I remember some theatrical 
films of newspaper leadership
 calling out,
   "Stop the presses!"
       Why?
  Well, because a great new
          headline was surfacing. 

        I think the awestruck tribe 
     of Earth Humanity is having 
   such a moment. 

      I guess my interest is,
What is that New Headline 
     that the Presses are being
         Stopped for?  
    What's the Story 
in the Silent Room?

       When I Read in front
of a Group, I like the 
attention that Silence cultivates
in the tribal convergence of
individual Attentions. We as 
individuals each have freedom
to listen or not. Interest 
is a choice. 

      Right now I sense 
a quiet and await
 the integral voices. I don't mind 
Good News or Bad News that leads to 
Greater Successes in the future. 

      Amongst the General commotion
I await that Sort of Voice which
I feel integral to Better 
decisions & Better choices.   

      I like that.



by John Edward Culp 
January 24, 2023

The Thinker’s Last Thought

One day the world decided

they no longer are in need

of philosophers and poets,

those who defined the times

long after their demise

and gave birth to generations

of thinkers who are now

obsolete like stone scarecrows

chiseled in the form of forgotten

gods and fallen angels

despite their words and ideas

being occasionally referenced

by self-professed professors

to sound smarter than those

who they engage in conversation,

as the world indulges on dancing

sapiens recommended by their phones,

heads that once stared down

at the folded pages of books

with worn vertabrae and paper

used for fascist bonfires.

.

Did Nietzche ever lie awake

in bed and think the world

would have gotten so rotten

that they would decide that

his services were no longer

needed?

The first instance of skin to skin contact in years

Sometimes we just need a touch,

most will run far from where you are

even when you approach with arms

in the air, attempting to hug them

as the candied man in a van or diseased

beast that they assume you are,

and will scream about stranger danger

or unwanted touches in a scene to

escape faster if they think you are only

in need of a moment of human contact,

a single handshake, knocking knuckles,

the highest of fives, an arm clenched hug,

so you disguise your need for feeling with

a single bump into them and an exchange

of apologies, or a swift brush that

the distracted stranger doesn’t notice.

SHUT UP AND WRITE

One thousand chimpanzees,

chain-smoking cartons

of extra tar cigarettes,

seated on a wooden stool

chained to rows of writing desks

each with a manual typewriter,

bundles of flammable paper

and bottles of inhalable white-out,

couldn’t write everything that

artificially intelligent machines

without arthritic fingers or

a wasting mind could generate

without a keyboard

and a few keywords.

When All the King’s Men Never Stand Again

The men who use the world

as a chess board,

the only move to not lose

at the game of life

is to flip the board over

rather than quit or submit.

The Closed Door

A man sits in an empty room.

There are no windows, and only one door.

Closed.

He doesn’t move.

He doesn’t search for an entrance.

He doesn’t search for an exit.  

He doesn’t know whether it is locked or not,

or if he is trapped behind walls of immuration,

just because he doesn’t know whether he should

push

or

pull.  

the eiger sanka

thinking tonight
I am not this brain

in the darling garden
eating cowboy bread

in this underlined winter
I am the burrowing owl

scrabble tile: alpha
a noise now nothing


---



plum (understood)

combo

shampoo your skull

I use the same salt as the funneling crow
I am that old gold senator from the moon

combo


--


the promise of a new marvel team-up

the absolute reality

we were
went worm

para
keet

the moss inside
I went through the wrong door


--


crabapple could-be

& yes
I know

bio/graf

J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words in his subterranean laboratory. His poems have appeared in many small press publications, worldwide, since 2002. He is the author of ten chapbooks and e-books of poetry, including *Cinderella City* (The Red Ceilings Press, 2012). Nelson’s first full-length collection is *in ghostly onehead* (Post-Asemic Press, 2022). Visit MadVerse.com for more information and links to his published work. His haiku blog is at JDNelson.net. Nelson lives in Colorado, USA.

Hi all, we will combine our two February issues into a single issue, out February 15th. Thank you very much for your patience, we shall return!

February’s first issue of Synchronized Chaos Magazine will go live on February 5th. This is because I have a bad case of Covid and am in bed.

Welcome, everyone, to 2023’s second issue of Synchronized Chaos! In this season of renewed energy and resolution, we are excited and ready to leave our mark on the sands of time.

But first, our friend and collaborator Rui Carvalho reminds us about our Nature Writing Contest for 2022.

This is an invitation to submit poems and short stories related to trees, water, and nature conservation between now and the March 2023 deadline. More information and submission instructions here!

Chimezie Ihekuna poetizes about his quest to leave a positive legacy despite whatever befalls him in life.

Randall Rogers explores our self-concept, how we perceive ourselves versus how others see us. J.K. Durick goes farther with the theme of cultural and personal identity, questioning what it is in a name, a photograph, or a sport that comes to define us.

Channie Greenberg’s photos show off windows on buildings of various sizes and shapes. Leslie Lisbona recollects an afternoon swimming with her older brother, a sibling relationship that expands her view of the world.

J.J. Campbell explores less amusing places where our minds can wander during periods of forced inactivity. Meanwhile, Ubali Ibrahim Hashimu takes joy in books, comparing his earthly love to the joy of learning and literature. Zulfiya Shomurotova relates the mixture of emotions she feels on seeing rainfall and uses that as inspiration for her writing.

Robert Fleming’s art integrates human eyes, mathematical formulas and tree rings to form thoughtful compositions, while Mark Young’s work connects words, form and color, with the letters of the alphabet forming figures of beauty. J.D. Nelson connects real and imagined words to create a sonic experience of form and rhythm.

Stephen House builds his sense of compassion by immersing himself within nature and enlarging his circle of connection to other beings. Z.I. Mahmud writes of how poetry, art, writing and film can help us make sense of and take action on abstract matters such as melting ice caps and climate change.

Daniel De Culla also speaks of other beings in his amusing tale of the relationships among dogs in a Spanish village church.

Jim Meirose contributes a meditative ambient piece on a church receiving a mysterious package.

Donna Dallas writes of the passing of time, what we remember and what falls from the grasp of our minds.

Sayani Mukherjee draws on cultural memory by exploring the history of a sunken ship, viewable only through a submarine window.

Emeniano Acain Somoza, Jr. provides a snapshot of a time and place, a convenience store scene in an island locale that endured colonization.

Corey Cook evokes winter, retirement and disuse, and the losses of war in his haiku-adjacent work. Mykyta Ryzhykh touches on the dislocation and disembodiment brought about by war and homophobic prejudice. Chris Butler warns of the destructive and wasteful trends within human society that may bring about an apocalypse.

Santiago Burdon also explores how we process grief, and the need to consider the impact of our memorials on other life around us.

Jelvin Gipson encourages us to love our close family now because death will arrive in the future.

Michael Lee Johnson speaks to the frailty, but also the promise, of the human experience and the creative process.

May we use the time we have on Earth to scratch, not simple dividing lines, but patterns of wisdom, intricacy, and beauty, into the sands which surround us.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
in the winter blues
 
stuck in another
waiting room
 
heat raging in
the winter blues
 
coat rack full
 
my imagination
hoping something
young walks in
soon
 
i don't think it
wants to dream
about the wrinkling
skin under three
layers of clothes
fresh out of some
vacuum space
saving bag
 
although,
it certainly has
dreamed of worse
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
plenty of happiness
 
honesty hurts
 
laughter doesn't
cure shit
 
money can buy
you plenty of
happiness
 
true love does
have a fucking
price
 
cheaters always
get ahead faster
 
and death is
a relief
 
it's up to the
user if it is
sweet or not
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
i never asked to be born
 
on the cranky
days
 
i remind myself
i never asked to
be born
 
then i'll think
of my father
and the worms
six feet under
the ground
 
the anniversary
of the day we
put that fucker
down there is
coming up
 
suddenly
 
a smile
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
past any sense of reason

there's a darkness 
deep inside of me
that every blue 
moon or so wants 
to come out and 
play

stir some shit up

push the envelope 
well past any sense 
of reason

this is where i always 
tend to hold back the 
desires and do my best 
to just play it cool

but one of these days

they might as well get
the riot gear ready

madness has no timetable
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
high heels
 
the sound of high heels
on tile floors
 
scratches that itch i will
always have in the back
of my brain
 
of a long-legged queen
digging those heels in
my chest
 
with a skirt on short
enough that i can enjoy
the view as i embrace
the pain

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know better. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Yellow Mama, The Beatnik Cowboy, Terror House Magazine, Horror Sleaze Trash and Cajun Mutt Press. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)