Synchronized Chaos February 2024: Ecosystem of Ideas

First of all, here’s an announcement! Regular Synch Chaos contributor, poet Taylor Dibbert, has a newly released collection of his poetry, Invictus, available for purchase.

Also, past contributor Areg Azatyan’s novel The Flying African has just been released from Frayed Edge Press! Translated from the Armenian by Nazareth Seferian, the book follows the journey of an unnamed traveler, a young Armenian writer who spends fifty-four adventurous days in Africa, one day in each of the continent’s countries.

We are also hosting a free public literary reading in conjunction with the Association of Writing Programs conference next month in Kansas City, MO. This will be at 6pm on the evening of February 7th at Prospero’s Books. All are welcome to come and hear the readers!

Now for this month’s issue: The Ecosystem of Ideas.

Light skinned woman staring out face forward with the ocean and the night sky with stars and a chessboard behind her.
Image c/o David Bruyland

Terry Trowbridge probes the intricate world of pillbugs under the ground while Don Bormon looks into the hardworking and cohesive colonies of ants.

Gulsevar Xojamova draws on the rainbow as a symbol of natural beauty and urges her country’s people to embrace the beauty and pride of Uzbekistan.

Sayani Mukherjee relates the “touch and go” nature of winter, when nature is not all dormant, but awaiting a streak of warm and dry enough weather. Azemina Krehic evokes the bitter, sucking, deathly cold of winter wind and snow. Meanwhile, Uzbek writer Nosirova Gavhar regales us with the beauty of nature and her country’s folk traditions in the spring.

Brian Barbeito suggests that woodland ecosystems should be considered a living thing in their own right, not simply the sum of living species. Ali Akramov looks into the effects flooding has on mountain geology and ecosystems.

Jerry Langdon’s poetry bridges the worlds of nature and culture as he writes of the destruction wreaked by fire, lightning, and a slow-burn romantic breakup. Mahbub Alam continues in that vein by drawing on the language of marriage to express a human union with the natural world, while Mahmudul Hasan Fahim explores the emotional, ecological, and social ramifications of different cultural funerary customs.

Z.I. Mahmud explores how poets Mary Oliver and William Blake reflect the inextricable unity of humans and nature through their Romantic and spiritual poetry.

Sayani Mukherjee‘s poetry explores the world of Paris, New York and London while Mark Young humorously compares himself to pop culture icons of past and present and Odina Rustamjonova looks into the strengths and weaknesses of the mass transit systems within Uzbekistan. Maja Milojkovic highlights a little-known cultural and linguistic connection between Tunisian Arabs and Serbians.

Heart scrawled in black ink on a purple, blue, green and yellow background with "It's Good to be Alive" in purple paint to the left.
Image c/o Linnaea Mallette

Isabel Gomez de Diego sends up a mix of personal and grandiose moments of contemplation and holiday celebration.

Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa highlights the value of personal development, urging us to take the daily steps to prepare our hearts and lives to be ready for extraordinary moments of grace.

Nafisa Abralova’s drama highlights the importance of education, discipline, and responsibility for children under our care while Charos Toshpulatova traces the development of the idea of and legal precedent for the rights of children.

John Mellender addresses growing up, laying aside or recognizing the limitations of one’s youthful idealism. Muhammed Aamir evokes a future world where we can regenerate our loved ones with the help of technology. John Edward Culp envisions his future great-grandchildren eating together and showing concern for each other in the same park where he’s doing the same for his loved one.

J.J. Campbell mixes a bit of nostalgia and anachronism in his monthly pieces on loneliness and despair, as he’s “playing jazz in a world of heavy metal.” Saad Ali mixes together history, poetic device, and love in his variety of experimental pieces.

Homespun pillow heart on top of an open book on top of a table.
Image c/o Axelle B

Kristy Raines speaks to the emotional connection of true love while Ifora Bahramova paints a simple domestic scene of love between a mother and her young children. Ari Nystrom-Rice evokes childhood playground memories in his poem on the loss of a close friendship.

Safarova Zarnigor analyzes a delicate poem from Faynberg about love lasting over time while Sevinch Saidova relates the story of a man who struggles with addiction and health issues and the family who loves him unconditionally. Oona Haskovec reflects on her loneliness and desire for caring friendship, staring at her hands while eating alone in her kitchen.

Oaoao Pbobo reminds us of the joy of learning to read and write and the doors it can open for us. Nigora Tursunboyeva explores the depths of poetry and emotional resonance within the work of Uzbek children’s author Khudoyberdi Tokhtabayev. Aziza Umurzakova highlights the role preschool and young children’s education can play in a healthy nation.

Diyora Bakhodirovna outlines how new educational technologies may enhance student learning.

Bookshelf full of books of varying colors in the background, tunnel of books fading to brown in the foreground.
Image c/o Petr Kratochvil

Nozima Baxtiyorova suggests that the technology used to continue children’s education during Covid-19 could be extended for their benefit as the pandemic lessens. Malika Kaxarova explores linguistic figures of speech and the role they play in cognition and the field of cognitive linguistics.

Mahbuba Juraboyeva outlines the importance of proper and professional speech to the legal profession while Bahora Baxtiyorova celebrates an important business leader in Uzbekistan who harnesses modern social media methods for communication and advertising. Elmaya Jabbarova honors the power, dignity, and beauty of her homeland of Azerbaijan while Faleeha Hassan conjures through her words a fanciful street scene complete with fish vendors and confetti and sandstorms and J.D. Nelson’s five monostichs hint at imagined vignettes from daily life.

Dilnoza Ochildiyeva outlines the history and heritage of her Uzbek homeland while Maftuna Imamova discusses strategies for enhancing Uzbekistan’s economic position in world markets.

Mesfakus Salahin dreams of a more peaceful and compassionate world in the future while Anila Bukhari illustrates how girls should be allowed education and freedom.

Light from sparkler fireworks, small narrow long beams of light, forming a five point star in the middle of the image.
Photo c/o David Wagner

John Grochalski speaks to the many small and larger ways we assert our independence and existence as individuals. Skye Preston crafts a flash Gothic-esque sketch where a young woman vows not to take after her parents, and we find out why.

Sabrid Jahan Mahin points out the mysteries still unknown about how our brains work, although they are the strongest problem-solving force we have. The San Francisco Ballet’s new show Mere Mortals, here reviewed by Christopher Bernard, explores the Greek myth of Pandora and the fine line between human exploration and empowerment and human selfishness and evil.

Chimezie Ihekuna challenges himself to reconsider conventional wisdom in his frustrating search for truth. As for truth, Dr. Abdul Awal explores scientific, philosophical, and spiritual insights found within the Koran. Graciela Noemi Villaverde presents a protagonist whose heart has hardened because he no longer listens to the tender muse of compassion, mystery and poetry, while Mirta Liliana Ramirez depicts a heart that regenerates after repeated emotional destruction.

Bill Tope relates the tale of a courageous woman who rises up from near-devastation and solves her own rape, while Doug Hawley ponders whether the same person can handle the public and “beautiful” aspects of art and the more practical and business oriented features in his piece on two twin sisters.

Peter Cherches explores identity, plagiarism, the bounds of self-expression and alter egos in his short story that looks into what it can take to make it as a writer. Duane Vorhees renders the act of writing into something physical, dragging words and thoughts and other substances across the page.

Joshua Martin reviews Irene Koronas’ new collection gnostos, which plumbs the depths of a plethora of connected areas of knowledge and thought. He also covers Daniel Y. Harris’ new book The Metempsychosis of Salvador Dracu, which also merges human thought in the form of code and in poetry and illustrates the permeability of our concepts of personhood.

Jim Meirose also suggests an interplay of the biological and astrobiological and linguistic in his short story while Alma Ryan’s speaker dances through a portal into an artist’s dream of beauty and precarity, where paper figures live and die among splashes of paint.

Scrabble tiles with blue letters on white plastic tiles.
Image c/o Anna Langova

James Whitehead speculates on how concepts and language itself could become a prized economic good fought over by villages and nations.

Ahmad Al-Khatat talks of how he would give up much, but not his hard-won life experience from surviving war. Meanwhile, Norman J. Olson addresses the futility of armed conflict.

Mykyta Ryzhykh speculates on “graves without flowers” – the unremembered dead – and on “flowers without graves” – the potential of celebrations without death – and mourns the loss of human and even animal dignity in alienating modern life and warfare.

Jacques Fleury addresses the inherent systemic racism of being loved as a brand who can perform and make money for others, not as a person.

Daniel De Culla denigrates fascism wherever it may arise: Spain, Argentina, Italy, or the United States.

Biloldin Mahmudov outlines diplomatic etiquette, instructing aspiring diplomats while at the same time granting grace and dignity to the role.

Lightning striking in the background with a cloudy sky, rain, and a barren tree. Book open in the foreground.
Image c/o George Hodan

Stephen Jarrell Williams expresses hope for humanity’s and Earth’s future through his science-fiction poetry.

Michael Robinson speaks to the personal, spiritual and physical renewal he found after surviving open heart surgery. Annie Johnson also delves within the individual psyche, tracing a dream journey.

Kholida Toirjonova reflects on how one day she will leave behind those who may or may not properly mourn her, and it will no longer matter.

Salomova Dilfuza brings up the brevity of life and urges us to make the most of our limited time, while Sevinch Erkinova doesn’t regret a moment of her life, joyful or sorrow-filled.

Thank you very much for reading this month’s first issue of Synchronized Chaos. We hope that you do not regret even one minute of your read, and we encourage you to comment on the submissions and engage in dialogue with the authors and artists.

Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee

New York


Merriment of London walks
Sunshines of New York
The latte amore, my Paris
I bespoke every little detail
With my buckets in hand

I go down a little
Like white swans in 
Deep blue lakes
My overarching newly molten 
Blues 
My guitar friends like those
Who know how to tune
Into a little merriment
My forever Paris in his hand 
Lakes Cities Sheds Apple branches
Spread everywhere
Like a little kid 
She got her cake a blueberry almond pie
My London walking in evenings
Forevermore in bejewelled spectacle

I go up now
In New York
Amidst thousands hand clappings 
I found home
A little louder 
A little bird her squeaky quick
The little blueberry muffins
Understanding
London the pink world
My one day in London. 

Story from Oaoao Pbobo

Liza is 9 years old. She lives in a big house. She has an enormous room. She has too many toys and she has a lot of friends But Liza is not happy. She has a secret. She does not want to tell anyone about her secret. She feels embarrassed. The problem is that if nobody knows about it, there is no one that can help her.

Liza doesn’t write her homework. When there is an exam-she gets sick .She doesn’t tell anyone, but the truth is she can’t read and write. Liza doesn’t recollect the letters of the alphabet.

One day Liza’s teacher finds out she sees that Liza can’t write on the board.

She calls her after class and asks her to tell the truth. Liza says, It is true. I don’t know how to read and write. The teacher listens to her. She wants to assist Liza. She tells her “That’s OK. You can read and write if we practise and try together”.

So Liza and her teacher meet every day after class. They rehearse together. Liza works hard. Now she knows how to read and write.

Essay from Bahora Baxtiyorova

Abdurazzoq Khanov

ABDURAZZOQ KHANOV, a native of Uzbekistan

Today, one of my favorite people is “I chose Abdurazzak Khanvov.”

Despite his young age, Abdurazzoq has achieved a number of achievements (I’ll try to write it in a simple way). Abdurazzoq Khanov was born in Uzbekistan in 2006. He can be an example to the younger generation. Abdurazzoq scored 7.0 in the International IELTS test at the age of 15 and 8.0 at the age of 16. And now his IELTS score 8 (triple scores of eight)

Teacher of more than a thousand students and founder of online courses, author of valuable and useful books on IELTS.

In addition, Abdurazzok Khanov is engaged in marketing. Almost every month, he holds free seminars, trainings, master classes for his students in Uzbekistan, and shares his knowledge.

It should be mentioned that Abdurazzaq is a book lover, a well-rounded person and a good teacher for his students.

I wish Abdurazzoq Khanov, a native of Uzbekistan, only and only high flights.

“May all your goals and dreams come true Abdurazzak”

Author Bakhora Bakhtiyorova was born on March 21, 2006 in the Republic of Uzbekistan.

Journalist, monologist of international American and Kenyan magazines.

Poetry from Terry Trowbridge

Tiny Eschers After Rain

If one of these unrolled pillbugs looked up,
glassy, beaded dew would refract the light
from the sky and bend their world of vertical green lines
into spheres of shining blue.

Even if the pillbugs were too nearsighted
to see the geese above them
arrowheading their way north,
the potato bugs could hear them.

Honking-honked birds with their straight necks
crissing one season, crossing the next:
for centuries they’ve been stitching the north and south together
so that pillbugs can have a whole world
beyond their tiny patch.

BIO proving I am not an AI or bot:

Pushcart Prize nomineeresearcher & farmer Terry Trowbridge’s poems are in Pennsylvania Literary JournalMasticadores USAPoetry PacificCarouselLascaux ReviewCarminauntetheredProgenitorMiracle MonocleOrbisPinholeBig Windows, Muleskinner, Brittle StarMathematical IntelligencerJournal of Humanistic MathematicsNew NoteHearth and CoffinSynchronized ChaosDelta Poetry ReviewStick FigureminiMAGand 100more. His lit crit is in BeZineErato, Amsterdam ReviewArielBritish Columbia ReviewHamilton Arts & LettersEpistemeStudies in Social JusticeRampikeSeedsand The/t3mz/Review.  His Erdös number is 5. Terry is grateful to the Ontario Arts Council for his first writing grant.

Poetry from Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa

Light skinned Filipina woman with reddish hair, a green and yellow necklace, and a floral pink and yellow and green blouse.
Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa

Virgin Hearts

So shall be of every virgin’s desire

To be a vessel of one that’s light of fire

The honor of a promise made long ago

For a new world, the old to go

How can one discern the lie from truth

Unless one opens eyes to the harvested fruit

So many words of love and honor

Which one brings peace which one horror

Once a Messenger came to show the Way

Yet many hearers still are led astray

Now we wait for His second coming

Our souls are we truly with Faith preparing?

Once the Messiah came as a babe in a manger

Second one as a King, should our hearts shudder

End for evil wars and inhumane anger

No more of strife, fear, death nor danger

Yet are we still of pure virgin hearts?

The Web

Caught in a silvery web

Caressing soft silky love

Gentle spider I wonder

So great and yet so alone

Caught in the sky’s dark night web

Passion felt not fear but love

Moon of the Sun do wonder

So great and yet so alone

Caught in a hurricane web

Thunders and rains that I love

A lightning’s line to wonder

So great and yet so alone

Caught in a romantic web

Deeper went the roots of love

Now all gone yet still wonder

So great and yet so alone.

Success

Courage is to do

what others often fear

Take the first steps

on a journey not clear

Perseverance is a

huge burden one bear

Keeps walking on

failures without care

Confidence in self

believing one can do

Doubts are ignored

without further ado

What means of success

but sense of fulfillment

Gaining own self respect

beyond what they expect

strength built on Trust

friends to have a must

feet stand on with Hope

hang on at end of rope

To be a true inspiration

Set goals for motivation

Rise above expectations

Humble in all situations.

Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa was born January 14, 1965, in Manila, Philippines. She has worked as a retired Language Instructor, interpreter, caregiver, secretary, product promotion employee, and private therapeutic masseur. Her works have been published as poems and short story anthologies in several language translations for e-magazines, monthly magazines, and books; poems for cause anthologies in a Zimbabwean newspaper; a feature article in a Philippine newspaper; and had her works posted on different poetry web and blog sites. She has been writing poems since childhood but started on Facebook only in 2014. For her, poetry is life and life is poetry.

Lilian Kunimasa considers herself a student/teacher with the duty to learn, inspire, guide, and motivate others to contribute to changing what is seen as normal into a better world than when she steps into it. She has always considered life as an endless journey, searching for new goals, and challenges and how she can in small ways make a difference in every path she takes. She sees humanity as one family where each one must support the other and considers poets as a voice for truth in pursuit of equality and proper stewardship of nature despite the hindrances of distorted information and traditions.

Poetry from Oona Haskovec

Fingerprints

            Before I sat down today, I scored an orange, a cross over the green stem, and I wrestled with the peel to force it away from the flesh. I trimmed my nails last week to keep myself from picking at my raw fingertips, and I thought it was helping, until today when I felt a dampness on my skin. I looked down to see a bit of blood seeping into my cuticle. Not enough for it to be a problem, but it made my heart sink a little, because I thought I was past this. Now, when I plunge my thumb beneath the orange peel, between the seam I made, the acidic citrus leaks across the cracked skin and my hand pulls itself to my mouth to draw out the pain. The rawness has nearly migrated to the middle of my thumbprint, where it spirals into itself. I’ve been wondering, if I keep this up, will I get a new fingerprint? Will my one claim to individuality be rewritten? Maybe this is my chance for a new beginning. My fingers have been shaking all week and I do not know what to do to stop it. It’s not that I am anxious, I think it’s just something fundamentally wrong in my brain these days. I think that I am so lucky to have written evidence of the decline of my brain in this past week, but it makes me so sad. I could blame the start of the Spring Semester, or I could blame myself, but I think that it is both. Phoebe Bridgers in my headphones is not helping.

            I think I have moved on from the idea that growing up is causing all my problems, and it’s the sole reason I have been so sad. I think that I just need to get new friends. I need to wipe myself clean and maybe swim in the ocean and paint myself with sunshine, and wait for the good people to come to me. As it is right now, I love my friends so deeply it is killing me, and I cannot sit and wait for them to like me more. I think that the longer I wait, the harder it will be to say anything. What a bad sentence. I bet 300,000 people have said that sentence today. Today I stood in someone else’s kitchen, she made mac and cheese with the person that all of these things have been about, and I stood, in complete silence, wedged between the end of the stove and the wall. I have been making a habit of making myself small recently, and I am worried that it’s becoming an issue. I sit on the floor between two people I have known forever, and I shrink my legs down as small as they go. I sit in the darkness in the back of the car, listening, and not paying attention to my surroundings. When I go to say goodnight, what I hear from him is “I wish I was with my other friends instead of you.” Maybe that’s the real stupid sentence here. Or maybe both seem stupid because they are too much of the truth all at once. I have said all the wise things there are to say, I have made all the best, most thought out points ever said about one’s inner workings of the mind, and I think I have talked it all out. I am now left with the blind wondering. The silence that comes not from trying to think of an answer, but being without a question. That’s a good sentence.