Benzo Brain #1 *

“It’s a chemical imbalance

in the brain.”  Ad copy from

Don Draper. I bought it. An

almost mouse scampers

across the floor. A Native

woman with saucer eyes.

She’s nice. Someone in the

kitchen plays You Suffer by

Napalm Death. A firefly smiles.

Who knew? Adorable. Doc

says up dose for two weeks.

Stars in the living room. Kurt

Cobain hovers. “Hi. Miss you.”

“Mommy I can still crawl!”

Big Pharma cashes in.

2024

DECREATION

It is one moment past midnight

on the 8th day of morning.

Our Styx ferries become consumed

with the burning of bibles.

Seven heavens eighten themselves

and shrink and infinitize.

In this silent Babel

the sciencemagic we learned

while head over heels upside down

from hanged Marut and Harut

is finding and losing its feet.

Apocalypse collapses.

Ahuramazda unities

vanish darkness into bright.

Medusa’s pale horse Pegasus

comets Quetzalcoatl;

Fenris swallows the Eighth Archon

and then pukes and pukes him out.

The set sun eludes prediction.

No west exists to rise from.

CARNIVAL OF LOVE

The bearded lady

has two lovers,

the apeman and the geek.

Their sex is crazy,

peeling rubber

on high wires and the street.

When bearded lady

becomes mother

to a new circus freak,

the lucky baby

has two others

to help him feel unique.

FOWL WEATHER

Six ducks in a pond

swimming through a warm sweet spring rain–

pond is duck is air.

STILL STRANGERS:

EROS

IN EROSION

After years

of wear, she would sew

with those sharp dead

beads, new thoughts

into the threadbare pattern of memory,

and he solder

his older, darker, thoughts into place….

… Long ago…

they learned to slaughter

their eager laughter and tear

their deepest tears out of each’s other,

they taught themselves to utilize their exquisite words

like hamhamhammers and broadswords–

then, their mutual wounds

they wound all about their lives like poison ivy.

(Each just one more bothersome

clone to the other…)

But

There had been a time

,once,

before the tiny

mutiny,

when they were still strangers

to anger,

when they could lie naked,

sun-baked upon the jurassic sands

or beside the slow hearth,

unearthing new treasures from their together,

when, in some safe

cafe, their yes

-eyes could swallow entire

their sweet menus

of Venus

and for many an hour

pour their love

from lip to mouth like milk from a pitcher to a glass.

But that time passed…

Strangely

angel-like, two

naif

waifs

blown

down,

unable to unwind all the ivy accumulation

in a rugged wind – they just

shrugged, unable to face down

the demons of their facetious selves.

(This is not simply

to imply that they weren’t determined.

But, over time, stubborn assiduity becomes undermined,

especially when connubial cement lacks

reinforcement.

So, by fragile grapevines, over

tangled ravines,

the values they were hanging onto

kept changing.

They were unable to forge a structure anew

or to forget old collapse.

Neither the heights of their dear science nor

the weight of alerted conscience,

And not Keats, and certainly

not Yeats,

could keep the crevices in their isolate selves

from inventing the devices of their together’s undoing.)

Beached,

they discovered the sea:

inequal parts nausea and mystery.

HIGH COUP

O moon, so distant…

I’m not smokin’ in Tokyo,

my poem will not fire.

“Revolution bursts

sunlight on stained stainless steel:

your yolkcolored hair.”

Night’s vaunted Shakespeare:

just flaccid Little Willie,

cold to geisha stars.

“Nestraw hair – egg’s eye

blue – honeyed limbs; trunkhugging

bearcubeMe:     climbing.”

Sake enflames verse

(you say), arouses rhythm,

kindles rhymes sublime–

mine (old drunken whore)

fires up unsuccessfully,

sucks relentlessly,

till we fall asleep.

And Basho the monk remains,

red raw poem limp, still.

…

IN SOLITARY 

1. SAMIZDAT*

 Writer’s craft: manacled to conviction 

           like any zek to his sentence, 

            like a blatnoi to a pen

: assaults its own position 

: like a gaybist missionary, assassinates its friends

: like any other virgin –

just another bloody period, 

and another conception ends.

2.  YOUR BODY TELLS THE HIGHWAYMAN 

If prose is just a page running across your face, 

poetry is the line lying between your thighs.

Your body tells the highwayman’s short story life:

The drama of poems at the point of conception, 

but just one more hackneyed form in execution.

3.      LIFE/SENTENCE

 key in the cake –

(in music, truth hid?)

oh,

the poet’s prison is 

the rhythm of his

poem 

                        starved, 

                        scarred – 

he makes his

break

*inspired by Solzhenitsyn’s Gulag Archipelago

…

My dear sister

He filled my beautiful life with joy

He brought meaning to my life

Dear sister like my mother

He gives love early and late

She always held my hand like a sister,

My umbrella is my sister, my shield is my sister

Have a little laugh because of me

Dear sister, dear sister.

he asks me every day

how are you sister

She is kind like my mother

And he looked at me day and night

Beautiful faces like my mother,

Dear sister, I have

Sweet words like my father

My supportive sister, dear.

Sister Dilnoza, stay healthy always

Be a legend to the world

Let everyone know you, Sister Dilnoza.

May their names spread throughout the world.

Let the whole world know, my beautiful sister,

Let them feel your sweet love

You fill the whole world with joy,

May those who see us be envious.

May God protect us always

May we have many sisters like you

carrying you on my shoulders

I will take you on a pilgrimage.

You just laugh with joy, that’s all

My beautiful sister is the light of my life.

Remember me once a day

My life is beautiful sister.

Thank you dear Dilnozam 

i love you 

He always protects me

His kindness shook the world

I am Sobirjonova Rayhona, a 9th-grade student of the 8th general secondary school of Vobkent district, Bukhara region. I was born in December 2008 in the village of Chorikalon, Vobkent district in an intellectual family. My mother and father supported me from a young age. I am also interested. I started writing in my 3rd grade. My first creative poem was published in “Wobkent Life” newspaper. In addition, many magazines were published in America’s Synchaos newspaper, India’s Namaste India magazine, Gulkhan magazine, Germany’s RavenCage magazine and many other magazines and newspapers. my creative works have come out. I actively participated in many contests and won high places and received many gifts. Creativity is my precocious nature. I am very interested in creativity and enjoy every line. Of course, I will become a great person and bring the name of my country Uzbekistan to heaven, God willing!!!

FIT

A cocktail party cruiser,
a broker working the room, 
cornered me and asked,
“What do you do to keep fit?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m active
but not for the sake of fitness.
I hunt and fish.”
“Oh,” he replied, “I run.”
He looked at his watch,
touched his wrist as if
to check his standing heart rate,
already looking for another prospect.
“For What?” I asked.
“To keep fit, of course.”
“For what?” I repeated.
He paused, smiled nervously
and cleared his throat.
“So I’ll live longer.”
He was ready to bolt.
“For what?” I asked again.
He drifted off, shaking his head.
He only had wrong answers


Gregg Norman lives and writes in a lakeside cottage in Manitoba, Canada, with his wife and a small dog who runs the joint. His poetry has been placed in journals and literary magazines in Canada, USA, UK, Australia and India. 

Mailbox                                                                                             

On occasion this distant memory surfaces at curious moments. I’m unsure why. However random and peculiar, I suppose the event, over fifty years ago, had some significance for my young mind. One night when I was six or seven, in my pajamas after my bath but before bedtime, close to Hop on Pop and Green Eggs and Ham, we are all in the kitchen, Mom, Dad, me. I’m eating either cereal with six teaspoons of sugar or Nestle’s Quik chocolate milk and Oreos with even more sugar. There may or may not be a brushing of teeth soon. There’s a knock at our door and there’s the neighbor kid, the Klines’ oldest teenager sheepishly apologetic, informing Dad that he just hit our mailbox with his father’s car at the end of our long, washed-out lane. I worry about getting a letter tomorrow from Patty, my girlfriend. He is opening his wallet offering to pay Dad for the damage – the few dollars he has now and the rest on payday.

Dad said later that he could have kept on going and no one would be the wiser, except maybe the father if he looked closely at the fender or grill. But he stopped and did the right thing. This made an impression upon Dad and apparently it made an impression upon me as at that age anything that would impress Dad was certain to impress me. Here was the outset of an honorable young man. Dad told him not to worry about it – to put his wallet away. The next day Dad and I went to the hardware store, bought a new box, and affixed our numbers to it. Dad showed me how to dig a post hole, setting a flat stone in the bottom so the wood would not rot, righting the post with the level, then tamping the dirt down around the base to firm it up. I used this knowledge a few times for my own mailboxes at the end of my own driveways. When I began driving, I was lucky not to destroy any mailboxes, although I do recall scraping against a city limits sign on the way to school – but there was no one handy to confess to. And fortunately, so far, none of my mailboxes have been demolished by a neighbor.

First of all, an announcement on behalf of Synchronized Chaos Magazine. We’re going to help authors with research by setting up a section where readers and contributors can volunteer to provide information to authors who want to do research for their writing projects. So, if you have knowledge or lived experience in some area and are open to answering questions for someone’s project, please email us at synchchaos@gmail.com and we’ll add you to our upcoming list!

Now for this month’s issue: Self, Others, Source. As a teenager I attended a spiritual retreat where the leader encouraged us to think of our relationship to ourselves, the people and other beings in our lives, and our Source, the higher power, however we understood that. He commented that when we got in trouble, we could imagine sending out an S-O-S and looking within, to our social networks, and our faith.

Some of this issue’s contributors engage with the self.

Bari Robinson’s excerpt from An American Daughter of Brown describes the inner strength and struggles of a young civil rights-era Black girl claiming her sense of self.

Sandra Rochelle describes a healing journey where a woman chooses play and joy over self-conscious judgement.

Rus Khomutoff speaks to dreams, the surreal, and the subconscious as Texas Fontanella’s pieces express energy, tension, and action within the artist’s mind and Mark Young sends up swatches and swathes of color and texture. J.D. Nelson experiments with thought bubble bursts of words.

J.J. Campbell reflects on memories and disillusionment and the fragility of hope as Elan Barnehama offers an exploration of how an introvert and an extrovert cope with tragedy.

Jonibek Miraxmedov presents the poetry of youth: first love, optimism, dedication and determination, and joy in life. Z.I. Mahmud examines the psychological and emotional world of T.S. Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.

Mykyta Ryzhykh speculates on the competing twin powers of passion and destruction, Eros and Thanatos, sensuality and fear and death. Prosper Isaac draws on the dual nature of the cultural symbol of flowers, joy and grief, weddings and funerals, the happiness and sorrow making up all of our lives.

Salihu Muhammad’s piece reminds us that like ripples in a pond, our attitudes and character shape how we view the world.

Other work addresses the human and natural world around us.

Kylian Cubilla Gomez’ photography captures moments of delicacy, small creatures or objects, and encourages us to pay attention to our world on a micro level.

Marisa LaPorte describes a quest for peace of mind and peace within a family. Taylor Dibbert continues to reflect on a divorce and all it portends for his poetic speaker. Abdel Zahra Amara’s short story, translated by poet Faleeha Hassan, comments on the difference between pretty sentimentality and actual love.

David Sapp reflects on adult friendship and what makes a good friend versus a good colleague as Quinn’s evocative story highlights the power of childhood friendship to change a life and remain in a person’s memory for years.

Talia Borochaner finds the poetry in childbirth, gardens, and kitchens as the heart of much existence. Abdullajonova Zurakhan’s poem laments a caring and faithful uncle who passed away. Nosirova Gavhar writes of a young ballerina shaped by the love and encouragement of her father. Ilhomova Mohichehra celebrates the sweet fruit and memories of her home village. Tursunova Sarvino brings a scientific analysis to an aspect of childcare, the development of children’s speech abilities.

Akmalova Zebokhan Akobirkhan contributes a whimsical love poem about the disorientation she feels due to her emotions. Maja Milojkovic reflects on different types of sentimental sweetness in life and cautions us to enjoy with discretion. Mesfakus Salahin evokes the various senses in his love poem.

Raquel and Brian Barbeito reminisce on the joy of living with seven dogs throughout their lives, each of whom had a unique personality. Sushant Kumar merges with both the Earth and a lover in his poem. Sayani Mukherjee highlights the power of the sun in an evocative summer pond scene while Wazed Abdullah reflects on the calm of a moonlit night. Naeem Aziz’ poem draws on natural imagery to highlight the inner and outer beauty of a woman he loves. Maftuna Rustamova’s work urges preservation of the natural environment as Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa calls on people to step up amidst their trauma and exhaustion to heal Mother Earth.

Madinabonu Mavlonova outlines methods to improve seed germination in a plant biology laboratory. Ilnura Ibrohimova points out the importance of food safety and safe preservation of food as part of a strategy to feed the world.

Jonibek also suggests ways for Uzbek businesses to adapt to technological changes and increasing environmental awareness. Muquaddas Maxmarejabova outlines the many practical and social changes that came with industrialization.

Isabel Gomez de Diego’s work captures history still standing: a concrete cellar and castle from centuries ago and a dinosaur museum. Shodiyeva Mehribon asserts the pride she takes in her heritage and homeland of Uzbekistan as a young person shaping her country’s future as Alina Ibrohimova offers a tribute to the nation’s Olympic athletes.

Sitora Otajonova outlines the promise and problems of social media for contemporary users. Pat Doyne expresses her hopes for civil dialogue, equality, and progressive values.

Fatima Abdulwahab’s piece is a lament for a lost home and family in a war-torn country while Faleeha Hassan describes war as a hungry, predatory, grotesque animal. The poetry of Abdulrasheed Yakubu Ladan highlights the corruption often present in politics when there is a great power imbalance. Mahbub Alam draws on the metaphor of a large bird being chased away to depict the recent student revolution in Bangladesh. Daniel DeCulla’s poetry highlights how even candidates praised with lofty rhetoric and slogans will not be perfect or bring peace to our world. Naeem Aziz writes of students taking to the streets to make things right.

Anila Bukhari encourages writers to bring hope to those who struggle and bear witness to the world’s tragedies. Martha Ellen’s poetry muses about wide-ranging effects of trauma on a personal level, finding compassion for aggressors as well as victims. Komron Mirza laments the decline of dignity, ethics, and compassion in his society.

Bekzod Ergashev highlights the problem of youth unemployment within Uzbekistan and its effects on the economy as well as on youth confidence.

Nigora Tursunboyeva’s short story highlights the pain of impoverished orphans in Uzbekistan and the fragility of all our lives. Sonmin Yoongi urges people to live lives of compassion, dignity, and faith.

And still other contributors consider matters of faith, the divine, and sources of ultimate purpose and meaning in life.

Stephen Jarrell Williams’ poem evokes the light of truth coming through the darkness.

Jacques Fleury reviews Lori Shiller’s The Quiet Room through a philosophical lens, as a memoir of finding purpose and meaning through community and service while living with disabling mental illness.

Amirah Al-Wassif renders family tragedies and spiritual searchings into surrealist poetry while Kahlil Crawford reviews the eclectic, evocative, and ethereal stylings of musical artist Pinhdar.

Duane Vorhees probes and turns over thoughts about religion and art, history and youth, in his poetry.

Of course, facets of our existence cannot so easily be divided into three boxes. Many contributors’ sense of self is shaped by their communities and cultures, many times meaning and purpose in life comes from serving others, and it becomes possible to live in a healthy relationship with others when one is strong within oneself.

So, while these dimensions inevitably overlap and influence each other, they provide a general guide to understanding ourselves and are a source of artistic inspiration.

Harmful habits that damage the mind

Today, as every field is becoming more perfect, harmful habits are also increasing. At the same time, the only thing that is required from humanity is awareness, vigilance, and at the same time, not obeying the ego.

As the other side of the coin, as new technologies are created, various flaws and dangers are increasing. Accordingly, efforts are being made to ensure security.

Nowadays digital technologies are the most developing field. For example, we can receive and transmit information on a global scale through social networks. We can make different friends, have multiple online achievements, communicate with loved ones from a distance through lighting-fast communication, in this regard, earn money from home through various business methods, and gain a profession through useful sites and applications. 

We can find useful aspects. But despite this, various fake clone sites, programs, dangerous streaming channels, hackers are poisoning people's brains and forcing them to band their heads against the wall. 

If we give an example, the above situations cannot be avoided by every person. In this case, a person should not be a slave to ego, he should be careful. At the same time, people suffered a lot, some managed to get out of this way, and some did not. 

Those who have received appropriate training are working to ensure security and raise awareness to fight against these factors.

That's why people are advised to always use social networks wisely, check their legitimacy, and not lose security. When this is followed, I think you will have a peaceful and enjoyable life.