Quotes and links we like

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Thoughts on the Synchronized Chaos project, quotes and links we like:
“An interdisciplinary art, poetry, literary, science, nature, cultural issues, and travel writing webzine. The brainchild of an international group of contributors and volunteer editors/creative facilitators. Inspired by the mathematical concept of chaos theory, the study of how to effectively model and predict the behavior of systems which seem random, but are in fact highly influenced by initial conditions not yet fully understood.
 
We’re working with the idea of not-obviously-apparent logic that seems to emerge spontaneously from randomnity. A way to facilitate and promote something we hope will bring enjoyment and inspire thought, creativity, and empathy among readers without imposing strict guidelines or themes upon our contributors.  
We welcome contributions from new and established writers and visual/musical artists, and focus on quality, craftspersonship, and building relationships with and among our readership and the contributors. We aim to publish a wide variety of work in a variety of styles – photo essays, digital artwork, formal and free verse poetry, short fiction and nonfiction, humor, well-written, unique personal experience and memoir, and effectively argued perspectives on pertinent issues.
We especially welcome those contributors who may not yet have found a home for their work in the publishing world, who prefer the process of creating to the process of selling and promoting their work.
 
Synchronized Chaos welcomes our readers and encourages people to peruse our offerings. We strive for professionalism, to treat contributors and readers with respect, to offer enjoyment, pleasure, and beauty, and inspire and motivate thought and creativity and love.
Link to the Wikipedia entry on Chaos Theory, which contains an accurate but much less readable link to a definition for Synchronized Chaos: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chaos_theory
 
Link to von Williams’ The Lark Ascending, a piece of music I believe matches the intentions for this project: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oz1hWcPkods
 
Ray Bradbury on writing:
 
And what, you ask, does writing teach us?
First and foremost, it reminds us that we are alive and that it is gift and a privilege, not a right. We must earn life once it has been awarded us. Life asks for rewards back because it has favored us with animation.

So while our art cannot, as we wish it could, save us from wars, privation, envy, greed, old age, or death, it can revitalize us amidst it all.

Article about freedom of speech in the Russian Federation: http://www.amnestyusa.org/document.php?id=ENGEUR460232008&lang=e 
 
Amnesty International’s Artists for Amnesty website http://www.amnestyusa.org/about-us/artists-for-amnesty/page.do?id=1031004&n1=2&n2=22 
 
In the near future I will see about linking Synchronized Chaos up with the Artists for Amnesty, as we do support freedom of speech and reasoned dialogue about potentially offensive matters rather than censorship.
San Francisco Coalition on Homelessness’ Street Sheet publication, written and produced in part by the homeless themselves and in the spirit of the original underground ‘zines: http://www.cohsf.org/streetsheet/
 
Listings and reviews of many art galleries in San Francisco’s South Mission/Valencia Street area (and if you come up north please let me know and I’d be happy to give you a minitour of some of my favorite city art and cultural spots!) http://www.sfmission.com/galleries/
 
SF Museum of Modern Art at http://www.sfmoma.org/ (many online features accessible for free to those all over.)
www.dontforgetburma.org (art in the service of human rights, people all over the world have found creative ways to get across the message that the Burmese deserve their liberty from the military junta.)
 
Free Battered Women www.freebatteredwomen.org (artwork and stories of incarcerated domestic violence survivors, the organization publishing the inmates’ work supports a campaign to review the sentencing of people locked up years ago before we allowed testimony regarding domestic violence/self defense as a mitigating factor in courtrooms and who would undoubtedly receive much lesser sentences today.)
www.freerice.org (vocabulary quiz, cash donated to the UN food program for developing countries for every correct answer.)
 
www.ivorytowerzine.com – a fellow webzine, this one has regular themes and more of a specifically art and literary focus. Very good, interesting submissions. Please feel free to resubmit work Synchronized Chaos has printed over a month ago if they allow it.
One-stop carpool information site, compiles info from Yahoo, Google, Craigslist, etc. www.gotalift.com
Click for free every day to support various good causes: www.thehungersite.com and www.accse.net (social projects in Mexico)
Cheap ($25) live opera performances in San Francisco’s Legion of Honor museum: www.pocketopera.org
The Chabot Space and Science Center, where I volunteer and which hosts amazing, detailed exhibits on space travel, nebulae and galaxies, and the solar system, and which offers telescopes used by professional scientists for free public viewings: www.chabotspace.org
NASA’s Astronomy Picture of the Day: http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/astropix.html 
National Novel Writing Month – public relations group inspiring people’s creative projects, get off your rear and finally get that novel on paper/laptop screen! http://www.lettersandlight.org/

Welcome to Synchronized Chaos, please peruse our artistic offerings

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This is a down-and-dirty version of Synchronized Chaos. The website’s clearly not fully designed nor as user-friendly as we would like yet but I’ve put up the artwork so our contributors might get the exposure they deserve and so everyone will have a chance to view the work and dialogue regarding the themes and ideas brought forth here. Many of our contributors have experience in other fields (scientific research, academia, business management, marketing, etc) and hope to inspire creativity and innovation in all fields of human experience.

Many contributors have included contact information and/or purchasing info for their work, and we encourage you to patronize our contributors. Also our artists and writers would love to hear from viewers – so if you have questions, constructive feedback, ideas for them, even a simple note of appreciation, please contact them using the email addresses provided. Many are seeking professional networking and/or collaboration opportunities through Synchronized Chaos. If you would like to reach someone who does not have listed contact info please leave a comment to the post and I will pass on your message.

Thanks for following this webzine and for joining with us all in the wild ride that is zine creation! We look forward to a more beautiful, professional site in the near future.

Julia Burton – poetry and accompanying image

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 My name is Julia Burton. I’m 21. I started writing in middle school, when encouraged by a teacher who thought that I wrote well. I am from Lexington, Kentucky. I am also an artist, but am a student and still learning. I am looking for a publisher to publish my work, I am open to any ideas regarding the issue.  When I write, I don’t have any pre-designed poem in mind, I usually just spit out the thoughts and emotions in my head. However there are the rare occasions where something I’ve designed in my mind makes its way to the page. I am inspired by humanity itself, and the swirling emotions surrounding us.

June Whispers Undoing
Rays of golden hair        
dancing in the sky, normal morning sun
mingled with
            giddy laughter of friends
Gathered people
mulling around
            as we moved through

Lights dull by day, horns and clowns
blazing the way
through this morning.
            oh, this morning

I was rummaging, shopping for coffee mugs
when you were falling
            descending a path

There is a call
my voice shaking as I answer
something begins to sink
            so low inside of me

Stones to weigh down the time inside,
what is left
            but a pile of fallen rocks

Placed upon the dingy earth
with nowhere left
to stand
            I too, will fall

Small staggering streets
move beneath me, as we go to believe
            the blurred masses, move around me

White walls glimmer bleach
the chaplain is waiting
            to show me in

My mother is still as she
clasps your belongings
her face pale, we are all pale
            we’ve called it.

The room expands,
then collapses
            what?

To know the spark moves on
            to feel empty

We huddle like broken sticks
gripping weakly the knowledge
of you
            and the moment

How we did not see
what time so plainly could
what you told us
I know only
            the missing you

I can’t forget now
coffins and sodden earth
rackets of grief
            places you used to be

You are all around me now
lend me strength
to live
            as you did

To live
without you
in the shadows
            standing in the rain

Waiting for the sun
            to rise

 

You may contact Julia at murmersoftlyofthenight@gmail.com

Jaylan Salah, Egyptian poet and aspiring novelist

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From an email conversation with Jaylan Salah on life, inspiration, and writing:
…Being a woman who writes in Egypt isn’t a very easy task, usually you get laughed at or even considered impolite just because you are a woman & some will start calling you a freak but tell you what, this was exactly what made me more eager to write, to prove myself as an independent woman, even if others didn’t want to believe that or tried to put out the fire burning in my veins.
…Well to sum up all the beautiful commentary I have in mind about a beautiful country like Egypt in just a few words is like trying to describe every single wave of the sea separately. The whole image isn’t as bright as it may seem, you may imagine it as a clear sky darkened by grey clouds that grow thicker & thicker day by day. We have inspirational scenery, an amazing sea (that inspires me a lot) & a proud heritage, a rich history of different languages & civilizations – but at the same time we have religious extremists, anti-feminists & those who believe women were meant to be kept under lock & key.
…All this inspires me, along with daily life events that shock me entirely or dazzle me to the extent of running towards my desk, grabbing my pen & piece of paper & getting ready to write. I’ve been writing since I was 11 & although this may sound like an OLD age to some, I was just listening, reading, watching & learning right up to my 11th birthday when I decided to rebel & take matters into my own hands. I won’t just watch from a distance, I’ll be a part of that crazy, fast-paced world.
My mother & sister are my greatest supporters & they believe in me as much as I believe in myself; maybe a little bit more.
A sampling of Jaylan’s poetry, translated into English:
Salem
It was a cold November day
I prayed to reach the stakes, before midnight
The flight to the moon was full of gloom
The executioner said, I’d soon be dead
I’d kick the box by noon, he said, I would never forget
The road to death was full of screams, begging and pleas
I held on to the bars of rusting iron
I fought back all the scars of blazing pain
I sniffed all the tears of distant fears
I watched the stake, fire and wood
I watched the faces of the people
Hatred filled eyes, despising with fear and loathing
All they did was point a finger, scorn with a look
I took my last weeds of wisdom, shut my senses
No preferences, today was the day I’d slowly die
The fire burned so scarily high, Mary was there, her hair was rising up to hell
Sarah was hiding, her tears were washing all my pain
Elizabeth stood both strong and frail, she hoped her trial would just fail
I laughed my heart out at the stake, I was in a hurry to embrace it
Hands tied roughly behind my back, hair trimmed coarsely in a bun

Eyes reaching the sky so high, ears deafened by church’s bells
I waited for the flames to flare, to burn my feet and burn my dare
But nothing came although the flames were piercing high
across the cloudy, foggy sky
they blew the fire and the wind, waiting for me to turn to dust
But I was higher than them all, saving my dignity and soul
I waited for the time to die, afraid to hurt my precious pride
The executioner’s vicious laugh was turned to gasps and doubtful glare
Maybe she isn’t guilty, someone shouted
But she must die, and die i should
Before I go and leave behind
nothing but ashes, dirt and slime
I had to say that I would pray, to see the day where they became
lesser than me and more than this
Their wings would succumb to distress
Their eyes would certainly behold
The death of an innocent lady, a woman with a heart of cold
A woman so pretty and bold, whose crime is turning dust to gold
They lit the fire and withdrew, that time, it hurt to watch it glow
My skin began to melt, my hair began to fume
But I would never beg, would sure not bend
The terror soon swept away, leaving a flower to decay
I wasn’t there when ashes sprang, from bodily hope and dreams and trance
I was above the cowards and whore
Flying across the distant stars, singing along the vale profound
smoke dancing with every single sound I made
I wasn’t dead, you pathetic twits
I was a symbol of resistance, a gale and holy princess
smoke that arose from me was twisted sending letters to the saints and children
Behold the witch in Salem lot
She was the bravest on the spot

Fields of Innocence
<!–more–>
I wish I could go back
to the long lost track
where you and I have been together
Always and forever
Go back to the lonely sand castle
to the twizzler and the whistle, the dreams we shared in bed
If only I could turn back time, I would go back
To the old oak tree, the spring and endless sea
to the deep dark woods, the goth tower roofs
The turmoil and the hoofs of a horse miles away
I wish I could retain, the kiss in the rain
The touch in the mist, the hug and the tricks we played on time
If only I could turn back time, wipe away the dirt, the mud
The fog and the dust, that came along as years passed by
If only I could break the unforgiving stake where we abandoned us
where our dreams and fears, our rain and tears were burned away
our hugs were pulled apart, our arms detached, souls distracted
love brutally crushed, under feet of people running in a stampede
The things we shared are lost, the frost destroyed the love we shared
I wish I could relive those days when we would walk for miles along the coast
when we would make a toast for ourselves
when we would cry if our eyes failed to see each others
where sand slipped through our feet, our skin tanned by the heat
that came from the evening sun
If only I could go back to being small and naive, covered in sheets
Knowing the world was only white and black; no shades of gray
I wish I may, turn my back on today
Relive the day when we were one and stayed together
Forever I will keep you in my heart…
Untitled
Close your eyes…

Whisper my name

Take my hands, teach me how to fly; otherwise

I’d sell my soul to the devil, I’d offer my body to the cannibals; I’d sacrifice…

I’d teach you, to listen to the sound of the waves, to watch the birds swaying in the dark blue sky; otherwise

You’d teach me how to live, how to change the truth & the lies…

It’s cold, chilling to the bone, on this lonely afternoon…

So teach me how to break free from the burden of the deep blue eyes & silver skies, in your gaze

Otherwise, I’d teach you how to march with petals, for you I’ll memorize,
my faults, my dreams & cries…

Save me, I can’t tell the wrong from the right, the day from the night

I can’t find the answers, I can’t compromise; otherwise

I’d burn the weeds of wisdom, I’d carry the world on my shoulders, I’d walk alone, head up & die…

So Close your eyes…

Whisper my name

Take my hand, I’ll teach you where to land

When to fly…

Word from a Teenage Rebel
Though I’m a lonely falcon flying far and free,

No one has ever dared to try and glide with me.

My engine never weakens moving so fast and wild,

A firm belief in me, that I was not a child.

Too bold to take all risks, I always shed my tears,

Roughed up by beasts and ghouls this made me kill my fears.

I dreamt of a vacant world a place for heavenly cries,

No borders to prevent my reach for the Seven Skies.

Crashes of waves do thrill me; thunder knew me by name,

Without hunters that trail me, world stays so dull and lame.

I love my rare adventures, the territories I gained,

Never joining the crowd nothing left me restrained.

Missing a lover makes me enjoy the lingering pain,

I yell and call for someone; my cries are still in vain.

Shall I bear this flight one eighty towards hell,

The brakes are missing or am I blind; I dare if you can tell.

Whom shall I ask for help, who will receive my letter?

I cannot leave the sky coz Earth is nothing better.

Needn’t I keep in me this charming rebel free?

To know I’ll always lead the stormy cruel sea…

I can be; no body else but me…

Jaylan’s work can be found online at http://community.livejournal.com/jaypoetryoasis/ and she welcomes comments and correspondence with other writers around the world. Her email is joly16_blackpearl@hotmail.com
 

Emily Chimiak, artist and engineer. Art inspired by scientific observations – molecules in solution, particle movement after the Big Bang

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From an e-mail conversation with Emily:

…My chemical engineering background has certainly affected my work. For instance, chemistry and mesothermodynamics classes showed me that despite how still and stable objects appear to the naked eye, they move constantly at a molecular level, guided by invisible fluctuations in energy.  Impressed by this, I decided to make my paintings about movement.  I paint what I know, what I have learned.  Aside from school, my family members are mostly chemists and engineers and household discussions familiarize me with the latest news in the science world.

…Genesis at Epsilon and The Moments After Are More Than the Moments Before are my favorite paintings because they are my clearest explanation of how I see.  Genesis at Epsilon portrays the dramatic movement of molecules and stars, which is a refreshing break from how life often appears.  The objects in the foreground are much larger than the dots at the origin; it is as if an explosion has occured a fraction of a moment after the Big Bang, a fraction of a moment after God spoke the world into existence.  The Moments After Are More Than the Moments Before gives the appearance of solids spontaneously forming in a soupy mixture.  Viewers look at it for a longer period of time than my other paintings.  As if gazing at a cloud or a lava lamp, they appear relaxed and tell me that they see a bird, or, no wait, a knight on a horse.  

…I can talk about my painting process.   It involves little planning.  I will read or see something and immediately race to make the first mark.  After that, I use rules of composition to balance the product.  I imagine that my painting is a reaction about to occur.  I mix colorful solutions, and watch the substances try to diffuse into a harmonious relationship.  The canvas is my system.  The rules of composition have a similar result to laws in a physical system.  When one side of the canvas becomes too densely populated, marks rush over to the other side. 

Please view two of Emily’s series of paintings, “Origin” and “Nature” here:
http://emilychimiak.com/paintings.aspx

Press releases and news of upcoming shows also available on the site.

You may contact Emily at emily_chimiak@hotmail.com and she recommends “Nature Loves to Hide” by Shimon Malin, a sidestory incorporated into a book on quantum physics.

Catvonhaufecooper, Left Handed Artist from Marin. Member of Artists and Poets for a New America.

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Random gentleman I met at a MUNI stop in San Francisco who let me know he was a poet seeking publication when I asked for directions. He goes by Catvonhaufecooper and can be reached at 415-331-1461. Said he’d found that when he stopped pushing things and simply looked around him for opportunities, that the very things he sought from the world arrived.

Dreams Venetian

 

Legends and maps

With currents Venetian waltzing

With salt and sand churning

With gravity pulling

Arriving departing reliably

Upon light lunar clear

 

Laguna Veneta bocche di po

Waltzing churning pulling

Legends and maps

Reliably clear

 

Mountains and canyons

With currents Venetian rumbling

With sun and shade meshing

With balance holding

Vanishing slowly silently

Upon darkness still

 

Castello Franco Veneto, Vittorio Veneto

Rumbling meshing holding

Mountains and canyons

Silently still

 

Treasures and trenches

With currents Venetian forming

With silver and gold sinking

With ocean owning

Closing concealing mute

Upon mortality slumber

 

Mare Adriatico Golfo de Veneza

Forming sinking owning

Treasures and trenches

Mute slumber

 

Gondolas and canals

With currents Venetian roaming

With eclipse and tide yearning

As one sharing

Veiling unveiling softly

Upon sphere somber

 

Piscine serenissimi

Roaming yearning sharing

Gondolas and canals

Softly somber

 

Take Them Give Them

 <!–more–>

Dogs are one of the family

Everybody needs a mutt

Romantacy pit bull lives the life

 

Take them to the movies

Stroll them in the park

Take them to the parlor

Listen when they bark

 

Give them some advantage

A little behind the neck

Give them a name and a collar

Spoil them, what the heck

 

The grass I walk Paki

It’s called dog park

Dogs real eyes realize

 

Take them to the country

Let them roll in mud

Take them to a concert

Hope it’s not a dud

 

Give them a biscuit

Learn them how to sit

Give them a doghouse

Watch them sleep in it

 

Ever take a dog to the ocean

Salty water with sand

See flip dog paddle

 

Take them with you hunting

Let them off their leash

Take them to weekday funerals

May he rest in peace

 

Give them to your neighbor

You’ll be Mediterranean bound

Give them a pat on the head

Say you are a good old hound

 

Prota Punka is my sheepdog

Her favorite number is 3,283

Thank you Miracle Grow

 

Take them to the ball yard

Possibly one at bat

Take them to view fireworks

Ooooh, look at that

 

Give them a thorough brushing

Seven times a day

Give them plenty of water

Music they will play

 

Dogs are boys and girls

Male Karass, female Duquesa

Excuse me hardly nearly

 

Take them to the Laundromat

Observe tumble dry

Run them to the library

Novel about private eye

 

Give them a muzzle

Keep them out of jail

Give them a bone to bury

Archaeologists will unveil

 

Pipette is a silver poodle

Wears two top-know bows

Ready to go now

 

Take them to Hawaii

Six months quarantine

Take them when you’re camping

In case the bears are mean

 

Give them a birthday bash

Blow candles out on cake

Give them undivided attention

For canine sake

 

Surfboard Lost

 

One rage approaching

Fury of possessions fighting

Falsehoods told

Preceding the gods

Kingdom’s vegetable

Herbage

Plants perennial

Creatures in motion living

 

White water wave

Wave white water

Water wave white

 

A surfboard I am

Skegs atop lost

Down upside floating

Debris splinters surround

Encountered trillions

 

Loft visionary undimming

Gesture wanes calm serene

Falsehoods bartered

Preceding the gods

Waters body great

Masses saline

Inlet insertions

Creatures in living motion

 

Wave white water

Water wave white

White water wave

 

A surfboard I am

Ruins fragments buoyant

Salvation away shrunken

Removed remote

By ocean current swept

Undertows tubular

 

Horizon unworthy descending

Image obscurity belongs

Falsehoods brazen

 

The Reign of a Poet

 

An emperor

One time ago

Desired to venture

The mountains high

To remain elevated

In the fourth season

Axis revolutions eighty

 

During his distance covered

Of the empire

Aspects prospered

Sufficient fully

All possible became

Homes of currency

Soil cultivation

Fishery

Of public purchase

Commodities

Hire reward

 

Moons eighty elapsed

High the mountains

Plummet commenced

State satellite downward

To the empire return

 

The emperor recurred

A rustic

His return unawares

Events unexpected

Astonishment struck

The emperor inquired

In my peremptoriness

Who is showing the way?

 

Language of imagination

She uses in converse

The principal is a poet

A short time ago

Act of falling

Empire began

From her body

Her head severed

With a saber

More conceptual, visual art – Siiri Korhonen

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Hello. I’m S. Korhonen, known as Anáryawe, far too young to be taken seriously, and from Finland.

Currently I do images, working with non-digital equipment. For me making art is more about the process than the result – for me it’s  leaping into the general mishmash of everything a.ka. into the chaos, and trying to discover and figure out some pieces I see&feel&sense there and bring them some form. It makes me feel worth something and I have nothing better to do. Mostly I combine drawing and painting and collage forms of art and put these works on the Internet, but I also photograph and write and mime and make music, cause for me irrational life is art and irrational art is life. 

Spontaneously organized chaos could very easily be used as an explanation of my whole attitude towards life.

Siiri’s Deviant Art gallery: http://anaryawe.deviantart.com/gallery/

Art below – “Cold Irons Bound,” “For Nothing” and “Untitled.”