Blood Honey (originally published at Fugitives & Futurists)

Pulled 
into breath,
lingering 
and damp
under nostrils’ slow 
b   u   r   n,
wet tips of tongues
melt, dart,
and slide
into syrupy tangles,
furious 
with hot spit and
exhales, sweet as
red pomegranate.
Your little gasps
(my little deaths)
fire cutting teeth
and hungry lips,
drawing us 
in,
spitting us
out—
blood honey in a syringe—
into the heavenly hell 
of this hypodermic love—the sugar 
in my veins. 



Blue Light (originally published at Terror House Magazine)

Against an old Chevrolet on Maudlin Street, I smoke a cigarette—hard—chuckling at the hisses and howls of alley cats beneath the butcher shop’s broken neon sign. They flick their tails and prowl about, pestering fellas headed home to cold wives and cold dinners, straight from the misery of their long evening shifts. Persistent, with purrs and claws—smooth as cream— they graze oily pant legs (and thighs) for want of a rub…or two. Flicking my smoke at the sidewalk—a cherry-fire explosion drawing the glow of hungry eyes—a young, new one to the corner catches my eye, preening her strawberry-yellow hair, distracted by night shadows that stretch and duck in the periphery. Lighting another smoke, I call her over with a “Psst”, motioning with my hand, as tracers from a flaming tip pull heads from her pounce in unison, to and fro. Cautiously, she turns to me, as the sign overhead begins to flicker blue, casting a harsh pallor upon angled faces with its undead light. Motioning, again, she slowly heads my way—eyes shining and features soft. “What’s tonight’s special?”, I ask, as she pulls the cigarette from my newly shaken fingers and takes a drag. Letting out a long sigh, she blows a steady stream of spite—sweet—into my face, and jabs, “A pound of flesh with a side of soul. Hungry?”, looking as if she’d heard that line one too many times. “Nah,” I answered (a burn taking over my cheeks), “not tonight.” Then I turned and walked away down Maudlin Street, wishing I knew her name, loving her.


Medicine (originally published at Dumpster Fire Press)

You
are my medicine
when things are 
fever-pitched
fucked-up
shit
dismantled
glitched.
When calm
disperses
like cigarette smoke 
in fan blades, 
overhead—
tarring popcorn ceilings 
and textured walls
with burns and
invisible drops
of carcinogenic rain.
What better salve
for the poundings 
in my chest—
palpitations
consternations
vascularizations
reformations
indemnifications
of a life, juxtaposed,
away from those eyes
that mouth
that touch of skin, yours,
the sedation 
of cool breath 
on hot forehead
and the combing
of fingertips 
through currents
of sweat-matted hair—
this world I know. 
You 
are
my
medicine.


Neon Gods (originally published at Cephalorpress)

Sacred footsteps 
of pilgrims and 
street PrOphETS 
atop
piss-stained lottery tickets and 
dirty hypodermics—
like rose petals, strewn
under maidens’ tender feet—
pave the way
to playing card Meccas
beyond doors
to salvation/damnation,
below fiery eyes that cut
the night (and souls) in two
with gazes and blinks 
(but never sleep). 

Quite the price 
to pay
to cross these fickle streams
that run
sacrificial red 
with self-severings 
of thigh bone and fat,
savory-sweet 
and spiced with lotus wine—
offerings 
in want of burning
on conjured stages and 
electric alters
for Vanity’s 
spectacle.

How divine 
the honied stench
of auto-vivisections (splayed out
for all to see),
making followers and 
the blue birds in flight
forget 
appetites and tastes for
eyes (for eyes) and teeth (for teeth)— 
for the sake of ounces (of fame) 
for pounds (of flesh)—
like cold Lethe 
and her gentle lapping,
smooth, of jagged rocks
upon Hell’s bitter shores.
 
Let us pray 
(for emergence
from this opiate haze
and a quick flip of the switch).

Amen.



Discoloration (originally published at Cajun Mutt Press)

Hopscotch squares
and street flowers,
drawn with sidewalk chalk,
‘round castles that sit upon
sun-dried patches 
of brown cloud,
stretch across concrete slabs
like ghosts of crime scenes
pulled from tabloid headlines
of an old Daily Post.
White
with electric pinks, blues, and yellows
etch hopeful prognostications
(like blades)
on crumbling slates,
amidst the stink
of fermenting cigarette butts
and backwash
from broken beer bottles—
a chill before the storm.
How long
before the next hard rain
that washes away the stuff of dreams
in Technicolor runoff
for parched gutters,
leaving the street, again,
to cry lifeless tears,
splattering upon stoops
and stone-cold petals,
that turn brown in the sun?

SOUNDS OF MIRTH

My heart dances with the whispering winds
Swirling, twirling and fluttering its wings
I enjoy gleefully the soft breeze caressing
Listen to the melodies sweetly resonating

The blue oceanic sky welcomes all days
The glorious sun is shining its crimson rays
Puffy clouds billowing above high
The eagles are soaring and taking flight

As I strolled leisurely in the magnificent park
Beautiful landscapes captured my heart
The essence of flowers embalms me
The songs of the birds serenade me

Not far away, I hear the waterfall gushing
As I move closer, the crystal water is enticing
Drops of water kiss me and splashing
The cool atmosphere is refreshing

Sounds of mirth fascinate me with pleasure
I relish the peaceful moment in leisure
Silently, enjoy to the music of nature
Reverberate the soul and free from pressure.


YOUR GLANCES

I read the message in your sparkling eyes clearly
Your piercing glances penetrate my heart deeply
I want to feel your warmth and embrace you  tightly
In wondrous moment, I'll never let you go easily

You light the spark and my bonfire heart is flickering
You have touched my soul like an epitome of spring
You mean everything to me and so much more
I have found my love, you're what I have been looking for

I love you profoundly, no words could ever define
You have inflamed the feelings in this heart of mine
You have made each day so wonderful, I'll always remember
Your intoxicating fragrance drenched me all over

Your beguiling eyes drowned me with ocean of love every time
Let's spend the rest of our lives the whole lifetime
Let the rhythms of our hearts play the music
We will sing our love song with romantic lyric

Your alluring beauty creates ripples in my heart every day
You kindle the passion of flame and makes me sway
Your ecstatic elegance stirs my mind blissfully
Rapturous love of my soul belongs to you only.




Eminent Author/Poetess Ms Lilian Woo hails from Malaysia and is the author of the book 'The Pearl Wonder'. She has received numerous international awards for her soulful writing. She is a Chief Administrator with Motivational Strips, Editor for Writers Tribune, and Chief Representative for the World Nations Writers' Union (WNWU). She has been appointed as the National President in Union Hispanomundial De Escritores (UHE) 2020 for Malaysia and also nominated and entitled H.E. Ambassador General of National Peace Unison ( India), International 2019.

Energy

Energy, the name of my friend
An excellent room to live in the soul
How exciting! I live and die
The taste of the fruit I enjoy every morning
Or like the rose I frequently run and lost in fragrance
By kissing and hugging connected in the magic bond
Always infatuated by  
No more suiting than this mystic drug.

Chapainawabganj,  Bangladesh
27 July, 2023


 
Sheikh Russel in Memory

It was 15 August night, 1975
Darkness and panic seized around
Here and there blood was rolling on  
Stained on the wall and floor
In the 32 Number House at Dhanmodi
10-year-old Russel cried out in fear
"Take me to my mother"
Russel sobbed on
"We are taking you to your mother"
The assassins fired him bullets soon
The little boy, the innocent cry
The lovely flower face fell down to death
It was raining then
Today the rain pours in every Bangalees' heart
The sound of bullet still rebounds ----------
The people of Bangladesh stand up with a vow
"Amar Sonar Bangla, Ami Tomai Valobasi"
I love you through all.

Chapainawabganj,  Bangladesh
12 August, 2023

Welcome to a fresh month of Synchronized Chaos! We’re exploring reality from different perspectives, experimenting with different takes and different frames.

Mark Young’s poetry evokes reframing, repurposing, contrast, and juxtaposition.

Ellie Ness contributes a sketch of cultural exploration by contrast: an Englishwoman abroad in Iraq under under Saddam Hussein. We see a sketch of domestic life, the different spheres of influence of men and women, the power relationships and norms.

Caleb Ishaya Oseshi’s black and white photography illustrates ordinary people of Nigeria. We see them living everyday life, walking, bicycling, carrying children and other objects in vibrant street scenes.

Isabel Gomes de Diego photographs a barbecue, inviting us to imagine the people who will gather to enjoy the feast.

Ahmad Al-Khatat speaks to romantic love, grief, and the desire to connect across cultural and physical differences.

Sa’ada Isa Yahaya conveys the physicality of grief, the pain of a nation stored in a person’s body. Fortune Simeon illustrates how grief transforms and colors our everyday perceptions. Ogwuche Bella’s speaker attempts to love despite overwhelming personal and societal grief.

Shamsiya Khudoinazarova Turumovna sings a story of grief, for a nation and for a person. Wisdom Adediji buries grief into poems, as writing is both a way to hide and to express feeling. Taylor Dibbert reflects on a man losing a beloved dog.

Mykyta Ryzhykh writes with the feeling of a cold winter’s barren landscape, addressing death and our search for meaning. Christopher Bernard references the whole cycle of life with his piece on a fallen tree in someone’s backyard. Azemina Krehic evokes a history of wartime loss in her piece on a fruit that never ripens. Jerry Durick explores how we cope with different types of global or local disasters.

Duane Vorhees probes how our minds seek purpose and consciousness behind random and arbitrary forces in society and nature. J.D. Nelson confronts us with sets of words that seem haphazard, inviting us to co-create potential meaning.

Texas Fontanella describes an uneasy peace among roommates in different states of sanity. Lauren McBride’s structured poems highlight confusion and chaos of various kinds, mental and horticultural.

Aklina Ankhi expresses union with nature, even as it’s being crushed by the growth of civilization. Rezauddin Stalin joins in with nature’s other creatures in individual expression through his poetry.

Channie Greenberg photographs various kinds of colorful fish while Sayani Mukherjee revels in the intoxicating sight and scent of white roses in summer.

For Don Bormon, the wind inspires thoughts of freedom and adventure. John Culp references snowmelt on a glacier to convey his joy at opening up emotionally to love and personal growth.

Mahbub Alam talks about love in the age of climate change and extreme weather while Kristy Raines explores how love can help us see and appreciate different sides of people and Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa relates her quest to live to the fullest, to find and understand true love.

Annie Johnson reverently speaks of long-term love and stillness under the moonlight while Jerry Langdon sends up cleverly crafted and structured poems about life and love.

Texas Fontanella’s offbeat love poem concerns falling for someone and not being able to explain why.

Anna Ferriero gives a poetic take on love and creativity, drawing on fairy tales. Kristy Raines shows how love can help us see and appreciate different sides of people.

Tanvir Islam describes a deep love and intimate connection with another person while Shakhriyo Kurbanova regales us with a lyrical paean to her Uzbek homeland and Borna Kekic raises a verbal flag and shows his pride in and affection for his Zagreb hometown.

Mantri Pragada Markandeyulu sings exuberantly about the joy of love and life while Daniel De Culla’s funky photographs reflect humor, observation, and a bit of social commentary.

Noah Berlatsky offers up a funny take on poetry that isn’t up to par.

Ian Copestick’s humorous poetic speaker faces mortality with ambivalence while J.J. Campbell reflects on getting old and feeling upstaged and left behind by modern society. Meanwhile, in another piece, Copestick presents some people who celebrate life in the golden years, standing proudly outside with a Bentley.

Mirta Liliana Ramirez writes of the comfort and pleasure of nostalgia in our later years. Mesfakus Salahin urges people to go forth and live with gusto at any age.

John Grey looks at how people from various generations perceive each other.

Bahora Bakhtiyorova points to how men who embrace traditional male gender roles can live them out in a positive way as protectors and providers and role models for their sons.

Gustavo M. Galliano illustrates the progress of dementia through a first-person tale where a man remembers emotions but not the names or categories for relationships.

Sabohat Saidova’s story concerns the importance of caring for and remembering family while Dilfuza Dilmurodova offers up love and respect for her mom and Wazed Abdullah crafts poems of tribute to his mom and his dad.

In Chimezie Ihekuna’s story, parents’ sharing their own former failings and becoming vulnerable encourages their son to get back on the right path. Meanwhile, Toshmatova Madinaxon Kodirovna highlights ways young people are changing the world.

Shoshura Husaynova compares international educational systems and suggests ways the Uzbeks could learn from the Finnish. Xudayberganova Mehriniso sends up pieces on school and the value of education while Ravshanova Gulnoza Shamsiddinovna surveys technology for learning and teaching foreign languages and Dildorakhon Eshmurodova gives thoughtful consideration to the debate between paper books and e-books.

Z.I. Mahmud explores Western literary criticism through a piece examining the story structures employed by British author E.M. Forster in contrast to those of other novelists.

In another academic-adjacent piece, A. Iwasa’s review of Claire Dederer’s Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma explores the age-old question of whether we can separate flawed artists and their abusive behavior from their art.

Doug Holder satirizes the now-problematic figure of Archie Bunker, reviving an old caricature for comic effect.

Muhammed Aamir’s story illustrates how people cannot ultimately free themselves by abusing or denying the humanity of others. It is in resisting that temptation that we can reclaim personal agency.

Slavica Petrovic reminds us of how we can find ourselves in different stories as we grow.

Maja Milojkovic celebrates the power of change and renewal while Emina Delilovic-Kevric speaks to creating a joyful home amidst the scariness of the world. Eva Lianou Petropoulou conveys her wishes for hope, peace, and comfort and Elmaya Jabbarova’s strident piece urges us to get busy making a kinder and more peaceful planet.

We hope the diverse palette of work showcased in this issue inspires you to reach out and view the world from a new perspective.

I Drink I’m In Love

I drink I’m in love, and it makes me kind of nervous to say so

Said she fell from Earth, but I think she must have hocked her halo

know I’m love, but it makes me kind of nervous to say so

Say she fell from Earth, but I think she gonna escape though

Said she’d be a CEO but she finds the pay low

Darkest alley and still she makes the stage glow

mesmerise with shadows like Plato

grab the times and mould them like Play doh  

Collective offence the opposite of NATO

Whenever lock eyes, after, there’s a rainbow

This one’s hard, and all of the lanes close

And she’s still spent a week in those same clothes

Drink I’m love, but it makes me kind of nervous to say so

Said she fell from Earth, but I think she mustve hocked her halo

know I’m in love, and it makes me kind of nervous to say so

Said she’d be a CEO, but she finds the pay low

Air around her slithering like Draco, on the Facebook blocks like JLo  

Walking on stilts when she’s told to lay low

Not much point when you know the chain’s close

Still look twice when you see the rain’s falling slower

And the shadows are coming out to make us all supper

And after, shake our heads into each other’s

See what everyone got going’s cheap nothing

But on this tale, I just keep munch

-kin

I drink I’m in love, and it makes me kind of nervous to say so

Said she fell from Earth, but she Facebook blocks just like she JLo

Don’t know, I’m in love, and it makes me kind of nervous to say so

Said she’d be a CEO,

                                   but I think someone just hocked her halo…

Archie Bunker opines about Pellegrino Water

​**Archie Bunker was a character in the 1970s TV show, "All in the Family." It was a satire about a white working-class man-who was an unapologetic racist

This ain't your Polish meathead Poland Springs
this is what comes from what you call
Virgin Springs.--
hey—nobody gets laid there
they are happy just drinking water
may Jesus strike me dead!
It's like seltzer
but it is not made by the hebes --
them people make it like a sucker punch
christians make sure there is no
 bitch slap
of dem bubbles
here-- there are 
no troubles...
She is long, lean and green
a tall glass of water
a regular queen
hey!
you know
what I mean?

Co-President of the New England Poetry Club

Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene   http://dougholder.blogspot.com
Ibbetson Street Press  http://www.ibbetsonpress.com
Poet to Poet/Writer to Writer  http://www.poettopoetwritertowriter.blogspot.com

Doug Holder CV http://www.dougholderresume.blogspot.com

Doug Holder's Columns in The Somerville Times

https://www.thesomervilletimes.com/?s=%22Doug+Holder%22&x=0&y=0
Doug Holder's collection at the Internet Archive   https://archive.org/details/@dougholder

House

I painted the house white this morning
Into a silky fluttering vision of life
Joyful, with giant hands
I leave pieces of white
Where did all the living birds from my home go?
Maybe into black grass with flashes of futility
Where will the spirits of life fly that have no name?
They make me love to hug you invisible,
But present, in the dark night
Who longs forever to stay scared?

Emina Đelilović-Kevrić (Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina) After studying the b/h/s (bosnian/croatian/serbian) language and literature at the Philoshopical Faculty in Zenica she got her master's degree on the subject „Memory construction in the South Slavic interlinear community: typical models of the war camp experience in literature“. She is the author of the poetry collection „ This time without history“ and the short stories collection „ Erased lives“. Her collection of poems „ My son and I“ is awarded by the Publishing Foundation of Bosnia and Herzegovina in 2021. In 2022 she won the second place in the international literature competition „ Isnam Taljić“. She is the winner of the second award for the best short story of the regional literature competition „Zija Dizdarević“ 2022, and she won the first place on international literature competition „Nastavi priču“. 2023. she won a third place on international poetry competition „Ossi di Seppia“ Italy.