Varnish


“Hold me oldly,” she
says. for

love, not for 

long. dipped in the

darkness 
of the dancing night.




Ephemera


Once we 
were. once there was  
a sensation of stillness in a kiss. once

the air 
lapsed 

pinkly
before your lips—collapsing 
camellias. 




Tryst


A room awash 
in the wan androgyny

of the moonlight. she
tells him, “Say

little words, they 

end 
quickly but
last longer.”


Eric Mohrman is a writer living in Orlando, Florida. He's the author of the chapbook Prospectors (Locofo Chaps, 2017), and his work has appeared in The Citron Review, Otoliths, One Sentence Poems, M58, Moss Trill, Gone Lawn, BlazeVOX, Eunoia Review, and other journals.

My stomach is the palace of hunger

My tank clatter ironical song that clutter my pleasure,
Rhyming chronicles cock like confused can,
For course that clamps my container.
Chuku-chuk-chuku-ku-chuk!
Causing sounds as cavalry choke on war,
Itching as chisel choking on wood.
Crawling core my heart chimney.
Converting charge to body weakness.
Coercing me clutches calm humbleness,
When feeling uncomfortable like comb choking my clatter container.
I conclude to comply to its command…
Conning me to comply as he concise.

I am a miner of peace

I have been mining peace with my peace digger core metaphor
Arranging words to sentence with the alphabet of inspiration
Laddering rhyming sword that kills conflict
Filling my leaves with my shape edged pen build up of simile
Pouring hyperbole water to fills the leaves of crafted poems.

Nuraini Mohammad Usman is a passionate writer and student from Minna, Niger state with roots in Kano State. Inspired by his experience and culture, he crafts uplifting poems and stories that ignite positive change with a strong foundation from Dayamas Model School, Better Treasure International School, and Al-Fawzul Azeem International School, Nuraini is currently honing his skills at Legend International School and the Hilltop Creative Art Foundation. He believes in the power of words to inspire and motivate others.

the spring sometimes with mud and rains, where we wore jackets and sweaters, walked the miles and sat a while upon the hill where a stone was stationed. overcast and windy, but, as it goes, change does the world well sometimes. then, warmth and the celebration of summer, its blooms and creatures and the clear blue sky, the petals just there and the feral ferns unwinding. see the verdancy of the woodlands whimsical, the paths and ways wondrous.

Autumn waits and then its own brand of beauty, hues red yellow-brown,- the treeline captures one’s eye there, calm, reminding somehow of all the autumns before. where is that sweater?-that jacket?- that book of poems or novel that used to be revisited in the fall months? what would Henry Miller say about?- he said he liked Jack Kerouac’s nature writing. he would have something to say about it, something positive, life affirming. the sagacity of seasons…everybody wants only the great sun and clarity,- but the cycles of time know what they are doing. winter,- cold and brooding, serious and often saturnine. bleak days, early dark, but sometimes the sun, the sparkles of snow upon branches near or wild. that is good, no?- the quiet meditative earth then, blanketed in nature’s newness and wisdom…

Now you know…

You wrote poems called “mother”,

“Father” is the only word in your heart.

I think you’re calling me “father”

You know the value of your father now.

Who is the person who did your thankless work,

Ayamai gave his love quietly.

If you don’t tell me that you gave me love,

You don’t appreciate your father.

You are jealous of someone else,

You are happy in your imagination.

You are in pain, not happiness.

You know the value of your father now.

Lost

Grass or hair

Very close

Sickle-covered hands

Cut by the clouds of the decks

Sailors’ souls or sailors’ corpses

In the ocean of time

In the ocean of the soul

A void stirred by the storm

A void moved by the wind

Catch me

Raw are matches

Keep me warm

Hands are broken

Anchors melted into cotton candy.

Sails soak up the screams and become heavy as metal

No one remembers but the seagulls

Death by ship

A ship that tasted death

No one knows where the corpses go

Ice beneath the feet of slipping death

Cast-iron milk of tastes and sunken eyes of noses

Nobody knows how to compose a proper serenade

Nobody knows how to die with rhyme

Nobody writes dead poetry

Nobody writes poetry for dead people

Nobody knows how to write and read

Strange seagulls look everywhere with their beaks

Michael’s Salvation:

I have come across some of my journals from 1979 and 1987.

Indeed, my cry to the Lord was genuine. I actually wanted to die. I cried out to the Lord over and over again for salvation and redemption. Still, I continued in turmoil. As I read my journals from those periods in my life and my writing in Synchronized Chaos since 2015, I’ve found my salvation and redemption here and now after 21 years yesterday in this apartment God has come and now lives in my Heart.❤️

I have peace beyond my understanding, as it says in the Bible. Finally, after years of darkness, there is light in my heart. Jeremiah 29:11 tells us that God promises a hope and a future, not to harm, but to prosper us. John 3:16 says that God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son so that anyone who believes in
Him would have eternal life.

I accept Christ the salvation that Jesus Christ purchased for me. No more do I desire to die, but to live in Christ Jesus in the here and now and throughout eternity. My death was to my sinful nature because I’ve come to accept that while I once was a sinner. I’m now saved to live a life in Christ who is alive in the Father. Therefore, like the Apostle Paul says: Romans “Dead to sin, alive to God”

Romans 6:1-14: Dead to Sin
“What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer?” – Romans 6:1-2 (NIV).
Amen and amen.

“You were born from the Rays of God’s Majesty when the stars were in their perfect place.”

                                                                                                 ~RUMI

God, I return to you in the lights of a star…shining bright with the light of love. Love from the beginning I return without darkness for I have seen the wonders of my soul. The hidden treasure of your spark within me. The world has not covered my soul in sin or emptiness leaving me without you in my heart. Your truth speaks in me in the wee hours of the morning as the world sleeps forever more. I find my soul among the stars circling the outer rim of Saturn’s moon. I’m that star to the right of your heart. O God, never to become dim for you created me to shine forever more.

“When you lose all sense of self the bonds of a thousand chains will vanish…”

                                                                                                           ~RUMI

Where can I go, O God where you do not exist? I have not traveled far enough to not feel your Holy presence within my soul. Delightful thoughts about the beginning of time together. Reaching for the clouds, as I lay in the fields of joy, wishing to see the skies once more. Before the clouds cover the moon and the sun fades into the distinct mountains of Vermont. Once we had a conversation, as I sat on the porch wondering about my life. It was a conversation about my beginning without end. My heart listened intently as you spoke of salvation and redemption. Christ the Messiah came alive within me. No more doubt nor sin to confuse my aching soul. For I had received the communion of life with these three words: You are forgiven.

7:41pm

10-20-2024