughout an extremely long lunch and after. Later, in the Caddy, I tell my boss about the great time I had at lunch with Charlie and he says, “You were lucky. He can turn on you like that.” And he snaps his fingers. I ask him where we are going now and he says, “Downtown.” But I’m afraid to ask him in what city.
Dream Lottery Anxiety Poem
This is what it must feel like to win the dream lottery, I thought. All I had to do was give the patron’s pet turtle his daily walk, on a leash, and I could collect an all expenses paid overnight trip to London for a first run new play at The Savoy.
Once I had hooked the turtle up On his leash and we began our walk I could see this was going to be much more difficult than I originally thought.
Then I’m in London, outside the theater, after the overnight, unable to sleep on the flight trip, plus the half hour commuter train ride from Gatwick into town and several tube stops, I’m so tired I wonder if I can stay awake through the first of nine acts, play.
Then I’m on a different sidewalk outside Proctor’s theater in Schenectady with Neil the tavern scammer, and he has a cardboard box of rare baseball cards he borrowed from a six-year-old kid playing nearby and he’s telling me we could sell the cards at Finnigan’s and split the money 50/50 which meant I would sell the cards because no one in their right mind would buy a collectible from Neil. All I had to do was keep the kid occupied long enough for the cards to be appraised but the kid runs out into the street and is hit by a car and Neil is gone. All I had to do now was get the box of cards up six floors of a brick building which meant finger climbing a vertical wall in a trash infested alley to the window where Neil was yelling down at me, “Make sure you don’t drop the cards.” And somehow, I make it most of the way up, one-handed, and Neil says, “Let me take those for safe keeping.” And then I’m in the street holding the bloody kid to my chest and the cards are ruined, strewn all around, covered in blood and a child’s scrawl in magic marker and I’m hoping that the ambulance comes in time for the first act.
Under Construction Anxiety Dream
I’m at the Busy Corner that no longer exists, window shopping at the Boston Store that got torn down years ago and I’m looking for custom, handmade t-shirts for heavy metal bands that would never come to the Utica War Memorial venue for love nor money and then I’m walking down Genessee Street looking for an address on streets that were removed during urban renewal in the 60’s to build the-around-the-city arterial and I decide to see if the red brick colossus of Genessee Street apartment building we lived in when we were first married is still there. And it is, in all its unique weird glory and I remember watching random parades for stuff that was neither a holiday nor explicable as worthy of mention in any other place in the world except for Utica, from a Juliet balcony you could step out on but not with your full weight on unless you were feeling suicidal. And I remember how living there was like being on set of Rosemary’s Baby with your pregnant wife wondering how they rippled those ceilings, why there were windows facing an air shaft whose only purpose was to see how much garbage could accumulate down there before the rats took over and why walking down the loose marble tile floor felt like a trip to the gallows following a slow, creaking elevator ride to get there. Then I am outside again walking but none of the streets, houses, buildings look familiar and all the Dutch Elm trees are back and a hundred feet tall and weaving about in the gusting wind like something out of The Shining, the novel, and I feel like I escaped from something into something worse though the people I’m with on the parade float seem nice and I ask, “What is the parade for?” But no one seems to know but The Shriner who seems to be leading the procession points to a construction site where the pavement saws are dismantling the sidewalks, the streets, the open-air shopping center, where they are going to put the Under Construction signs that seem to be everywhere but nothing actually seems to be doing anything but Coming Soon. This seven foot guy in a fez says to me, “We thought you’d never get here. Hold this.” And hands me a sparking, taped-together bunch of what looks like dynamite sticks and turns to run. “Oh,” he says before he leaves, “you might need this.” and he hands me a yellow reflective vest and a hard hat. Says something about ducking and covering but I am way beyond ducking and covering now.
This morning is weary, exhausted by squatting on the platform of waiting.
In vain it searches for the secret of absence, and rummages in the ambiguity of words, asking the letters: Who assassinates the glimmer of longing, Who tears the bond of promise from the calendar of the exciting night? For the evening is now weary, No stars, No moon, No love, No dreams! Everyone gasps for breath in the void, And the void follows the void, Grabbing its jaws wide, Devouring hopes and joy! The question remains tormented, Lamenting at the end of the question: Does love rust? And how do the flowers of reunion die?! And why does distance sprout leaves On the branches of absence? Nothing is clear here, Except my crucified question, In the pain of lips: (Whyyyyyyyyyyyy)??!!
Poet/ Aisha Al-Maharabi Aden City Republic of Yemen Bachelor of Philosophy, University of Aden Married and a mother Worked in the field of teaching Participated in several Arab festivals in Egypt, Tunisia, Algeria, and Jordan Hobbies: Reading and writing in the field of poetry and literature My works have been published in several Arab and foreign newspapers, and I have had several press and radio interviews. – My poetry collection, “Master of the Evening,” was published in 2013 by the University Publishing House, Yemen. – “And the Daisy Breathed” was published in 2014 by Khalid Ibn Al-Walid Publishing House. – “How to Tame Longing” was published in 2014 by Al-Jeel Al-Jadeed Publishing House. – “Stuck Behind the Eyelids of the Homeland” was published in 2017 by Fikra Publishing House. – “Peace Be Upon You, Dawn” was published by Abrar Publishing House in 2019. – “And Madness Has Its Meaning” was published by the Poets on the Window of the World Foundation for Culture and Creativity in 2023.
