Synchronized Chaos’ First May Issue: Paradoxical Understandings

First, some announcements before our first May issue, Paradoxical Understandings.

Pink, blue, white and purple circle with circular designs around the edges.
Photo of a “paradox frame” c/o Piotr Siedlecki

Poetry submissions to North of Oxford’s Streur Anthology are now open!

North of Oxford would like to pay tribute to the late Russell Streur, poet and publisher of The Camel Saloon and The Plum Tree Tavern with an online anthology dedicated to Nature. Send us your poems of Nature, of floral and fauna, of forests and trees, of rivers, creeks and streams. Of farms, of urban nature, of parks and sanctuaries, of oceans and bays, of islands, of all things, Nature.

Send one to three poems for consideration of publication to North of Oxford at sahmsguarnieriandreutter@gmail.com  Subject line of submission: Streur Anthology. Submissions will be accepted until 5/31/25. Only submissions attached as word doc will be reviewed. Please include a 100-word bio within the word doc.

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2025/04/13/streur-nature-anthology-submissions/

Announcement from Jacques Fleury:
 “You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self”  is being featured on the Boston Public Library website for Haitian American Heritage Month in May!

Silhouetted figure leaping off into the unknown with hand and leg raised. Bushes and tree in the foreground, mountains ahead. Book is green and yellow with black text and title.
Jacques Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey Towards Understanding Your Authentic Self

Eva Petropoulou Lianou shares a short film inspired by NASA’s inclusion of her poetry in a capsule launched to the moon.

Synopsis
On 26th February 2025 NASA launched a capsule with poems to the moon, one of them was the anti-war poem “Happy Birthday”. Written by Eva Lianou Petropoulou, Directed & Animated by Zina Papadopoulou, Music & Sound by Grigoris Grigoropoulos

Lunar codex, Athena, Minerva Excelsior, The Vagabond Anthology, edited by Mark Lipman, dedicated to the Palestinian poet Ahmed Miqdad

Also, our contributor Brian Barbeito’s new book has just come out, When I Hear the Night. This is a prose poem and landscape photography book. Included with the words and pictures are two literary and dynamic introductory essays, one by poet and editor Jude Goodwin, and another by the writer and editor Mary Buchanan Sellers, figures current and thus well-informed in the field. There are also author notes and question-and-answer sections. The writings can be said to have interesting elements of memoir, essay, belle-lettres, poetry, and short story forms. Their content often includes the mystic and inner vision of the author coupled with the outside world of nature walking and travel.

Brian Barbeito's book When I Hear the Night. White text in various fonts, orange at the top, a bonfire outdoors with flames and colored lights at night on the bottom. Blue stripe at the bottom.

When I Hear the Night can be ordered here.

Now, for May 2025’s first issue: Paradoxical Understandings. In this issue, we explore various perspectives and vantage points, how multiple things can be true at once in our complex universe.

Painting of an older Black man with a beard resting his head on his fist. He's got on a jacket and a red cardinal is on his shoulder.
Image c/o Jacques Fleury

To begin, poet Yang Yujun interviews Sudhakar Gaidhani about the inspirations behind his epic poetic work Devdoot the Angel, which promotes wisdom and unity among the world’s diverse groups of people and philosophies.

On a more personal level, Peter Cherches writes of understandings and misunderstandings, how much we can come to know or forget about those closest to us. Aziza Xazanova urges human understanding through avoiding assumptions and listening with empathy. Daniel De Culla relates a story where a person in trouble simply seeks a listening ear, not rescue.

One way people can understand each other better is by learning each other’s languages. Several contributors discuss pedagogical methods for language teaching.

Malika Abdusamadovna writes about translation techniques, the importance of clarity in a teacher’s speech, principles of word division in various European languages, and ways to teach speech activity. Gafurova Mahbuba discusses complex sentence structure, digital game metrics as teaching tools, and practical and theoretical approaches to translation. Oblaqulova Gulshoda examines and compares the implied meanings of Uzbek and Japanese idioms.

Scrabble tiles, blue text on white tile. The R, worth one point, is jostled out of place in the middle.
Image c/o Anna Langova

Abdullajonova Rayhona outlines methods of translation practice, how to teach speech activities, principles for the categorization of words, and how to teach language through movement and stories. Olimova Shahina discusses how to improve English learners’ skill in speaking. Matqurbonova Ro’zaxon explores different methods of improving spoken word fluency in language learners. Husanboyeva Nargiza highlights the potential of new digital technologies in education.

Other contributors reinterpret language in concrete and abstract ways. Jerome Berglund renders different poetic forms into concrete images. Noah Berlatsky contributes a humorous poem about procrastination that uses repetition as a literary device. Christina Chin and Uchechukwu Onyedikam craft joint tan-renga poems, finishing each other’s pieces with images of music, nature, rest, and memories. Rus Khomutoff’s concrete poetry takes us on a journey of surrealism, music, and romance.

Like Khomutoff, other writers travel deep into their own psyches. Brian Barbeito reflects on his thought process and creative journeys, considering how he both opens his mind to emptiness and enlightenment and, like a skilled hockey player, remembers the basics of his craft. On another note, Nigar Nurulla Khalilova evokes writers’ block and an intense, foul mood as harsh as the Arab Simoom wind.

Mesfakus Salahin ponders the fragility of human identity and self-concept. Mark Young’s poetry explores creative processes, relationships, and the search for meaning. Texas Fontanella’s music digs deep for a dose of duende. Tagrid Bou Merhi draws on train travel as a metaphor for introspection and longing for one’s past or future. Stephen Jarrell Williams crafts a series of verses describing a person’s inner struggle and renewal. Ari Nystrom-Rice explores identity, wondering who he truly is underneath the surface. Mexribon Shodiyeva’s poetry celebrates the fragile butterfly and the beauty of being yourself. Shamsiya Khudoynazarova Turumovna relates having had the courage to free herself from an unhealthy situation and walk her own path.

Light skinned man in a black suit and collared white shirt holds a photo of a woman with dark hair in front of his face.
Image c/o Gerd Altmann

Paul Cordeiro speaks to the aftermath of significant relationships and events and to how our feelings can reshape our memories. On a less serious level, Mark Blickley develops a farcical story of unemployment fraud inspired by a photo of a man with a sheep skull, where a character invests deeply into reinventing himself.

On a more cosmic level, Jack Mellender’s work looks at space, time, and humanity’s place in the universe. Ummnusalma Nasir Mukhtar relates a fanciful and expansive dream where she traveled to the moon and stars and gathered her strength. Jacques Fleury’s photography encourages us to view life from different vantage points, exploring concepts as varied as travel, physical attraction, thought, and justice.

Duane Vorhees reflects on ancient archetypes and how we tell stories about ourselves. Sayani Mukherjee reflects on the constant turbulence of human and natural history. Dr. Jernail S. Anand probes some basic paradoxes of modern human life.

Rezauddin Stalin reflects on the beauty and the price of freedom as Blue Chynoweth reflects on the blessing and curse of being able to contemplate one’s place in the universe rather than living by instinct.

Mahbub Alam wonders whether love or self-destruction will win the day. As a person of faith grappling with these issues, Chimezie Ihekuna addresses life’s seemingly intractable struggles, suffering, and human evil, and also God’s implacable goodness in a paradoxical couplet of poems. Lilian Dipasupil’s paired poems take a similar approach, warning of child kidnapping while honoring the love and sacrifice of Jesus.

Black shadow of a wizard holding a staff up to a bunch of stars in a dark environment with blue and red smoke.
Image c/o Ian Pampagna

As writers, one of the ways we can respond to evil is to bear witness and document it as a warning. This is one of the roles of journalism. Davronova Asilabonu affirms the value of journalism and speculates on the field’s future.

More traditionally literary writing can bear witness as well. Yucheng Tao provides a sobering reminder of the historical massacres of the indigenous people of the American West by European settlers and of many Cambodians later in history by the Khmer Rouge. Z.I. Mahmud explores how Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Hound of the Baskervilles brought realism into detective fiction, illustrating the monstrosity of human greed and vengeance. Rahmat Muhammad laments how people where she lives in northern Nigeria no longer honor elders and ancestors as much as they should.

Yet, history has not all been bleak, and people have developed some magnificent works. Christopher Bernard reviews the energizing performance of Grupo Corpo at Berkeley’s Cal Performances, highlighting how the dances reflect various aspects of Brazilian culture. Federico Wardal outlines the accomplishments of celebrated actor Massimo Sangalli. Jeffrey Levert delves into history and philosophy as he wanders the back pathways of a remote Greek island. Graciela Noemi Villaverde poetizes on the beauty of old books and the sorrow of losing or forgetting the words inside.

Shuhratbekova Gulzoda describes the historical contributions of the humanist Jadid leaders of Uzbekistan to art, literature, science, and culture. Dilobar Maxmarejabova expresses her pride in her Uzbek heritage and her hometown of Qashqadaryo. Hashimjonova Durdana affirms her pride in her Uzbek heritage and culture. Nozima Gofurova outlines the many achievements of today’s Uzbek youth.

Artsy image of older books stacked up with a mug, spoon, and saucer on top with steam and some blackbirds flying above. Pieces of paper with text fly above and a red robin perches above a book.
Image c/o George Hodan

Bhagirath Choudhary points to the role of literature in terms of helping people and societies evolve to become more humane. Dr. Jernail S. Anand illuminates the power of art and literature to touch people’s hearts and souls and inspire wiser and more compassionate behavior.

Alexander Klujev highlights connections between Russian music and Russian philosophy and how both honor the triumph of life over death.

Various contributions celebrate different aspects of life. Shahnoza Ochildiyeva enjoys a picnic with her classmates on a sunny spring day. Su Yun evokes the struggle and beauty of flowers growing in an urban environment. Isabel Gomez de Diego photographs childhood exuberance in a neighborhood where humans coexist with nature, trees and bike paths near city apartments. Eva Petropoulou Lianou crafts a story around the evocatively named “Hero’s Path,” a hiking trail near a European monastery. She finds simple joy in nature and travel. Manik Chakraborty takes poetic inspiration from misty mountains as Taro Hokkyo honors his muse and the land on which he writes.

Marjona Jorayeva Baxtiyorovna expresses her respect for women and the feminine, which she links to nurturing and compassion. Gulsanam Qurbonova celebrates the tender nurturing of a mother’s love. Vo Thi Nhu Mai reflects on the warmth and tenderness of her childhood in Vietnam and how that inspired her creativity. Kylian Cubilla Gomez’ photography captures vintage childhood images: Snoopy, old Easter themed toys, a colorful frog, even possibly Dad’s aftershave. David Sapp enters the mind of a three-year-old, excited about cereal and dogs. Marjona Jo’rayeva relates her enthusiasm for a fresh term at school.

Smiling brown skinned child in a blue tee shirt holding out his arms. Trees with green, yellow, red, orange and bluegreen trees in the background.
Image c/o Gerd Altmann

Kristy Raines expresses the simple yet profound joy of two souls finding true love and choosing each other. Eid Saleh writes in English and Arabic of the meeting of souls in a similar way, and refers both to romance and to close friendship. Qaraboyeva Zilola expresses the tender urgency, trepidation, and obsession of young love. Marley Manalo-Ladicho ignites a fiery love feast in his poetry.

However, as Taylor Dibbert points out in his brief poem, romances, and other sources of happiness, aren’t guaranteed to last.

Tuliyeva Sarvinoz’ elegant poetry laments lost love as Mirta Liliana Ramirez honors the memory of a beloved, asserting that she’s not yet ready to move forward. Eva Petropoulou Lianou touches on the tenderness of human hearts and how many of us carry emotional trauma. J.J. Campbell’s poems describe a soul’s slow descent into misery and cynicism. Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal speaks to social and psychological entrapment, stuck with folks tired of his old stories. Linda S. Gunther’s short story “Bake Me a Banyan Tree” explores what we owe our loved ones and how far we would go for them.

Eric Barr’s poetry reflects the realities of navigating life after a stroke. Manik Chakraborty laments destruction caused by a fire as Mykyta Ryzhykh reimagines the Three Little Pigs into a futuristic dystopia in light of environmental destruction. Don Bormon evokes extreme desert heat and the specter of climate change.

Watercolor of lavender in a decorative vase next to a purple towel and lavender scented water in a glass bottle with a stopper.
Image c/o Sulvia

Alex S. Johnson takes us on a mythical journey to transmute sorrow in a poem translated into Greek by Cassandra Alogoskoufi.

Sometimes what one needs to overcome suffering isn’t as complex as alchemy, but can just be time at home curled up with one’s cat. Nicholas Gunther’s poem describes a weary soul’s desire to return home after a long journey. Bill Tope’s short story explores how a senior cat helped bring an older woman out of depression after society made both feel useless.

We hope that Synchronized Chaos can inspire creativity, bear witness to the joys and pains of the world, and transform sorrow and stagnation. Please enjoy this issue!

Prose from David Sapp

Three

I’m three three three one-two-three and nobody knows I’m up up up – Mommy sleeping sleeping sad in her big bed. Daddy at work – work work work in town at the dry cleaners after bacon and eggs and coffee at Ohio Restaurant. Love Daddy – I’m Daddy’s little girl.

Climb one-two-three shelves for cereal in the cupboard – bowl spoon milk from the frigerator sometimes smells bad. Then turn the knob all-by-myself open the big heavy door open the screen door out the door. No shoes no socks my feet my toes wiggle in the grass wet wet wet. Run run run to the barn pee in my big girl training pants take em off and toss em in the weeds every-Mommy’s-bad-word-morning-when-will-she-learn. Bare bottom who cares I don’t care no one cares maybe grandma cares.

Horses are waiting for me me me at the gate one big one nice one mean one brown one white and a pony-just-my-size. And I pet their noses oh my gosh soft so soft and I feed them green grass even the white mean-to-grown-ups one who could eat my tiny fingers anytime it wants to snap-just-like-that but it doesn’t never never never did never never never will. My big brodder’s watching me from his window thinks he’s the boss of me but isn’t the boss of me. Face scrunched and big frown always worry worry worry.

Then my dog friends are waiting every-morning-same-place-same-time for me me me. Black white and brown but mostly black Smokey knows only one trick shake shake shake the neighbor boys taught him a long time ago when he was my brodder’s dog not anymore. And Sammy also black with curly part-poodle hair. And the next-door-neighbor’s big big big red Ireesh Sitter with eyes that say something to me every day. Just us we all go running in the tall green grass field – green grass taller than me and when I fall down my dog friends wait for me to get up and catch up. I know lunch time just-know-it lunch time and cartoons and fight-every-Mommy’s-bad-word-day-driving-me-crazy-brodder time – who’s not the boss of me.

(But he makes me laugh laugh laugh so much I pee my pants accidental not on purpose. When I dunk Oreo cookies in my milk and my mouth is full – makes me laugh so I spray it all over the table. Laugh when he makes the squeaky mouse voice when I try to bite a pickle I can never eat my pickles. “No! No! No! Don’t eat me! Please please please don’t eat me!” And he pushes me around the driveway in my old junky I’m-too-big-for-it-stroller again again again! And of course he showed me how to swing a swing and slide a slide. Keeps my bare feet away from rusty nails and sometime makes me Froot Loops even if I think I-did-it-all-by-myself. And he said he would look after me when I ride the school bus for the very first time. And he looks for me when no one is looking for me and he makes sure I get home for supper. Okay my brodder loves loves loves me even if he isn’t the boss boss boss of me.)

And at nighty-night time Mommy awake – not a morning mommy. And Daddy’s home – I’m Daddy’s little girl Daddy’s home! Brodder shuts up but sometimes a story. Mommy finds at bath and toys in the tub and towel time tics in my ears burrs in my hair from the tall green grass time. Daddy mad Mommy says nothin’ Brodder told-you-so. Tics and burrs just like Smokey Sammy and the big big big red Ireesh Sitter who don’t get baths or towels or cartoons so what’s the big deal?

David Sapp, writer and artist, lives along the southern shore of Lake Erie in North America. A Pushcart nominee, he was awarded Ohio Arts Council Individual Excellence Grants for poetry and the visual arts. His poetry and prose appear widely in the United States, Canada, and the United Kingdom. His publications include articles in the Journal of Creative Behavior, chapbooks Close to Home and Two Buddha, a novel Flying Over Erie, and a book of poems and drawings titled Drawing Nirvana.

Poetry from Bhagirath Choudhary

Older South Asian man with white hair, a white mustache, no beard, and blue eyes. He's in a brown zippered coat, a black and red sweater, and a plaid collared shirt.

1. Please share your thoughts about the future of Literature.

Answer- 

The Literature is the inherent creative human endeavor and enterprise which will last as long as human consciousness is embodied in the physical body in the material realm, because a human being as a cocreator needs to download his inner world of thoughts into the form of spoken and written words organized as systematic expression in a language where the spoken word becomes speech and song while the written linguistic expression becomes Literature.

Moreover, the language and literature have served as the powerful engines of the human evolution.

Knowing that the sustained positive thoughts of universal benevolence through steadfast discipline and regular practice for writing Positive Literature to create an “Epigenetic Mental Ecosystem” which acts as the powerful means and method to awaken the human genes of universal goodness transforming a writer into all caring and compassionate good human being.   

Therefore, I believe that the human endeavor of Positive Literature is the Self transforming exercise which brings out the inherent evolutionary human co creativity which needs to last forever as the evolutionary human endeavor and enterprise. Such is the glorious future of Literature!  

When u start writing?

My first Literary exercise was a poem at the age of twelve, I wrote about friendship which was published in a local newspaper. 

2. The Good and the Bad.

Who is winning in nowadays?

In the contemporary times, the Bad has overwhelmed the Good because of the existing rampant negativity perpetrated by the negative newsfeed of the Global Media Establishments, sadistic elitist indifference to global human suffering, rise of hedonistic and narcissistic social trends, increasing rich and poor divide, irresponsible consumerism fueling the fire of insatiable greed and ecologically disastrous corporate profiteering, all these have created a global ecosystem of perpetual negativity which has arrested the human evolution by disabling the faculty of the logic and reason embodied in the Neocortical Human Brain individually and collectively. 

This global ecosystem of perpetual negativity has become the major cause of the human suffering from the cruel and callous human actions of violence, vendetta, destruction, hatred, intolerance, dishonesty, deceit and dehumanization.

Being mindful of terrible human suffering, I founded the “Global Literary Society” to eradicate the rampant global negativity by promoting the global positivity through Positive Literature. I founded the “Global Movement of Positive Literature” (GMPL) inviting and invoking the 20,700 + GLSians and global literary fraternity around the world for writing living letters highlighting the mental attributes and attitudes of universal benevolence like universal empathy,  peace, justice equality, human solidarity,  human rights, tolerance, cooperation, unconditional love and compassion to build a global ecosystem of human positivity which needs to result in the perpetual world peace, progress and prosperity for one and all upon earth.

3. How many books have you written

And where can we find your books

Answer – I have written 12 books about Evolutionary Cosmic Humanism, Transformative Poetry for healing earth and humanity, Short stories and Essays which can be accessed on the  Academia.edu and can be bought through online marketing platforms like Amazon, Flipkart etc. 

4. The book. E book or Hardcover book

What will be the future?

Ans – The future belongs to digital format like E books because of the ease of its accessibility, transportation and reading anywhere anytime. 

But the Hardcover book will be always there as a chosen collection of personal and family library as a preserved reference book for generations.

5. A wish for 2025

My ardent wish for 2025 is to invite and invoke humanity to align her consciousness with the evolutionary mandate of the Life Principle which has worked for millions of years distilling the evolutionary wisdom through the long chain of sentient beings and finally getting it embodied in a human body and being. In the same breath, I seek to emphasize that the evolutionary process gave a man NO organs of violence like horns, thorns, stings, spines, poisonous fangs, flesh tearing canines but it has made a human being into an *Apostle of Nonviolence*. This means the human violence is an illusion and there is NO evolutionary sanction for violence to humanity! 

A phrase from my book “The Evolutionary Cosmic Humanism” –

Man begins where nature stops!

The Nature has completed its evolutionary task of the genetic immortality through biological reproduction where parents live in their children as their own biologically extended selves.

After completing the basic genetic evolution, the Nature handed over the “Baton of Evolutionary Relay Race” to man asking him to work with the applied logic and reason of the Neocortical Human Brain (NHB) for the required Mental Evolution of humanity.

The Mental Evolution of man is the new evolutionary mandate for humanity! 

In other words, man needs to clean up the mental pollution caused by the animal attributes of animal nature like anger, jealousy, hatred, violence, vengeance, doubt which disable the Neocortical Human Brain downgrading a man into animal mode of existence again!

Therefore, a man needs to build an internal epigenetic environment by practicing the charitable humanitarian mental attributes of truth, empathy, honesty, justice, equality, cooperation, unconditional love and compassion to awaken the genes required for the future Mental Evolution.  

Nature performed the Genetic Evolution of Human Body, now man needs to perform the Epigenetic Evolution of Human Mind through dedicated steadfast discipline and self efforts!

After transcending the victimhood of the survival mode, man needs to reach to the universally benevolent state of a sovereign cosmic volunteer attaining the Bodhisattva Consciousness who suspends his own nirvana for helping other sentient beings to achieve and attain their nirvana. In other words, a man needs to be and become a cosmic volunteer like the God’s commandment in the Chapter of Genesis of Bible – “Be the tree of life”.

He is a lifelong Scientist and Yogi seeking to build bridges between the knowledge systems of Science and Spirituality. He is an internationally acknowledged poet, writer, social activist, evolutionary cosmic humanist, global activist for responsible earth citizenship, responsible parenthood, world peace and environment activist based in New Delhi, India.

He is the founder of Global Literary Society with 20,700+ members. He is the founding father of the “Global Movement of Positive Literature” (GMPL), urging world poetic fraternity to create a Global Wave of Positive Literature for building a planetary ecosystem of collective human positivity for perpetual world peace, progress and prosperity for one and all. 

He has published 12 books of Evolutionary Cosmic Humanism, Poetry, Short stories, Essays and his poems have been published in many international anthologies. He is recipient of the Honorary Doctorate in Literature from The Institute of European Roma Studies and Research into Crimes Against Humanity and International Law, Belgrade, Republic of Serbia and he has received many international awards as well. 

Essay from Shahnoza Ochildiyeva

Central Asian teen girl in a light blue collared ruffled blouse and black skirt in a grassy field with leafy green trees.

The Season of Friendship and love

     Spring is a dawn. A dawn that awakens the entire world and gifts warmth, joy, and delight to every heart. With the arrival of spring, nature revives: trees begin to bud, and the earth’s green attire refreshes the soul. New plans, dreams, and sincere intentions blossom within the human heart. One of the most beautiful aspects of spring is how its brightness manifests itself in people’s moods. Not only the world around us, but our inner selves also become lighter and more radiant. Today, every corner of our country breathes spring. Parks, gardens, and recreation areas are filled with people. Everyone rushes to enjoy the season and spend time with loved ones.

Especially the youth — they fill every green field with laughter. They eat together, play games, laugh, take photos. Such scenes inspire a deeper appreciation for life. On one such inspiring day, we — 35-24 group students , under the guidance of our teacher Ma’mura Erkinovna — set out for a picnic in Anhor Park. The warm sunlight, the fresh air infused with the spirit of spring, the presence of dear friends, and heartfelt conversations all became part of an unforgettable memory. Some unexpected moments, little mistakes and imperfections only added more color to our day. Indeed, it is such seemingly simple moments that nourish the heart and soothe the soul. 

A picnic with close friends is not merely a break — it is a heartfelt ceremony that binds hearts together. Not only food is shared, but also joy, affection, and loyalty. In today’s fast-paced world, with time rushing by, we often struggle to find even a moment for ourselves or to reach out to our loved ones. But fleeting minutes on the clock ask us to appreciate them, to enjoy love and the beautiful memories it brings. Truly, in this temporary world where everything eventually fades, only emotions, inner wealth, spiritual growth, and precious memories belong to us.

And the moments spent with sincere friends seem to pause time itself. They create lasting memories that live on in the heart — becoming part of our soul’s deepest core. The picnic we had with our group of nearly twenty coursemates and our beloved teacher is one of those moments — unforgettable and forever engraved in photos and hearts. We are thankful to our teacher, Ma’mura Erkinovna, for bringing us together, encouraging unity, and helping us experience the beauty of nature in its purest form. Indeed, going out into nature with good friends is not a mere outing. That’s why many young people choose to adorn their spring days with such picnics. To some, a picnic may seem like a common activity — something anyone can plan anytime. But for me, it is a ceremony of strengthening trust, loyalty, and affection. And spring is the most exquisite season that nurtures such sincerity.

Variety of Central Asia students, young women, in dress clothes or uniforms, having an outdoor picnic near leafy trees.

Ochildiyeva Shahnoza

1st year student at Uzbekistan Journalism and Mass Communications university

English philology and teaching languages faculty

Poetry from Stephen Jarrell Williams

Sky Fall into Sticks

(1)

3 hours after midnight

not caring about the absence of sleep

on a bare mattress left behind

in a room with the ceiling blown off

from when they struck nightly raids

the weather staying the same

a forever stillness waiting

for bombs to fall again and again.

(2)

Pretending candles floating in the air

sweet scents of yesterday

when all was good

seemingly

our kiss-locks squeezing into ecstasy

glowing with no fear

a gift of confidence

with chains quietly attaching.

(3)

Now a prisoner left to rot

drunk with nostrils baked with smoke

college stoned years ago

ego believing

truth expanding

since that’s all there is

on the beginner’s level

which I will rise above when my wings grow.

(4)

Chest hurting

aligning with my backbone

headaches from bubbles in the brain

memories of child and teenage

wet rags on hilltops of rage

dripping down between my legs

consciousness welling into inner storms

capable of winning wars.

(5)

I kick my feet up and out

with a snarl

ready to fight

storm clouds making a fuss above

but I am now

not afraid

out into the world

biting off the head of the snake!

Poetry from Mahbub Alam

Middle aged South Asian man with reading glasses, short dark hair, and an orange and green and white collared shirt. He's standing in front of a lake with bushes and grass in the background.
Mahbub Alam

The Last View

The last view I like to ask

The world is composed of music

The blood always stirs with this tune of the varieties of musical tastes

The nature itself a bond for love in every opposite the male – female

 Everything sings together, sings for each other, the teaching of love

As the teacher always teaches us to be sympathized with the sorrowful

And be happy to see the other’s happiness

The eyes will come to close its sight

The world may say us ‘Good Bye’

We must smile over the last thought or sigh

The view may show the glory for both of us we live in love

In cry and laugh

What’s the most feature of the reality nowadays?

There is no water to play the boat

The view, not vivid can give us relief, the foggy night

The tigers do not the matter for eating their cubs

On the other hand the view of devouring humanity

What brings up the ending?

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh

26 April, 2025.

Md. Mahbubul Alam is from Bangladesh. His writer name is Mahbub John in Bangladesh. He is a Senior Teacher (English) of Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh. Chapainawabganj is a district town of Bangladesh. He is an MA in English Literature from Rajshahi College under National University. He has published three books of poems in Bangla. He writes mainly poems but other branches of literature such as prose, article, essay etc. also have been published in national and local newspapers, magazines, little magazines. He has achieved three times the Best Teacher Certificate and Crest in National Education Week in the District Wise Competition in Chapainawabganj District. He has gained many literary awards from home and abroad. His English writings have been published in Synchronized Chaos for seven years.

Essay from Mykyta Ryzhykh

Futuristic image of giant pigs in a barren landscape dominated by domelike wooden structures with large spinning wheels, ladders, and sod roofs.

The Myth of the Last Shelter

AI GENERATION

The world was a graveyard of metal and dust. Once, it had been a thriving ecosystem—a place of green forests, blue skies, and quiet lakes. Now, all that remained were ruins. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning plastic and oil, and the ground was cracked, barren, like a wound that refused to heal.

Three piglets—small and fragile in the face of this post-apocalyptic landscape—struggled to survive. Each had their vision of how life could continue in the ruins, each had their own idea of shelter, safety, and salvation. But the truth was simple: none of them were truly safe.

The first piglet, named Ironhoof, built his fortress of steel. Tall spires of metal rose like the bones of a giant, sharp and cold, stretching toward the gray sky. He filled his walls with machines—giant gears that turned without purpose, engines that roared in the silence, weapons that gleamed with dangerous promise. To Ironhoof, survival was about control, about the power of human-made structures, about making a world where nothing could touch him. But the walls of his fortress did not protect him from the constant hum of emptiness. As the wind howled outside, he sat alone in his sterile tower, staring at the screen that flickered in the dark. He wanted power, but it was the lack of meaning that gnawed at him.

The second piglet, Greenwhisk, crafted a dwelling of glass and plants. Her structure was a delicate blend of bio-tech and nature—vines curled around the frames, and bio-luminescent moss lit the pathways at night. She dreamt of a world where harmony with nature could return, where the earth could heal itself. The winds whispered through the leaves of trees that grew in the heart of her shelter, their roots entwined with the very wires that powered her home. Yet, Greenwhisk found no peace in the rustling of leaves. The gentle hum of life outside her walls was tainted by the constant reminder of the world’s decay. She wondered if she was merely hiding in a fragile illusion—a fragile dream that would wither when the last resource ran dry.

The third piglet, named Wildtail, had built his home in the ruins of nature itself. His shelter was less a building than an extension of the land—a cavernous space woven into the roots of an ancient tree, where branches reached down like veins connecting the past to the future. His philosophy was that true survival lay in returning to the land, in living as one with the forgotten world, in surrendering to the rhythms of the earth. Yet, as he lay in his shelter, he could hear the groans of the land itself, the cracking of the trees, the faint whispers of extinction in every gust of wind. How long could the earth withstand the weight of their need?

The world outside was constantly shifting—storms brewed and passed, but each one left its mark. The threats were always there—bandits who roamed the broken roads, scavengers who preyed on the weak, and the unrelenting erosion of the planet’s resources. But as each attack came, each threat loomed larger, the piglets began to see a different truth.

One evening, as the sun fell beneath a sky the color of ash, a violent storm raged over the land. Ironhoof’s fortress shook as the winds slammed against its steel walls. His machines buzzed erratically, flickering in and out of power. Greenwhisk’s plants withered under the pressure, their bioluminescent glow dimming, leaves curling in defeat. Wildtail’s tree was bent, its branches snapped like bones under the force of the storm.

The piglets emerged from their shelters and met in the middle of the ruined land. They had survived the storm, but the cost was clear. Ironhoof’s walls were battered and rusting. Greenwhisk’s glass cracked under the pressure. Wildtail’s roots had begun to decay.

“We are losing,” Ironhoof said, his voice hollow. “None of our shelters stand up to this world. We build, and it is destroyed. Over and over again.”

Greenwhisk, staring at the shattered remnants of her plants, spoke softly, “Perhaps we were never meant to fight against the world. Maybe we were meant to live with it. But even that… it’s slipping away.”

Wildtail, his eyes reflecting the dying light of the storm, whispered, “Maybe we’re not meant to survive at all. Maybe we’ve already lost.”

The three piglets stood in silence, facing the crumbling ruins of their shelters, and in that silence, they realized the true destruction was not in the storm, not in the broken world—but in themselves. They had built their shelters to protect against the world, but they had never stopped to question their own hearts, their own contradictions.

Ironhoof had sought power, but in the end, he was trapped within his own fortress of isolation. Greenwhisk had sought harmony with nature, but had she been blinded by her idealism, too fragile to withstand the world’s cruelty? Wildtail had sought surrender to the earth, but the earth was already dying, and with it, so was he.

They stood there, each lost in the ruins of their beliefs. The world was no longer something they could fight against—it was something that had already claimed them. The storm had passed, but the true storm—the one within them—raged on.

In the end, there was no answer. There was only the wind, the empty sky, and the sound of their hearts slowly breaking, one beat at a time.