DONNA, OLTRE L’INDICAZIONE DEL CORPO

Occhi come lago/ Labbra scarlatte come corallo/ Capelli ricci e sinuosi

Attragono in tutte le quattro direzioni

Questi sono labirinti

Il viso e il fascino fisico sono delle tende, in vero

Un’arma per tenerti lontano dalla dimora desiderata

Una vera donna vive altrove

Oltre l’indicazione del suo corpo

Seduta accovacciata come una reclusa

Proprio come una cosa astratta

Come un sogno di nuvole bianche di neve

A volte, simile alla notte  senza la luna

Fulmini dormienti, pieni della loro potenza

È necessaria una meditazione estremamente dura

Per aprire gli strati più profondi del suo cuore,

L’amore è considerato la vera perla di una donna

Questo può essere scoperto procedendo oltre il suo corpo

Altrimenti, nulla giace nel vortice del corpo 

L’uomo vuole sopraffare

Il corpo urlante di una donna

Ma il corpo è una duna di sabbia/ una fiera di desideri

C’è solo miraggio e poi miraggio

La donna è solita nascondersi, 

Da qualche parte nel suo io interiore,

invece di essere trovata nel suo corpo manifesto

che è come il centro epico di un vulcano attivo

un uomo per tutta la sua vita

corre sempre dietro a volti affascinanti

come quegli uomini idioti

che sulla superficie dell’acqua

spesso fissano le onde che s’immergono e galleggiano

con i loro occhi curiosi

giocano tutto il giorno con le conchiglie  delle spiagge

forse non sanno

che le vere perle si trovano inutilmente

nelle profondità di un mare,

dove il respiro non sostiene molto i subacquei

per raggiungere perle così sconosciute nelle profondità del mare

bisogna aspettare che le valve della conchiglia si aprano

per arrivare all’essenza originale di una donna

dovrai alzare la cortina del volto ingannevole

dovrai scendere

nella stanza nascosta del suo cuore

dovrai bussare e bussare ancora

alla finestra ermeticamente chiusa della sua anima

una donna non è un  un oggetto di lusso

non una merce di compra-vendita

Nemmeno un corpo fatto solo di carne e ossa

Il vero nome di una donna è ——

Amore, amore e solo amore!

Translation in Italian by the esteemed poetess from Italy Hon’ble Maria Miraglia 

Original poem in English by Dr. Perwaiz Shaharyar, Editor, NCERT, New Delhi, India 

WOMAN, BEYOND THE INDEX OF BODY

Lake like eyes/ Scarlet coral-like lips/ Curly-curvy hairs

Attraction all four directions

These are mazes 

Face and physical charms are curtains, indeed

A weapon to keep off you from the desired abode

A true woman lives in somewhere else

Beyond the index of her body

Sitting crouch like a recluse 

Just like an abstract thing

Like a dream of snow-white clouds

Sometimes, similar to the moonless dark night

Dormant lightning, full of its potency

Extremely tough meditation is needed

To open her inner layers of heart,

Love is considered to be the genuine pearl of a woman

This can be discovered by proceeding beyond her body

Otherwise, nothing lies in the whirlpool of body

Man wants to overpower

The screaming body of a woman

But the body is a dune of sands/ a fair of desires

There is only mirage and mirage

Women used to be hidden, 

Somewhere in her inner self,

Instead of, being found in her apparent body

Which is like an epic center of a live volcano

A man in his entire life

Used to run after fascinating faces

Like those idiot men

Who is on the surface of the water 

Often, stare at diving and floating waves 

With their curious eyes

Use to play, the whole day, with shells lying on beaches

Perhaps, they do not know 

That the true pearls are senselessly lying 

In the depth of a sea, 

Where the breathes not much support the divers 

To achieve such unknown pearls in the deep sea

Needed to wait till the lips of the shell get opened 

To get the original element of a woman

You will have to raise the curtain of deceitful face

You will have to step down 

Into the concealed room of her heart

You will have to knock and knock again 

At the tightly closed window of her soul

A woman is not a thing of luxury

Not a commodity of marketing

Not even a body of only bone and flesh

The true name of a woman is —— 

Love, love, and only love! 

The Barren Lands Of My Heart

She sat on a greenish boulder beside a lake beneath a maple tree. Her soft little hands were trembling with the weight of the letter she was holding, a letter of goodbye from someone who once used to sit next to her on this same boulder. They used to compete on who could throw rocks farthest into the lake. In her mind, she was lost in a typhoon on a wrecked ship with no signs of shore.” Tears kept running down her eyes from her cheeks to her chin, later turning into white shiny pearls dropping  on the letter, blurring the words:

“My love, you are the sole beacon of fire, Fervor of my life, Elixir of my soul’s Obscurity. I forget how to breathe in your absence, I’m just a body whose soul is entrapped within yours. Each night I spend in this dugout staring at the stars, the brightest of them reminds me of you. The cold dazzling wind in my ear whispers your name. I close my eyes and see you in my arms, as if Vega itself has landed on Earth. Sometimes fire shells land near my dugout. Every day feels as if it’s going to be my last. It does not unnerve me, for love of my soil steels my heart.”

“It ignites a fire of passion in me, laying down my life for my country, so that I can honor the oath to which this uniform bound me. And the thoughts of me returning to you bloom a garden of daisies in the barren lands of my heart. If death finds me,  when we are apart, I promise you to accompany you as a sheltering maple tree beside the lake where we sit, play and laugh. As a full moon brightening your darkness, as night jasmine blossoming a fragrance around you, as the rainbow that comes after rain. As the spring that comes after the autumn, and as a melody of love that adds rhythm to your a capella. If Death takes me away from you, I shall return to you as my letters of love to you, and if my corpse is placed in front of you, just know I’m standing right beside you, grasping your shoulder, holding you close to me, and like a brave lady, accept my keepsakes of valor with a smile.”

Amidst the typhoon on the wrecked ship, she was moving towards shore, but suddenly someone called her name. The shore disappeared, she began to drown. She screamed, struggled to reach the surface, but it was no help. She fell deeper and deeper, but it wasn’t merely a physical ocean, it was the oceans of her sorrow,  which engulfed her and her world, bit by bit.

“Amber, Amber! The ambulance is here!” said her childhood friend Anne. Anne paused, looking at the ambulance. “He kept his word. He came back.”

Fiza Amir is an emerging writer, poet, and medical student from Pakistan. Her work explores the intersection of empathy, memory, and the human condition. She has been published in Fevers of the Mind and Pandemonium Journal.

WINGLESS ANGEL

I was born in a kingdom with underground passages. The king was a tyrant and the queen a woman made up of lies. Poverty, lowliness, and humiliation. I was raised like a guinea pig for experiments. I was raised with the seed of a soul. I have wanted wings since I was a child.

Since I was a child, I wished to fly away from the harshness and darkness of this life. An old man once said to me: “I want to fly. Nothing is certain in this world, but whoever denies heaven will be denied by heaven. I believed it.

I began to have a will to the sun. I knew that even in the land of underground passageways, we are made up of the power of the heavens and the earth. It is not a flight to the top. Rather, we fly to the bottom. To the very depths of humanity.

The ugliness of human beings, their meanness toward the upper class and their pride toward the lower class, became my strength. Wingless flight. I descended to the bottom of the underground passage. There, the living had no purpose, and their souls were as good as dead. Here it became clear to me for the first time that I was an angel without wings.

I planted the seeds of my soul in them without reserve. The will to the sun. With their last strength, they ran up the underground passageway and escaped to the earth. To a land without a tyrannical king and a false queen.

Burnt by the sun and with blinded eyes, they ran up to a high cliff. Then, arms outstretched, they soared toward the sun, one after the other, light and full of happiness.

The Lonely Warrior: In the Wings of the Condor, the new novel by Alexandros Stamatoulakis, has been released by Adrahti Publications. This is the second novel in the saga of the Lonely Warrior, Alex Kosmatos. (In the first novel, Alex turns from a young kid, scared and isolated, into a winner of life in the hands of Akira, a descendant of the Samurai).

In the luminous city of New York, the Lonely Warrior continues his initiation in the high Art of Living after having infiltrated the colorful world of advertising, under the guidance of his boss, Peter Drakos, and Laura the beautiful director. At his side is Akira, the incomparable mentor.

The love of his life, Sogia Aguile, is stressed out at work in the women’s magazine of the bossy and perfectionist Maggy Smith. Sofia’s grandfather, Don Giovanni, is the target of lethal threats.

At the same time, in the shadow of the defeat in Vietnam and the big economic interests, a conspiracy is brewing.

But then, a shocking event sends Alex away to Peru, where he encounters the samans of the Andes and meets his spirit animal, the condor.

The footnotes in the final section of the book constitute a valuable guide to survival and everyday life.

Sharing for Paivapo Publishing. They’re looking for assistance to translate books from African authors writing in their native languages into English. https://ko-fi.com/africantranslationproject

From contributor Peter Dellolio: I’ve been very fortunate to have a short story collection and a book of new poems to be released this year.  The short story collection is with Cyberwit.net and the poetry book is with Lost Telegram Press.

The short story collection, That’s Where You Go & Other Short Stories is due out in a few weeks, and the poetry collection, Cul de Sac Diaries is due out later this year.

Eva Lianou Petropoulou shares the news about an upcoming poetry contest seeking all styles of poetry. Pieces are due November 30, 2025 and must never have won any other awards and must be accompanied by an Italian or French translation.

Contributor Jaylan Salah is between writing jobs and seeking a remote position from her home in Alexandria, Egypt. She’s got a background in literary and film criticism. Please let us know if you have a position for her or know of someone who’s hiring for gig or traditional employment.

Also, Synchronized Chaos’ first November issue will stop accepting submissions on October 26th. We’ll include anything sent to us on or before that date in November’s first issue.

Now, for this month’s issue: Union and Dissolution.

We explore ways we embrace and come together and ways we pull apart, divide or individuate ourselves.

Dr. Jernail S. Anand reflects on the closeness of family and how each of us seeks and needs loved ones. Maftuna Rustamova also speaks to the joy and importance of family in our lives. Priyanka Neogi contributes a tender and short love poem to a special man as Sevinch Kuvvatova pays tribute to loving mothers everywhere.

Fadi Sido shares of love and beauty concealed and revealed. Ibrahim Honjo crafts a romantic scene of love, youth, and brass bands. Mahbub Alam celebrates the renewing energy of youth. Kandy Fontaine and Alex S. Johnson’s Gogol-esque short story addresses the tenuous relationship many of us have with our bodies in a world where youth and beauty can be commodified.

Nicholas Gunter reflects on the anniversary of losing his father as Norman J. Olson contributes written and drawn sketches of country and farm life as a memorial to his deceased cousin Bill. Kassandra Aguilera grieves her deceased mother through dream conversations.

Ollie Sikes ponders requited and unrequited love. Mirta Liliana Ramirez speaks to the pain of love betrayed. Dilobar Maxmarejabova’s story highlights the harm done to children when parents don’t step up to the plate. Tea Russo sings a ballad of a loveless entertainer. Umida Hamroyeva sends up a poem of grief for a lost loved one as Taro Hokkyo expresses the visceral pain of losing his beloved, his spiritual home. Allison Grayhurst renders up a multi-section epic poem on emotional healing after the betrayal of a friend. Bill Tope’s story highlights prejudices people with disabilities face in the dating world.

The precarious political situation in the United States feeds into J.J. Campbell’s poems of personal disillusionment and slow grief. Ng Yu Hng reviews Nikolina Hua’s poetry, discussing how it evokes personal and societal sorrows. Kandy Fontaine speaks of a traumatizing and destabilizing encounter with a supposed professional in a piece that encourages readers to ponder how we use social power in our own lives. Mykyta Ryzhykh’s fresh poems speak with a tone of cynical self-loathing. In Kandy Fontaine’s second story, seduction and intimacy become weapons in a dystopian world where hybrid life forms feed off of others’ grief.

Srijani Dutta’s poetic speakers use memory and imagination to fill in the gaps created by miscommunication and mistrust in reality. Chloe Schoenfeld’s piece depicts music as a force to help two forgetful people hold onto their memories.

Dino Kalyvas sets a poem about universal human respect and dignity from Eva Lianou Petropoulou to music. Abigail George poetically asserts her unity with all of the world’s diverse creative people. Jacques Fleury defines himself in his poem on his own terms, part of the human race and sharing in universal human ancestry. Eva Petropoulou Lianou interviews poet Nasser Alshaikhamed about the high aspirations he has for his poetry and for humanity. She also interviews Russian poet Olga Levadnaya about craft and the journey to peace through repentance. Dr. Ratan Bhattacharjee poetizes about good overcoming evil in the form of the Goddess Durga slaying a demon. Graciela Noemi Villaverde elaborates on the transformative power of poetry as Dr. Brent Yergensen dramatizes one of Jesus’ parables in verse.

Niloy Rafiq harnesses a courtroom metaphor to highlight how he speaks the truth through his art. Shahnoza Ochildiyeva composes an essay on the purpose and value of the written word. Damon Hubbs depicts an encounter with the ambience and aesthetic of William Butler Yeats as he drinks in Dublin. Z.I. Mahmud probes layers of meaning in Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice, how his understanding of Shylock and racial and religious prejudice might have gone deeper than we realize.

Journalist Jakhongir Nomozov interviews Azerbaijani poet, translator, and linguist Firuza Mammadli, who has deep knowledge of and appreciation for her nation’s literary history and also strong words of caution for students, especially women, who seek to pursue a creative life. Sobirova Samiya highlights the inextricable connections between language and culture. Choriyeva Oynur outlines the literary contributions and legacy of 15th-century Uzbek poet Mavlono Lutfi. Yuldosheva Yulduz Ravshanovna, a teacher, highlights how she sees the light of Uzbek historical poetess Zulfiya carried on in one of her pupils. Muxtasarxon Abdurashidova expresses her gratitude for an inspirational teacher.

To’raqulova Pokiza discusses ways to enhance student speaking and communicative competence in English as a second language. Abdirashidova Ozoda discusses how to encourage preschoolers to develop communication skills related to socializing. Hasanboyev Sardorbek urges educational leaders to make computer literacy and communication via computer an educational priority. Texas Fontanella connects a variety of words and images and references together in a series of text messages. Mark Young plays with words and images, exploring and stretching meaning.

Damion Hamilton speaks to common human, traditionally masculine fears and aspirations. Taylor Dibbert’s poem speaks to the ordinary and universal annoyance of food poisoning as Chimezie Ihekuna recollects sentiments of resilience during the Covid-19 pandemic. Lan Qyqualla’s poetry melds themes of love, loss, longing, and transformation.

Abdel Latif Mubarak’s poems evoke dreams, wonderment, fears, longings, and the desire to live for a greater cause. Eva Petropoulou Lianou calls for compassion, peace and an end to war. Parvinder Nagi urges humanity to make the individual and collective choice to act ethically and responsibly, as does Bhagirath Chowdhary in his poetry. Graciela Irene Rossetti urges humanity to keep soul-searching and discover the true meaning of peace. Tagrid Bou Merhi speaks to the dawning of society and consciousness and the full humanity of women. Eva Petropoulou Lianou reviews Ahmed Miqdad’s poetry and shares his wishes for peace and self-determination for the people of Gaza.

Anthony Chidi Uzoechi’s prose poem evokes the weight of historical grief and suffering in the lives of many people of color. Maja Milojkovic reflects on the nihilistic destruction of war. Bill Tope laments and fears recent dark turns in American politics. Til Kumari Sharma speaks up for young people, women and girls, and the students fighting in the 2025 Nepali uprising. Duane Vorhees also speaks of revolution, along with sensuality, coupling, and new life.

Andre Osorio uncovers a language of resistance and survival in Hua Ai’s new poetry collection Exiles Across Time. Daniela Chourio-Soto draws on artistic language and metaphor to speak to despair as part of the human experience.

Alan Catlin mulls over the precarity and drama of human existence. Yongbo Ma crafts moments of inflection, when matters will soon change, as part of his commentary that movement is life and stasis becomes despair. Nicholas Vigiletti evokes the ennui and frustration of low wage, dead end jobs.

Jessica Hu’s strange poetry speaks to a brutal and cold world. Mesfakus Salahin implores nature’s wild elements not to ruin his joyful union with his beloved.

Aurelia Preskill reflects on the beauty of an apple and how easily Adam and Eve could have been tempted and forever changed. Sayani Mukherjee reflects on autumnal magic and metamorphoses. Rafi Overton gives us a butterfly’s reflection on his past metamorphosis and how what he truly needed was self-love regardless of physical status.

Ari Nystrom-Rice reflects on how people and nature, in the form of the ocean, are inseparable. Stephen Jarrell Williams’ poetic speaker shares many facets of his memories of the sea. Jerome Berglund and Christina Chin’s tan-renga convey different “moods” of nature: resilience, fear, aggression, and coexistence. Yongbo Ma evokes loneliness through images of burned-out spiders out of silk for their webs.

Abigail George reviews Rehanul Hoque’s novel The Immigrant Catfish, a parable about greed and environmental mismanagement and destruction. Bill Tope and Doug Hawley’s story narrates the redemption of a man who comes to protect birds he once carelessly killed. Jennie Park’s artwork shows a tender care for the natural world amid the threats it faces.

Brian Barbeito delves deeply into the nature and mysteries of one particular spot in the country. Other writers do the same for ordinary and individual people. Noah Berlatsky points out the subtle tragedy underlying Job’s Biblical story: the way the ending inadvertently suggests that people are interchangeable and thus disposable.

Teresa Nocetti uses a pillow to evoke the complex feelings of a person heading to sleep. Nidia Amelia Garcia does something similar with poetry concerning the history of wrinkles on human faces. Tanner Guiglotto presents a visceral battle with self-doubt. Ellie Hill explores different aspects of a teacup image to comment on how she possesses both delicacy and strength.

Muhammadjonova Ogiloy reviews Otkir Hoshimov’s story collection Ozbeklar, which highlights the dignity and beauty of common hardworking country Uzbeks. Pardaboyeva Charos spotlights the craft of Uzbek embroidery. Fali Ndreka highlights the creativity and skill showcased at Art Basel Miami.

Mushtariybonu Abdurakhimova relates her experiences at a cultural and academic youth development program. Her fellow students highlight other areas of study and knowledge. Aliya Abdurasulova outlines nuances of programming in the C++ language. Shahlo Rustamova’s essay reminds us of the importance of maintaining thyroid health. Ike Boat celebrates the career and skill of martial arts actress Cynthia Rotrock.

Dildora Khujyazova suggests a balanced and optimistic view of economic and cultural globalization, pointing out how individual creators can take advantage of the chance to bring their creativity to wider markets.

Synchronized Chaos International Magazine is intended as a venue for creators of all types around the world to display their works. We hope you enjoy this mingling of ideas!

The Metamorphosis of Dreams

I gather the faces of people,
in the treasure of folly,
engraving upon my poor dress
a song, a silent prayer.
I add colors to creation,
to weave a metamorphosis,
one after another,
echoing the depths of happiness.
I am your dream,
O people of reason,
a condition veiled in wonder,
eyes gazing towards tomorrow.
The streets are empty,
hearts outstretched,
trodden by the weight
of silent doubt.
I adapt to grandeur,
inhabiting an incapacity,
visible to all,
my nakedness, my fragility.
My feet are nailed
to the pavement’s face,
showcases of sorrow,
where hope feels faint.
Sometimes it sighs,
and sometimes it softens,
your dream, O people of words,
is sweeter, but often forgotten.
For I am the one who wanders,
or do people wander with me?
A dervish in a circle,
lost in a memory.
I emerge, my soul pours forth,
between its lines, the strings
of longing for the sanctuary’s robe,
and the blessings that true love brings.
They slept upon the shoulders of time,
testimony of interwoven moments,
signs of exchange,
a miracle yet to be found.
***

A Martyr
Sign me up, right here,
To a womb that defies history’s commute.
Inscribe my name.
Never did I nurse from the breasts of women in a slave market.
I could not trust mystics,
Nor did their bells ring recognition in my heart.
A million fears
My fears, multiplied a millionfold,
When I find death staring into my life,
When I see coffins stacked,
Black as the tears of rain.
May God grant you a long life,
To console homes filled with sorrow—
The bodies of the martyrs,
Whose lives gifted you freedom.
Beside the widows and orphans,
Gallows craft your dreams,
Selling your heart on the very first road.
Be a martyr.
***
A frame to image painful
Sorrows planted deep inside hearts,
Awakening seeds of fear,
With horror facts concealed and capped.
Dressed in the wear of silence,
The sorrows of the day were sown—
A sign upon a grave, a dub
To the slow death of man, unknown.
Silence is no picture of them,
Without a paint, it’s stark and grim.
Accepted: you die anonymous,
Though in your truth, you live a dream.
Though your heart in desert carries home,
Though your age was right for your own land,
Accepted: you die anonymous,
Like Zia’s glory, a vanishing strand.
When such a spirit’s light extinguishes,
And disappears, a beautiful dream ends,
Accepted: you die anonymous.
Too, houses died, their doors against walls bend.
Her streets, they mourned; the night came, withered,
Leaving a body, chronically loved,
A shiny star, whose songs no longer tethered
To the moon, now silently removed.
Rumored, the last beats from your heart,
You felt and then announced absence.
Faces passed like dreams, printed apart
On the plate-blooded board of lost essence.
Regrets the eye which saw of leaving
At mystery. It was not inspiring—
A frame to image aching, ever grieving.

***
Probability

The wheat stalks breathe you in,
Braid your letters for the evenings.
And stir your songs the day they met
Upon his face, the silence… the flock of stillness.
Depart to where we began our journey,
Indeed, the streams hold but fragments.
To a time squandered,
Forgive my death when I choose you,
To the mercy of the devout, in protest,
To the dwelling of the wound,
The distance of desolation.
And your endurance was to borrow
From the star, the day of collapse’s rituals.
Within you, the debasement of poems eludes,
Towards the sunrise.
And you quiet above some plains
The languages of apprehension,
In your sailing times.
You soothe the blaze of solitude… cities,
And pour into the eye the tears of reunion,
Branches from the beginning we were,
For the land of severance.
We carry to it the beseeching letters,
To write in love,
The beloved’s spinning song.
And you still swear by the earthquake,
So as to prepare a new homeland,
Which the questions lost in their lament,
And the impossible bolted its gates
With bursts of time that began to depart.
You never left the harvests of remembrance,
That we were quenching.
With your silence, visions will not overflow
The boundaries of emptiness.
And we…
Are in vain.

***

The child residing deep inside me

The child residing deep inside me,
When fear ignites, blazes with delight,
Shattering every frame,
Out into the street, he openly proclaims
His right to taste a morsel of truth.
With utter innocence, he’d plead with the sun’s rays,
As they arrived to confiscate tomorrow’s darkness.
He never knew that the morrow,
Lying slain on the heart’s threshold,
Was already sacrificed.
The child residing deep inside me,
Quietly gathers fragments from the shadow
Of the girl fallen from the window of desire.
He passes from beneath the navel,
To the furthest lip at the edge of the house,
Retreating to the corner, at the furthest bank,
And in the dark rooms, he rattles
Matchboxes.
The child residing deep inside me,
Has but one hand,
With it, he gathers the world before him,
Drawing it in clusters.
And within his notebook of dreams,
He scribbles, then redraws.
The child residing deep inside me,
Is inherently stubborn.
He demolishes every dream in an instant,
The moment he awakens
To a new dawn.

Abdel Latif Mubarak, also known by his Arabic name عبد اللطيف مبارك, is an Egyptian poet and lyricist born in 1964 in Suez . He is widely recognized as one of the most important poets of the 1980s. His poems have been published in numerous literary journals in Egypt and the Arab world, including Arab Magazine, Kuwait Magazine, News Literature, Republic Newspaper, AI-Ahram, and The New Publishing Culture . ^[ 1 ]

Abdel Latif Mubarak’s fame rests on his distinctive poetic style, which skillfully combines the beauty of words with profound reflection on aspects of life and humanity. His verses are imbued with sensitivity, emotion, and a profound understanding of the human condition.

Over the years, Mubarak has received numerous awards and accolades for his work. In 2014, he was honored with the Arab Media Union’s Shield of Excellence and Creativity, recognizing his significant impact on poetry and literature. In 2021, he also won the prestigious East Academy Shield of Excellence and Creativity, a testament to his continued perseverance and dedication to his craft.

Food Poisoning

He has a solid case

Of food positioning

And he hates this 

So much

The only bright spot

Is that the bad stuff started

When he was 

In his hotel room.

Taylor Dibbert is a poet in Washington, DC. He’s author of, most recently, “On the Rocks.”