Resilient Rising

 
In planning where present and future mix,

Sustainable aspirations with tomorrow’s fix.

We crave for harmony by nature’s grace,

May progress prevail in every place!

From lofty woods to oceans wide,

Sustainable goals will be our guide.

Development must thrive keeping in mind,

A sustainable sacred path  we need to find.

Renewable energies like sunbeam gleams,

We can cherish with sustainable dreams.

Let innovation flourish, let prudence guide,

For coming  generations yet to stride.

In the symphony of civilization, let’s play our part,

In sustainable development, a majestic art.

Communities prosper through restored balance,

Man and  nature persist with great reverence.

Eco-conscious minds allow innovative buds to bloom,

Treasures that we cherish for years are sustainable tombs.

Every intricate steps we make in this grand ballet,

Enables us removing darkness and arriving to a golden day.

Our  beacon of hope is ‘sustainable development.’

Bright future guided by this brilliant advent.

All the resources we have, are pretty scarce.

Green Energies are the tools, solution we searce.

In the core of progress, a whispered creed,

“Sustainable development, our urgent need.”

-------------------------------------------------------
turn down the lights
 

these are the nights

i should drink myself

to death

 

that's the problem with

starting out drinking

at a young age

 

it takes so damn much

anymore to even get

close to the end

 

it ain't worth it

 

play some music

 

turn down the lights

 

remember the last one

that ever wanted to

kiss you

 

if she only had a way

to get out of that shitty

marriage

 

who knows

 

soon the scotch will

switch to gin

 

that is what the inner

child likes to call

torture

 

iron sharpens iron

 

the shotgun in the

corner has dust on it

 

i suppose that says

more than even i

believe it does
----------------------------------------------------------
all hope is lost
 

there is a darkness around me

some days

 

a pain that lingers in the background

like an awkward kid at the prom

 

but as that pain lingers

especially as i have grown

older

 

every fucking twist and turn

 

the poems start to be written

in blood

 

all hope is lost in a fucking

sewer miles away

 

no one ever loved me and

i am painfully aware of it

 

on most days, i don't even

bother to fight off the demons

anymore

 

what's the point

 

death has been on my mind

for over forty fucking years

now

 

longer than some of my friends

ever lived

 

will it be a mirror or a spoon

 

laughing at the moon or loading

the bullets into a homemade gun

 

i still hide the knives in the bushes

just for old times' sake

 

last time anyone actually cared
---------------------------------------------------------
not your blood
 

trembling hands

covered in blood

 

not your blood

 

love rushes in

when reality

fades away

 

a final breath

amid chaos

and mayhem

 

you always knew

he wanted death

to be one hell of

a story to tell
-------------------------------------------------------------
eyes that would haunt a ghost
 

broken neon scattered

across the sky in another

one of my broken dreams

 

she always has brown hair

brown skin, a great ass

and eyes that would haunt

a ghost

 

somehow, she is in love

with me, an overweight

poet with a wicked tongue

 

if you know what i mean

 

hand in hand in the rain

 

laughing at nothing at all

 

her kisses are like a lovers

lament

 

often, she will try to kill

me in these dreams

 

on a rare night, we make

love in a parking lot

outside of some shitty

bar

 

i had a friend ask me

if i ever was in love

 

i told her your guess

is as good as mine
-------------------------------------------------------
welcome to love with a poet
 

she tasted like cherry cream soda

 

curves in all the right places

 

how much is this going to cost me

 

well, eventually your life

 

she showed her hand, hoping

for a ring

 

i was fresh out of ideas and excuses

to say no

 

i put a rubber band on her ring finger

 

she laughed

 

i said welcome to love with a poet

 

we might have lasted another month

or so

 

eventually, the laughs were glasses

being thrown against walls

 

fists into bricks

 

you know

 

the typical white trash utopia break

up shit on a saturday night in the sticks

 

i still think of her

 

i still have the scars


J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) is slowly dying in the suburbs, realizing that the story only gets sadder from here. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at Mad Swirl, Horror Sleaze Trash, The Beatnik Cowboy, The Rye Whiskey Review and Disturb the Universe Magazine. His most recent chapbook, Altered States of The Unflinching Souls, with Casey Renee Kiser, was published in August. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

You want me to forget you? 

Easy 
Force my eyes to look at things 
without seeing the sparkle of your smile 
Wipe from my hair the tenderness of your touch 
Remove the warmth of your hugs from my cold arms 
Teach your name not to slip from my tongue when I speak to someone else 
Yes, 
Find another beat for my heart 
And I will disappear like a snowflake when it touches warm ground 

If I didn’t love you, would I survive?
 
Regardless of the fact that I will die like everything on this Earth 
And my body will become fertilizer for the trees 
Or 
Some of it will stick in the tires of cars 
Or 
Maybe hungry birds will crave 
pieces of meat and attack my body with their beaks 
I will become abandoned rubble 
Brooms will kick me from one garbage can to another 
I say: 
Despite all the bad thoughts that may grow in my head 
If I didn’t love you, would I survive? 



Faleeha Hassan is a poet, teacher, editor, writer, and playwright born in Najaf, Iraq, in 1967, who now lives in the United States. Faleeha was the first woman to write poetry for children in Iraq. She received her master's degree in Arabic literature, and has now published 26 books, her poems have been translated into English, Turkmen, Bosnian, Indian, French, Italian, German, Kurdish, Spain, Korean, Greek, Serbia, Albanian, Pakistani, Romanian, Malayalam, Chinese, ODIA, Nepali and Macedonian language. She is a Pulitzer Prize Nominee for 2018, and a Pushcart Prize Nominee for 2019. She's a member of the International Writers and Artists Association. Winner of the Women of Excellence Inspiration award from SJ magazine 2020, and the Winner of the Grand Jury Award (the Sahitto International Award for Literature 2021). She served on the Women of Excellence selection committees for 2023, was a winner of a Women In The Arts award in 2023 and a Member of Who's Who in America 2023. She's on the Sahitto Award's judging panel for 2023 and a cultural ambassador between Iraq and the US. 

Thank you to Jacques Fleury for responding to our request for readers to offer their expertise to assist writers! He has a variety of published writing which he can refer people to on request and is open to being interviewed on these topics:

-History of Haiti, as an author on the subject & as a Haiti born  American citizen 

-Black/African American History, as a “black” man who grew up in America & as an author on the subject

-Race and Racism, as a Person of Color having survived & thrived despite lived experience of racism & as author on subject

-Mental Health/Illness/Wellness & Recovery, having had lived experience & as an author on the subject

Everyone else, if you have an area of knowledge where you’d be glad to be interviewed to help people who are writing about that topic, please reach out to us at synchchaos@gmail.com.

Also, our contributor Abigail George’s book When Bad Mothers Happen, released January 2024 from European publisher Morten Rand, is available for Synchronized Chaos readers to review. Please let us know if this interests you and her publisher can send review copies (and we can publish reviews!)

It is available on Amazon here, and here is a link to a promo video.

This month, our contributors figure out how to make sense of the universe, piece by piece.

Alan Catlin renders lists and catalogues into a form of poetry, building up objects from their components, like a brick tower or a floral arrangement. J.D. Nelson crafts auditory and visual snapshots that can stand for and evoke an entire scene.

Soren Sorensen contributes mixed media alterations of reality and existential poetry on making sense of the universe. Mars Brocke’s mixed media artwork plays with reality and perception in a nod to Alice in Wonderland. His poetry, also surreal, evokes memories and states of mind. Martha Ellen conveys the psychological changes induced by benzodiapine medicine and the fluidity and vulnerability of the human brain and mind. Mark Young creatively defines concepts through descriptive words that once explained something.

Christina Chin and Uchechukwu Onyedikam’s collaborative haiku focuses on and thus highlights the value of noticing small and in-between moments.

Saidova Mahzuna outlines methods for learning and teaching vocabulary. Mo’minjonova Diyora highlights the benefits of continuing to read and learn throughout life. Sevinchoy Sanat outlines ways to enhance education through technology as Ibrohimova Durdonaxon outlines different areas to focus on when improving childhood education. However, sometimes the old ways still hold wisdom: Daniel De Culla relates a humorous tale of a modern woman who chooses to go with folk wisdom regarding her health. Gregg Norman presents a poem from the point of view of a character who’s living life to the fullest, with health benefits as incidental.

Noah Berlatsky muses on the identity of Spock and on what makes intriguing literary characters. Jacques Fleury reflects on his personal and cultural identity. Mesfakus Salahin speaks to life, death, and personal accountability, redemption, and the meaning of one individual life. David Sapp relates a tale of responsibility, honor, and mailboxes. Ranjan Sagar reminds us that others’ poor character need not diminish our own. Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa addresses the tension between roots and wings, needing to fly free and wanting a stable nest, and reflects on the end of life. Paul Tristram speaks to personal growth, strength, and self-discipline while Sarvinoz Mansurova shares her family’s dreams for her and her own aspirations. Nigora Tursunboyeva’s short story celebrates adventure and finding one’s own way in life.

Gaurav Ojha reflects on how he will take nothing with him when he leaves the earth. Graciela Noemi Villaverde expresses the exquisite anguish of losing someone close to her. Engin Cir speaks to the grief, but also the indignation, of romantic heartbreak. Faleeha Hassan evokes the feeling of anxiety, being exposed and weighed down. Mykyta Ryzhykh conveys alienation, cold, and a halfway state between life and death.

Duane Vorhees speaks to creativity, sensuality, and history, evoking major and minor apocalypses that occur when people cannot or do not adapt to constant change. Taylor Dibbert reflects on how creativity can help him weather, if not avoid, his struggles. Z.I. Mahmud links the expectations of Samuel Beckett’s characters in Waiting for Godot to those of broader Western religious and cultural traditions.

Adam Fieled writes of our twin natures, the balance of masculine and feminine. Z.I. Mahmud examines the family relationships in D.H. Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers through a Freudian psychoanalytic lens. Karimova Sarvara Karimovna crafts an elegant and highly personal love poem. Kristy Raines speaks to the joy of a close loving relationship. Aytuvova Khurshida shares a love story that gets interrupted by life, but where the former partners always remember each other. Numonova Khonzodabegim poignantly shares the challenges and risks military families face.

J.K. Durick speaks to the harsh realities of aging and death and hunger, which can be eased, but not completely erased, by modern culture. J.J. Campbell’s poetry addresses aging and resignation while Dildora Toshtemirova reflects on the loss of a close friend or lover. Nosirova Gavhar’s short story combines two great human passions: love and grief.

Paul Callus and Christina Chin collaborate on a wide-ranging haiku collection evoking home, place, and time. Stephen Jarrell Williams captures many of summer’s varied moods in his haiku. Steven Croft watches a Civil War reenactment through the eyes of a modern veteran. Brooks Lindberg speaks to what we remember and what we forget, of grasping happiness despite reality. Rustamjonova Nodira celebrates the perseverance of Uzbekistan’s founders, leaders, and people, as Nuraini Mohammed Usman urges her society to carry out collective housecleaning and purge old enmities.

Murodova Sitora urges teachers to continue to learn and develop their skills and be accorded the respect and resources in order to do so. Abduraximova Muyassarxon relates how a dedicated teacher helped her regain her confidence. Rukshona Qiyomova outlines the many responsibilities of a teacher and the value of the teaching profession. Sevinch Saidova reflects on the value of education for personal development. Sushant Kumar highlights the need for teachers to serve as role models as well as impart intellectual information.

Majidova Sevinch pays tribute to the many dimensions of a mother’s love and care. Sobirjonova Rayhona offers a tribute to her sister’s care and friendship. Ilhomova Mohichehra takes joy in her friends and her lovely homeland of Uzbekistan.

Brian Barbeito revels in the easy intimacy of the conversation on a summer hike. Salokhiddinova Mohichehra examines the structure and function of nature close to home, the human kidney. Isabel Gomez de Diego contributes visual poetry of everyday life: dinner with family, a visit with a grandson, a tree in the yard. Kylian Cubilla Gomez takes closeup peeks at backyard chickens.

Sayani Mukherjee recollects a quiet morning outdoors under the blue sky, smelling the scent of trees with her child. Maja Milojkovic yearns for and finds reminders of her lover in every aspect of nature. Intizor Samandarova evokes the sky’s expansive emptiness in her poetry as Don Bormon poetizes about the vast variety of clouds.

However, nature is not always calm: researcher Les Beley speaks to the ecological impact of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Mahbub Alam describes the recent flash floods in parts of Bangladesh and the loss of life and property.

Farida Botayeva reflects on how quickly our circumstances and emotions can change. Ziyoda Murodilova considers how she will persevere in her life despite unpredictable feelings.

Finally, Christopher Bernard presents an old-style lyrical recipe for preparing hope in the kitchen.

The Fourteen Days

(for Tara)

(Easy Co., Mercury Rules Virgo and Gemini, and the Birds in the Trees)

We had fourteen days free and went to the forests each morning to walk. There was a car there that said, – EASY CO. and that was the car I happened to park behind one day, the last day actually. I took it as a Jungian synchronic sign as I used to buy Sgt. Rock comics often as a kid and his war group of soldiers were called Easy Company. I used to read each issue and also the letters of compliments and questions to the makers of the comic that they published at the back each issue. How I loved the adventure stories and the art, and one got to know each character of the comic through the years.

Inside the paths, the woodlands wild and whimsy driven and wondrous, I was walking with Tara, a Virgo. I am Gemini and we are the only two signs ruled by the same planet, Mercury, the fastest planet, the messenger, the one that denotes communication. The birds in the trees called out, and sometimes a squirrel ran away or a chipmunk. Verdant place. Kind atmosphere. A little too hot and humid those days for my liking. But the autumn would one day come. Still, we followed the idea of three S’s,…short, shaded, and slow,- when it was mighty hot. Sometimes a breeze came along. Sometimes not. Mostly empty area. But once in a while a solitary jogger, or an old couple, something. There, a heron that fishes for food by the still pond, and little groups of wild roses, where when their petals are absent the middle looks like a berry red.

I talked to Tara, about the things people talk about,- current events local and the greater world, plus spirituality, things like karma and dreams and journeys. Silence is okay also. Just the sight of the leaves. Or raspberries. Stones. The plain earth itself. The paths are often gravel but at times sand. Orchids are there, and ferns green and wild. I know where some snakes live, and I know all the trails through experience, time, steps. So does she. Little marshes and bogs,- the logs and an owl watching in the day if you are lucky. It’s not an ambitious worldly achievement, but there are worse things people do than nature walk. I loved the fourteen days. Talk walk see be. Believe contemplate meditate heal. Like love belong and dream. Ideas for writings, plus landscape photography, blossom often and well, yes blossom like the summer wildflowers. 

——-

You’re Not The Same Man As You Were Yesterday

When you are Brave enough

to Conquer your own Soul…

there’ll be no need or reason

to ‘Prove Yourself’

to anyone else ever again.

It is a bleak trial by fire…

a need to face the Dark,

wincing through the Strain,

but refusing to look away.

To remain painfully ‘honest’

and refuse the Devil’s bait

of ‘get out of jail free’ lies

and avoidance by excuses

… takes an Inner Strength

that most cannot comprehend.

You will find an Integrity

awaiting patiently for you

at the other end of Restraint…

Dignity born of Self-Control.

Courage from shouldering

Adversity without whimper

or complaint… and rising

back up onto Determined feet.

Blend-Complete

… I have loved you longer than mountains remember…

Never stop following me away from the Light

… Spiritually, we are just… Letting Go…

of 3D Safety Bars for a Magical-Interlude

… you can experience the ‘Drop’

without actually ‘Falling’ to Destruction.

Both sides of the coin… in one decision

… that ‘Missed Opportunity’ still Burns

because you are watering it with ‘Regret’.

In the 5D you flow so BRIGHTLY

that I wince whenever I am anywhere Near

the COLOUR of your Gorgeous Emotions

… which is so often… we blend like this

(close eyes to access this part of the poem).

Your Soul tastes like something

… I have always known… over and again,

Birth and Death are just Gateways back

to Alternative methods of… Touch and Union.

Seeds

(Not) Hawk and Vole

… ‘parasites’

are no Predators

… they are viruses.

I expect ‘Courage’

from Warriors…

but, when someone

Spring-Green…

riSES UP

after falling DOwn

… and, finds

‘Bravery’ buried

(Somewhere Deep)

inside of themselves.

I smile, applaud…

and (Silently,

Respectfully) wish

them well upon that

new found Path

… of Dignity…

that they are Walking.

Here, We Do Not Succumb, We Conquer

Hell yeah, do it again…

that ‘thing’ you were

so scared of

… Excellent,

go on, once more.

Listen to her

snoring slightly,

all cute and contented

… yeah, that’s right,

she was the one

doing the cartwheels

when you first arrived.

I remember her being

the 8 Of Swords

when awake…

and the 9 Of Swords

whilst sleeping.

Now, she’s all

gritted teeth

and Determination.

Oh, you’ll just know

when you’ve broken

the back of it…

because ‘applause’

becomes a distraction

and my encouragement

will merely annoy you.

Return To Glenda

When that ‘Feeling’

apprehends (heart

collar-felt)

… and I start

Falling… again…

I RAGE (quietly)

to myself…

Fighting a Battle

with Past Trauma

and Potential…

coupled with the

URGE to ‘Abscond’.

Up A Gear

Pivot into ‘Breaking

New Ground’…

trying to ‘Outdo’

keeps you

LOCKED behind

another’s Ingenuity.

Spearhead…

and, there is no

‘Competition’ only

(Fresh) Adventure,

and ‘Dynamic’

Pathways to ‘Glory’.

Be the ‘Buzz’

and ‘Noise’… with

-out participating…

apart from with ‘Art’.

© Paul Tristram 2024

The Slipping Of The Net

Catharsis and ‘The Butterfly Effect’

… your MIND ‘Balancing’

between [Main] Chapters…

“Ah, you’ve discovered corridors

and back lanes… through…

and around… the ‘Obvious’, good

you’re both Learning and Growing.”

I could Not have done THIS

without ‘Disappointment’

… the Tenacity and Determination

was just me Fighting Onwards…

the Real Fuel was Accepting Loss

whilst Refusing to be Beaten-Final.

Hate, Vindictiveness, Bitterness

are Traps, but also Energy Blocks

… the Universe can only WORK

with You through Clear Channels!

Flow and Adapt… Sun Seeking

vines manoeuvring towards Light

… we only Progress backwards

to ‘Fix Things’ to help the machine

(us), Propel Forwards more Fluidly.

Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems and short stories published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet. His novel Crazy Like Emotion was recently released upon the public by Close To The Bone Publishing.