HIV-AIDS
H ow can one person condemn another
I gnorance does superstitions gather
V irus to fear, no right for spirit to shatter
A cquired illness reason to ostracize in society
I ndifferent to afflicted's pains and tragedy
D evoid of compassion and acts of humanity
S hame on us AIDS knows no diversity
Whatever reasons there may be
Infected ones need not our pity
We are needed to show empathy
To be just there for them our moral duty
One can't be infected with mere touch of care
Support and love definitely can share
Put your feet in their shoes if you dare
Not just risks but their plight be aware
Butac Memories
Dad's from South, with fields of sugar, corn and rice
Mom's from North, with mountains, cliffs and rivers rise
I was born and raised here in the city of vice
Grew up with telephones, teevee tubes and toys from mall
Bored of movies, fastfoods and buildings tall
Hotels, gymns and 50% sale stall
Still I would have loved to be in the mountain
Bumpy road ride through rocky terrain
On hand cart, who needs horses with brawny
Uncle in the rain
Rudimentary lifestyle, no electricity strings,
Bamboo pipe water from mountain springs
Ghost and monster scares round wood fire rings
Forget about land hole stairs.
Luck for balance, go home in pairs
House slumping up the trail, no gates- no cares
Cousins with practical tricks under sleeves
Care for itchy oozey barks and thorny leaves
Faires and mermaids Grandma's voice weaves
Break the fast by the firewood oven before ten
Lunch of river froglets and exotic dish, Aunt Mary's kitchen
Dinner higher up the mountains with Uncle Eugene
Just a couple weeks of rare vacation
Back to Manila lowlands for education
Tears and clinging hugs for lifetime devotion
Mountain ranges surreal nostalgic
City born life a childhood tragic
Land just below the skies is pure magic
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.
[Originally published in Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self]
Objective: Seeking a position to be over, under or next to someone;
Willing to fill any opening or position…
Education: Certificate of participation in “group” activities
Experience: Been around the block a few times…
Skills: Can touch my lower stomach without using my hands
Achievements: Never been arrested for seX crimes
Hobbies: All things done in the dark
References: See attached list for numbers of satisfied customers!
The Only Way to See the Stars…
By Jacques Fleury
[Originally published in Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self]
I often wonder why I smile even when sad
Thudding of my heart hearkening back
To recidivist scars running my fingers
Over the scabs abrading the cut of the
Blade and making my way in a world full
Of hurt people who hurt people
A pejorative and abortive choice
So smiling instead of snarling helps me
Remember even if bliss turns to distress
To see the stars is through the darkness…
Possible Causes and Effects of Cited High Blood Pressure
By Jacques Fleury
[Originally published in Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self]
If your Father died of heart disease
If you have Sleep Apnea
If you have irregular sleeping schedule
If you are overweight
If you have a late night binge eating habit
If you take caffeinated Energy Supplements
If you Drink Caffeinated Tea and Hot Chocolate
If you Use heavily salted spices like Chicken Bouillon Cubes
If you’re not getting enough “regular” cardio exercise
If you’re inconsistent with your daily meditation practice
If you ruminate about the past: its afflictions and perceived malfeasances
If you harbor resentments regarding sociopolitical and racial injustices
If you feel constant stings of Minority Stress through Micro Aggressions of racism
If you are BLACK!
Random Musings about Submission
By Jacques Fleury
[Originally published in Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self]
Let’s just begin in
medias res…or in the middle of things…
You see, we had artistic differences,
I was the artist and they were indifferent…
“Thank you for your submission…” but I never
Submitted!
At least not in the way that they wanted me to;
If I wasn’t fiscally challenged, I would board a jet plane
And head for a luge run at Saint Moritz Switzerland,
A psychotically dangerous sport;
Maybe they’ve driven me to psychosis!
Luge, a sport rooted in Germanic tribal wars against the Romans;
Bored aristocrats on vacation looking for a distraction;
Although I am distracted by my own tribal war here in America,
I am nothing like a bored and puerile aristocrat…
This landed me in a mawkish quagmire of self-pity;
In my mind I absconded into a journey of devilment to topple my torment;
Writing can be an exercise in discernment that you are inevitably
Obliged to submit for judgment; that is if you expect to make
An impact other than justifying your own derangement due to
Maladjustment…
“Your writing is not a good fit for our publication” was the nadir of my existence!!!
What did I write to warrant such specious offerings you may ask?
Well I wrote from the voice of an ignoble omnivorous muskrat
Whose sexual identify is non-binary;
Both a strumpet and a sthumpet!
And as an exponent of socio-political justice wrote hither and thither
An apocalyptic reverie about mutant muskrats;
A germane allegory or political fodder for the purpose of unveiling
pejorative prejudice;
Deciding to introduce a foreign element into an established
Yet insecure environment so to demonstrate the ensuing behavior
Of those who deem themselves superior;
The muskrat representing the only POC or person of color
In an all-white order where WASPS Rule!
WASPS being descendants of
Wealthy Anglo-Saxon Protestant Males
Feeling their long history of imposing their cultural values and
Socio-political power over “the other” that is
women and minorities…
Threatened by a neo-progressive era geared towards changing the status quo;
Clamping down on their suppression in retaliation to the
Nascent and unrelenting movement towards socio-political
And economic progression and equality
In this American Nation!
“Thank you for your submission
But your work is not a good fit for our publication…”
Really?!
So here I am, randomly musing about not being chosen…
Am I just a titular poet?
A deuteragonist in my own story?
When do I get to be the protagonist hero despite my AFRO?!
When do I get to be the plucky character in epics akin to
19th century iconoclastic South African king Shaka Zulu whose heroic story depicted
How he united tribal factions to create notable states and powerful African identities…or even
Anglo-Saxon and French epics like Beowulf together with Le Chanson De Roland?
Or even the archetypal Mesopotamian great:
The Epic of Gilgamesh;
Regarded as the earliest prototypical literature and the second oldest religious text…
“Your submission is not on par with our vision…”
Really?!
Even in the midst of global
Dissention and division?!
So we had artistic differences…I was the artist and they were indifferent.
But I decided to muse about it to manufacture
My own moment,
Fashion my own non-contentious and all-inclusive literary faction,
Where ALL postulatory voices are worthy of publication;
Because the acrimony of exclusivity is
A damnation!
I will continue to submit but NEVER to their behest for
Submission!!!
Jacques Fleury is a Boston Globe featured Haitian-American Poet, Author, Educator and literary arts student at Harvard University online. His latest book “You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self” and other titles are available at all Boston Public Libraries, the University of Massachusetts Healey Library, University of Wyoming , The Harvard Book Store, The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, amazon etc… He has been published in prestigious publications such as Muddy River Poetry Review, the Cornell University Press anthology Class Lives: Stories from Our Economic Divide, Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene among others…Visit him at: http://www.authorsden.com/jacquesfleury.
Once again, Synchronized Chaos Magazine expresses sympathy for all the people affected by the recent violence in the Middle East and shares the hope for a peaceful and just resolution and for justice and equality for the region’s many groups of people.
In the spirit of what we do here, we are sharing author Michael Lukas’ recommendations of fiction and poetry from both Israelis and Palestinians that he and others believe will help people understand the issues and the cultures in the region.
Please feel welcome to suggest other titles.
We are also aware that Afghanistan has suffered an earthquake that has killed thousands of people. We invite people to help however they can and suggest the Afghan-founded and led organization RAWA which assists those of all genders and racial backgrounds in the country. They are seeking people to translate articles on their website and help in a variety of ways.
Also, we stand with the people of Burma who are continuing to undergo war and repression. We encourage people to assist through groups such as Doctors Without Borders. And we acknowledge the great conflict and displacement crisis in Sudan and encourage people to donate books (textbooks included, everything except murder mysteries and encyclopedias) to schools in Africa through Books for Africa.
This month’s issue looks at life from different vantage points: from speakers who are fully engaged in their surroundings and from others who overhear or watch from a distance.
Brian Michael Barbeito shares the experience of sitting alone and catching bits of nearby conversations. Michael Tyler relates encounters with random people at a party. J.D. Nelson reflects on the sounds he hears at night a men’s homeless shelter.
Christopher Bernard’s poem’s narrator finds herself mistakenly at her own funeral, overhearing snatches of gossip while entombed in a coffin.
In his photography, Daniel De Culla focuses in on objects and creatures that are slightly out of place. In Mark Young’s poem, a postwoman brings the slightly-askance world to the speaker’s doorstep. Nathan Anderson plays with words and letters in a rhythmical manner reminiscent of electronic music while Thomas Fink contributes unique horseshoe-shaped concrete poems on memory and change.
Taylor Dibbert writes of his speaker’s loss of London the dog, a moment he never knew would be the last with her.
Qosimova Parizoda speculates on the psychology of a short lived butterfly. Do they grieve the brevity of their existence?
Jerry Langdon evokes mortality in a philosophical, tragic sense through the symbol of a gathering of ravens, while Zahro Shamsiyya speculates on the world after her future death.
Others focus in, deeply absorbed by a place or setting.
Isabel Gomez de Diego sends up photographic vignettes of fall country life, people, leaves, and apples. Brian Barbeito’s photography is a selection of natural moments, a mix of panoramas and closeups. Monira Mahbub celebrates the natural and human beauty of her country, Bangladesh.
Mesfakus Salahin describes the poetry written in the shapes of clouds, while Annie Johnson reflects on night’s blurring the edges between imagination, sentiment, and reality. Azemina Krehic meditates on danger through a surreal image of a mulberry tree.
Wazed Abdullah highlights the beauty and charm of music. John Culp metaphorically illustrates how the world of natural and human-built objects metaphorically calls to each other and communicates.
Graciela Noemi Villaverde loses herself and her bearings in the vast fiery energy of her creativity.
Kristy Raines highlights how true love fosters her personal growth and helps her become her best self, while Samuel Dayo evokes the intense emotions that come from romance. Faleeha Hassan depicts a love that consumes a woman’s life yet perennially remains a fantasy. Elmaya Jabbarova wistfully reflects on the tender feelings that can come with love and separation while Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa rejoices in romantic and family love that shines like a light in a sea of cruelty.
Jim Meirose sends up a story about how we relate to the physical, animal parts of ourselves.
Denis Emorine’s new collection A Step Inside, reviewed by Cristina Deptula, probes the inner struggles of an artist to create.
Many others are involved in their worlds, yet still observing themselves and others from a distance.
John Grey reflects on uncertainty through his humorous poems on life’s caprices. Noah Berlatsky considers his relative importance in the poetic sphere with humility.
Jerry Durick’s poetic speakers attempt to figure out their travels in various humorous ways.
Duane Vorhees writes of living within this world and seeking transcendence beyond it, while J.J. Campbell speaks to mortality and nostalgia and Dilnurabonu Vaisova sends up a poem of love and longing. Niginabonu Amirova looks back on the games her grandparents played on the playground and the life lessons they learned from them.
Muhammad Ubandoma writes of natural and supernatural forces which people can’t escape. Shamsiya Khudoynazarova Turumnova expresses a sadness so deep she wishes to destroy her own poetry. Aasma Tahir relates a kind-hearted soul’s escape from a city that had hurt them, while Aklima Ankhi watches the state of the world with concerned vigilance.
This frame of mind has the advantage of allowing contributors to see the world as it is, yet speculate on alternative possibilities.
Maja Milojkovic urges all humans to heed the call of Mother Nature and keep the Earth clean and healthy. Mahbub Alam laments political violence and environmental destruction. Amanda Dixon describes her trip to a nature sanctuary along Georgia (USA)’s Ocmulgee River’s longleaf pine forests in great detail and reflects on how she and others can reconnect with nature. She further develops this theme in a poem on how embracing natural jungle environments helped heal post-traumatic stress syndrome for children of soldiers home from war.
Parvej Husain Takuder outlines some hypothetical positives and negatives of artificial intelligence technology.
Muhammad Ehsan offers a guide to leadership that inspires people towards competence rather than rote obedience.
Santiago Burdon conveys the continuing pull of past bad habits and wishes for better for himself.
Odina Rustamjonova resolves to make the most of life and keep a good attitude in hard times, while Terna Nicholas dreams of a better day in the future. Manzar Alam holds out long-awaited hope for a kinder world amidst terrible social injustice and violence.
Begim Khadjieva outlines a moral dilemma on friendship, family, and hospitality, while Rukhsatbegim Hojieva shares a story about the virtue of being good even at risk to yourself. Ochilova Nozima speaks to the importance of respect and love for one’s elders.
Sevenchbonu Ozodova contributes an essay on how girls and women need education and skills to ensure their security. Bakhtiyorova Gavkhar outlines the educational programs of a leading university in Uzbekistan.
Yahya Azeroglu describes the accomplishments of Turkish human rights campaigner Nergiz Muhammedi and her qualifications for the Nobel Peace Prize. Susie Gharib pays tribute to dead Middle East human rights activist Rachel Corrie while reflecting on loss, regret, and silence.
Daniel De Culla draws on a dead pigeon as a metaphor for civilians who die in wartime, while Taofeeq Ibrahim issues a strident call for peace in his nation. Mykyta Ryzhykh evokes the tragicomedy of life and death in light of modern warfare while Stephen Jarrell Williams speaks to death and desolation and to the day when the powerful who wish harm to others will be brought down. Sayani Mukherjee highlights the preciousness of peace, how working through conflict and finding common ground can be even more difficult than love.
This issue suggests that there’s a place for both spectators and participants, both for those who actively take part in life and those who stop to listen and learn first. We hope you enjoy these reads!
Once upon a time, there was a nobleman who had three sons. One day he called them to his presence:
My sons, I want to test you. Travel for a month. Spend this one month of your life doing good deeds useful to the people.
He said, “If one of you has the greatest virtue with your good deeds, I will give him the very valuable ring on my finger.”
His sons scattered everywhere and went on a journey. After traveling for a month, they returned to their father. The father asked his eldest son:
My son, what is the greatest meritorious deed you have done this month?
Father, one day I was passing by a garden street alone, and a very valuable diamond fell somewhere. I took it and immediately handed it over to the relevant authorities. The head of the administration thanked me, wrote this certificate in my hand, found the owner of the diamond, and handed it over to him. What I did is a proof of my rightness, isn’t this action the greatest virtue?
answered the eldest son.
His father said:
You did the right thing, my son, you did your duty. But this diamond is not your personal property.
Then the middle son spoke:
One day, I was walking on the edge of a big ditch. At that moment, I saw that a young boy had fallen into the water and was in danger of dying. I immediately threw myself into the water and pulled the child out of the water with great force. I saved him from death and handed him over to his parents. His parents were very grateful to me and blessed me. Even though my life is in danger, I think I deserve your reward for what I have done to save a young child from death.
Father holding his son’s hand:
Good son. I congratulate you; you felt your heart filled with joy just because of this beautiful work, so that is not a reward in itself? – he said.
Then the youngest son bowed to his father and said:
Father, there is a person who always looks at me with hostility and does bad things. Although I have done him no harm, he follows me and even waits for an opportunity to kill me. Last night, I saw my enemy sleeping on the edge of a very low cliff. If he’s sleepily tossed to and fro or woken up by a loud noise, he may fall into a precipice trying to get up. I slowly went to him without making a sound. I held him very carefully and slowly started pulling him towards me. Having escaped the danger for a long time, I continued on my way with high spirits and joy.
His father, filled with tears from his son’s good work, hugged him and kissed him on the face. And he said to his youngest son:
Long live my son! You have the right to receive my reward, because the greatest virtue in the world is to do good for evil, – he prayed, putting the precious ring on his son’s finger.
Bad Habits and Old Addictions
Just when I think I've finally lost them
Convinced they'd never find me again.
There's a knock at my door
Heavy fists pound harder and louder
Yelling for me to let them in
Bad Habits and Old Addictions
Constantly ringing the doorbell.
The Ding-dongs wakes up my weakness
The flaws in my willpower now exposed
To the uninvited influence wearing down my resistance
Bad Habits and Old Addictions
I buried them away years ago
Must've dug the grave too shallow
They've escaped and returned
My resolve losing faith to temptation
Bad Habits and Old Addictions
Our association never matured into a friendship
More of an acquaintance of inconvenience at best
Stained with bad blood
Not one breath of trust
Exhaling air of incessant suspicion
Bad Habits and Old Addictions
Where do I find the courage
to tell them
I'm more than the sum of my mistakes
I'm not the man I once was
No longer devoid of self-respect
Or a festering scab on God's face
Bad Habits and Old Addictions
Now my subconscious is questioning my decision
Sending them away may be a mistake
What's the harm in extending some hospitality
After all they've come such a long way
I'll tell you why they've gotta get Because one is too many and a thousand is never enough
Now head on down the road
get your ass out of town
Don't ever think of coming back
I've fought a long fight to save my soul
Surrender no longer an option
Confidence in the faith to stay true to my convictions
Vete Lárgate
Bad Habits and Old Addictions
Today the post-
woman brought
me the Lone Ranger
& Tonto. Except the
Lone Ranger is
now no longer alone
because he's got
in touch with his
inner self, & Tonto
is a psychic from
the subcontinent &
not a Native American
sidekick. Damn these
shades of gray. What-
ever happened to
black & white, even
when / in color? I
blame Alan Ladd,
playing Shane with
that small man syn-
drome. & Coop, Gary
Cooper, the tall silent
one who learnt to talk
& went off to mix it
with the likes of
Picasso. Wasn't a
virgin Quaker bride
enough for him? You
could see it coming
as it neared high noon.
The hero as a man in
black. Do not forsake
me, I begged him. Ob-
viously he didn't listen.
Today the post-
woman brought
me an unemployed
dancing monkey. Put
me down as some-
one who can't tell
a lymph node
from a lung, but I
think there may
currently be a search
on for organ donors.
Today the post-
woman brought
me the winter
of our discontent,
the Arab spring, &
the summer of love.
Plus an apology
from the bookshop
for being unable
to fill my original
order, “The Fall,” by
Albert Camus.
