Time

Time is one of the most valuable things a person has. Spending time on idle things, walking on the street, spending a lot of time on activities such as watching shows is one of the sad cases. Watch the right interesting shows. It is also necessary to go for a walk. But it is necessary to know how to divide their time correctly.

Let’s think about what kind of time we spend for ourselves in a day? Reading a book, traveling or idleness. Which one you do is up to you. their interest is fading. Instead of reading books, instead of learning science, they watch various videos on “Tik-Tok”, “Instagram”, “Youtobe” and other social networks and play games. He likes to play. Go out on the street and look around. You will see what kind of situations you see. Young people are walking on the street for nothing, talking with bad words, not being able to get off the phone, etc. Think about what their future will be like.

If every person does not act for himself, if he does not work on himself, it is useless to create conditions for them. You know, we see on television and social networks. In some foreign countries, people are sitting hungry, homeless and young people. They are dying of hunger and disease. You can also briefly call these young people who are not grateful as “ungrateful”.

Dear compatriots, my peers, I don’t want to teach you wisdom or touch your heart. I just want to tell you to allocate your time correctly and not have regrets. Please, dear ones, learn science in your time! Don’t regret it later.

Toshtemirova Dildora was born in Uzbekistan in 2008. School student.

in my country, as soon as the first days of spring begin, birds sing everywhere. This gives us a sign that spring has come. Spring is the beginning of seasons, the period of awakening. Animals that fall asleep in winter wake up in spring. that is, awakening, the beginning of a new page, the beginning of the road enters the beginning period.

There are three months of spring: March, April, and May. Although they are few, they embody the national holidays of our people. Just as every nation has its own national holiday, we also have holidays that reflect our nationalism. They include March 8, women’s holiday, Nowruz national holiday, and several other holidays. with the arrival of spring, buds begin to emerge from the trees. The hills will be green, and there will be many colors. The waters are overflowing.

The edges of the waters are rich, and mints are beginning to emerge. all areas are cleaned, various flowers are planted, landscaping works begin. Different types of seedlings are planted. Spring holidays are celebrated with great fanfare. Nowruz holiday, which embodies the nationality of our motherland, is a clear example of this. In the spring, the children’s voices reach the sky, because the mountains are going out to pick chuchmoma and bochachak. They play different games. The day and night are equal on the night from the twenty-first to the twenty-second of March of the spring season. From this day, our days will start to get longer. This is God’s gift to us. This is the new day of the Muslim New Year. Our grandfather farmers also slowly pick up their hoes and go to their fields. The lands that could not withstand the wrath of winter are melted and thrown away by the golden rays of the sun. The spring air will be cool. The days are slowly getting warmer. Spring brings love, happiness, and good health to each other, our kind mothers, our graceful women, our lovely sisters, and sweet sugar give beauty and elegance to our little girls.

Imagination is a gift given to a person by God. When a person thinks about something or wants to do something, he first imagines it. He makes it as far as he can imagine it, so that the fat does not pass. Another type of visualization is dreaming. There is a difference between a dream and an imagination. The reason is that to dream is to desire something that one does not have, and to imagine is to imagine something and bring it to life in imagination. Thinking of spring brings peace and dreams to one’s heart. our hearts flutter when we imagine spring.

We think of spring renewal as making new dreams, taking a step forward in life, making new plans. The spring season brings with it a world of news. when you imagine again, the smell of peach blossoms in the fields and tulips in the mountains comes to your eyes. Spring does not escape our imagination. We cannot imagine spring without our national games. Nowruz holiday comes to our mind first. tell us the stories of our grandmothers in it, the history of Nowruz and its origins.

We can’t imagine Navruz without a lot of wrestling, various sayings, and national dances. Nature has given us such blessings for which we should be grateful. we can’t imagine spring without fennel, summer without water, autumn without blueberry, and winter without white flakes. Therefore, let’s imagine the spring in our imagination so that we can see it in practice. I imagine spring. First of all, I see the blossoming of trees, the joy of people around me, the joy of people, the children playing and rejoicing on the hills

I imagine that sumacs are cooked in our dosh pots and shared with everyone, greening works are being carried out in all places, bringing joy to the hearts. I imagine spring, which includes all good deeds. we can’t imagine spring without swallows. The swallow brings a lot of hair.

I liken spring to a new era of rejuvenation and renewal. As soon as spring comes, it starts to spread its blue dress around. the surroundings become more and more beautiful and reflect elegance and sophistication. He is also compared to a bride. Bahar is compared to women again. The reason is that a woman can attract any man who is elegant, refined and demanding. Spring is considered a faiz of fortune-telling. spring season is as patient as the mountains, as strong as women. No matter how windy or rainy it is, it preserves its beauty. It brings the purest thoughts to people’s hearts.

I compare spring to a woman. Our women are certainly strong enough to share all their beauty with their loved ones. These are our women who are crying or laughing at the perfect time. I think spring is a comparison to women.

Among the seasons, spring is distinguished by its elegance, beauty, rejuvenation, and rejuvenation. Again, the spring season is as important to everyone as it is to sow the seeds of goodness in people’s hearts and do good deeds. spring spreads its dowry and excites the hearts of all people. In the spring season, our national holiday Navruz is celebrated. He gives all people the same joy, happiness, kindness, happiness.

In the spring, we all realize our identity once again. it stands out without losing its nationality. With our national dishes, games, and holidays. Spring is the first step of the seasons, the beginning of the road. spring is the flower of the seasons, it gives a special mood to existence. It is distinguished by these aspects. While watching the spring scenery, you involuntarily want to add more beauty to this beauty. it definitely stands out with such beauty. In my opinion, the spring season is distinguished among the seasons by its wealth of nationalism, harmony with beauty, kindness, creation, wounding, elegance and other aspects. there are many, the most important of which is harmony with nationality. You are the solitary queen of the four seasons, you are the end of all beauty

You are the wish of lovers!

Have you ever come back, spring?

You are the dream of the earth and the sky, You are the beginning of my song,

You are the companion of my golden cradle!

Are you coming back, spring? In fact, spring is likened to a bride. The reason is that it is rich in beautiful colors like kelinchak. Another reason is that the courtyards where the bride comes will be clean and tidy. When spring comes, people also collect all their places. Where there is cleanliness and order, blessings always rain. Every poet and poetess write a poem about spring. Every day of spring is a holiday, and every day is full of newness and change. Spring comes first in a white dress like a bride, then it shows itself in various colors. The reason is that almond blossoms are white, while tulips are red and peachy. In the hearts of people, rejuvenation encourages new thoughts. He remembers the name of spring again and again on various holidays. when there are holidays, the health of the sick is reported, the elderly come to see them and perform many other meritorious deeds. That is why it is said that it is the bride of the seasons, the love of love. And they don’t greet the bride for nothing on our holidays

The reason why spring and the bride are compatible is that both of them are symbols of elegance and beauty.

Habibullayeva Madina, a 9th-grade student of school 75 in Chust district. She is a poet, literary critic, entrepreneur and leader. Her articles and stories have been published in foreign magazines. She has published three books Article:”Spring”.

We continue to express sorrow over what’s happening in so many different parts of the world and encourage our readers to support people and the planet.

Also, we are hosting our Metamorphosis gathering again! This is a chance for people to share music, art, and writing and to dialogue across different generations (hence the name, the concept of ideas morphing and changing over the years). This event is also a benefit for the grassroots Afghan women-led group RAWA, which is organized by women in Afghanistan who are currently supporting educational and income generation and literacy projects in their home county as well as assisting earthquake survivors. (We don’t charge or process the cash, you are free to donate online on your own and then attend!)

This will be Saturday April 6th, 2-4 pm in the fellowship hall of Davis Lutheran Church at 317 East 8th Street in Davis, California. It’s a nonreligious event open to all, the church has graciously allowed us to use the meeting room. You may sign up here on Eventbrite.

Also, we encourage everyone in the California area to attend the third annual Hayward Lit Hop on Saturday, April 27th. This is a public festival with different readings from different groups throughout downtown Hayward coinciding with Hayward’s choosing a new adult poet laureate, culminating in an afterparty at Hayward’s Odd Fellows Lounge. Several Synchronized Chaos contributors will read from their work at the 2024 Lit Hop.

Now for the March 2024 issue, Literary Devices. This issue explores what we can accomplish with language. The written and spoken and signed word can be a force for education, communication, dignity, connection among people, and pride and artistry. Language is also a way to render the indescribable through metaphor or fragmented text and leave something behind on the historical record.

Maurizio Brancaleoni reflects on human history as if it were akin to fossils, engraved within stone. S. Rupsha Mitra’s poetry collection Smoked Frames, reviewed here by Cristina Deptula, dramatizes the search for one’s truest self within psychology, cultural and family history, and radical self-understanding.

On a more personal level, John Edward Culp celebrates the anticipatory joy of the first tentative flight of new love. Kristy Raines writes of the emotional union and connection of romance.

Graciela Noemi Villaverde evokes dreamy flights of fancy, memory and imagination. Borna Kekic reminisces about his old haunts and watching movies with his teenage friends.

Duane Vorhees presents a poetic and historical record that chronicles the slow dissolution of a relationship while Taylor Dibbert’s poem reflects on the stages of the inevitable dissolution of a marriage and Elmaya Jabbarova speaks to a keenly felt grief, an absence that’s like a presence.

Saidakbar Ibrohim’s essay focuses on Uzbek poet G’afur G’ulom, Yahya Azeroglu’s work chronicles Azerbaijani literary and cultural history and pride while Z.I. Mahmud analyzes the literary and poetic qualities of Rabinadranath Tagore and Anita Desai’s poetry and prose.

Munisa Azimova offers up praise for the legacy of Uzbek poet Alisher Navoi and Bakhara Shodmonqulova shows respect for her heritage and language while Janglish Khasanova describes efforts to collect and publish the works of young Uzbek writers today. Mohichehra Rustamova’s essay highlights the love of her parents and the beauty and wisdom of her country’s literary heritage. Jacques Fleury celebrates part of Black global literary history through his review of Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God, which tells the story of a Black woman’s journey towards self-realization independent of society’s emphasis on upward mobility and respectability.

Gulyora Hashimjonova offers up a memory of connection between herself and her father out in nature in their Uzbek homeland. Don Bormon celebrates humans and nature in his elegant piece on life in a city park while Mahbub Alam illustrates the cycles of nature, the trees changing colors, Annie Johnson contributes gentle poems about love and the slow sunrise and J.K. Durick offers up various takes on human and natural history and questions our level of control over shaping our world. Noel Pratt reflects on nature and on our smallness and relative lack of influence over such a large and eternal world. J.D. Nelson draws on haiku, the traditional Japanese form often used to depict glimpses of the beauty of nature, to craft vignettes about embracing ordinary life, even when plans are interrupted. Doug Hawley’s humorous short pieces illuminate human life and human nature and highlight the importance and ingrained nature of our instinct to narrate life through story.

Christopher Bernard reviews Cal Performances’ recent production of Pina Bausch’s take on Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring, a show grounded in connection to the cycles of the earth.

Durdona Roxmatullayeva writes of the isolation and harshness but also the natural quality of heartbreak, metaphorically represented by the season of winter, while Zarnigor Ubaydullayeva extols the beauty of spring, kindness, and maturity. Mesfakus Salahin laments large scale damage to the earth and the world’s ecosystems.

Isabel Gomez de Diego photographs large tractors on parade in front of historic buildings, showing off the interdependence of agriculture and industry.

Marjona Asadova hopes for national Uzbek pride and world peace through universal recognition of human dignity. Maja Milojkovic’s poetry concerns our ethical aspirations, encouraging us to summit the heights of becoming more decent and caring human beings.

Dusan Stojkovic speaks to the role of poetry in teaching people to navigate life and relationships while Mykyta Ryzhykh highlights the psychological effects of dehumanization and cheapening of life, human and nonhuman.

Set within middle America, Bill Tope’s story looks at how we find closeness to each other, while Stephen Jarrell Williams’s poetry explores where and how we find solace, together or alone.

Anna Petrovic’s poems navigate the landscape of intense human feeling. Sa’ad Ali’s ekphrastic poems evoking the sensibility of lesser known works by famous artists. Iduoze Abdulhafiz probes the psychology of people’s dreamlike subconscious while Joshua Martin scatters letters and punctuation on the page in concrete poetry and Clive Gresswell’s pieces offer up ruminations in rhythmical streams of consciousness while Mark Young connects fragments of thought using technology and Jim Meirose explores the experience of falling through experimental words and text. Patrick Sweeney’s one-line poems are at once familiar and exotic, esoteric and mundane.

Makfiratkhon Abdurakhmonova extols the virtues and possibility of the land of sleep. Sayani Mukherjee‘s poetry concerns a dreamtime encounter with the divine world beyond herself while Madinabonu Bobobekova offers up a dreamy meditation on getting into the headspace to write.

Emeniano Acain Somoza compares the human heart navigating life to the performance of a juggling clown.

Ayanda Dlanga’s horror piece on fear and pursuit from a monster at night could be a metaphor for growing up too quickly. Safarmurod Yuldoshev speaks to the distribution of phytonematodes in Uzbekistan’s crops in his scientific essay, illustrating how nature can be menacing as well as welcoming. Jerry Langdon speaks to the physical and psychological horrors waiting for and threatening our souls, while Daniel De Culla addresses external political oppression through his poetic dramatization of a corrupt and self important Argentine leader.

J.J. Campbell contributes fatalistic poetry about a suffocating small town while Shahrizoda Bekturdieva raises awareness of domestic violence in a variety of locales. Mirta Liliana Ramirez writes of finding her own voice and speaking up for herself and others who were wronged, while Shamisya Khudoynazarova Turumnova addresses the pain associated with shattering a person’s reputation and Ilhomova Mokhichera reflects on the inexplicability of heartbreak.

Roberta Beach Jacobson’s poems are of awkwardness, not fitting in life, while Kelly Moyer’s work represents the self-described fantasy of finally being noticed and heard. Faleeha Hassan links war and violence to the human survival instinct, stemming from a desperate and human need to be heard and validated.

Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa addresses our freedom of choice, between good and evil or simply between different life paths. Nahyean Bin Khalid gives us the beginning of a good versus evil action tale while Gulsanam Qurbonova praises the value of continual knowledge and self-education and Azamqulova Shahina Jonibekovna talks about upbringing, education, and development as a person while Madina Fayzullaeva outlines the intellectual and personal core competencies needed to teach foreign language and Mavludaxon Moydinova’s essay describes language and word formation in the Uzbek language. Sarvinoz Mamadaliyeva outlines and celebrates educational opportunities available to young Uzbeks at Namangan State Pedagogical University.

Adhamova Laylo Akmaljon gives us an essay on achieving goals and making the most of life. Zinnira Maxammadiyeva talks about making the most of life by investing in yourself and studying as Gulsevar Xojamova urges her fellow Uzbeks to pursue education and personal responsibility.

Shahnoza Ochildiyeva presents her pathway to success as a strong and creative Uzbek girl, while Orzigul Sherova offers up her praise of science and research and learning and knowledge. Guli Jonuzoqova describes the value of education, especially for women, while Nurmanatova Aigul’s metaphorical conversational piece concerns moving forward into the future.

Ravshanbek Nasulloyev describes techniques for enhancing one’s learning and everyday skills with a foreign language while Gulyora highlights the importance of cross cultural understanding in useful business communication.

Unlike many who bemoan people’s isolation due to too much screen time, Wazed Abdullah celebrates the connective power of mobile phone technology. Marguba Lapasova describes advances in modern payment technology while Maftuna Umaraliyeva explores how the modern tourism industry has incorporated or expanded upon traditional codes of hospitality.

Shakhnoza Ulashova argues for enhancing justice in Uzbekistan by providing Uzbeks with representation in all sorts of legal proceedings.

Umid Qodir’s poem asserts the value and dignity of poetry in advancing human understanding while Jullayeva Sitora Ismailnova highlights how the true heart of a poet should tend towards empathy and compassion.

Nosirova Gavhar speaks to her devotion in her faith while Brian Barbeito offers up sketches of people who are humble yet wise.

We at Synchronized Chaos Magazine, aspire to be humble, yet wise.

The song “Wherever I Fall,” from the 2021 movie Cyrano, directed by Joe Wright, shares the experiences of soldiers who believe they will likely die soon, yet express to their families and loved ones that they are happy with how they are living their lives, given the power and the choices available to them. We hope that Synchronized Chaos embodies that ethic, that we and our contributors and our readers are making the most of all of our lives within what is available to us.

Silence

Quiet… the vastness strides with a silent pace,

whispers await, in secrecy.

Stars tremble, awaiting the sanctity’s blaze,

before the waves, hush your voice silently.

It is a wave of silence deep,

human echoes yearning behind him.

In sacred cup, where secrets repose,

unspoken words strive to redeem.

Chaos whispered in the silence,

guard… eternity and transience struggle.

Inkiness is seeking my compliance,

redemption screams, growing vaster.

Silent plea! May peace resurrect .

let wrath shatter in the hush of light.

In the mirror of dusk, hopes reflect,

in the soft twilight’s tender might.

The beginning and the end! Glory to them,

let the chant sing like a sparkling lullaby,

like mother’s face that you can’t forget,

Prayer chants with the endless sky.

Glory to silence, herald of grace,

it waves shattered strands.

In enchanting depth, like a distant glance,

where last shall be first and first shall be last.

                       Storm

A storm is brewing, in the heart chaos reigns,

Noise dances wild everywhere,

The vessel, delight for timeless wanderer,

Is gliding to my soul carrying an embrace.

A depth of grief in the vast expanse,

without its shield, tears veil the path,

Sorrow emboldens the army of darkness,

captive of tears has no more tears left.

The past, a blade to the stumbling heart,

lifts the veil upon the soul’s capture,

tears are ticking away fast,

none can endure, a silent rapture.

I’m an exile of the infernal mill,

redeemed by majestic grandeur,

before the emperor’s crown… I stand still

it shines marvelous in its splendor

Unnamed song

At the limen of time,

I stand as a stranger

Here, might doesn’t intertwine

soul is a tireless passenger.

We need light, glow of glances,

human heart forgiveness,

we’re yearning a sip of repose,

seeking solace in the stillness.

Weary of darkness, we seek dawn,

I seek those eyes, precious of mine,

woken from the dead, seeking the forgotten

shadow beside me, companion of time.

Though sawn wood whispers time’s embrace,

each grain a tale, a memory traced.

Moments linger like echoes,

In the music of a rhyme as eternity grows. 

Ana Petrovic was born on 05.02.1985 in Serbia, where she currently lives. She wrote a book of poems, but it is not yet published She finished medical school, VI degree. Many songs of hers are published in magazines and portals. Some of them are translated into English. She has been working on special programs with kids who have paralysis cerebralis. She likes working with kids as much as she likes poetry.

   
                                                          Eary Problem

This problem has led to marital problems because of my persistence.  I just don’t want to quit despite its reputations for causing health problems.  I’ve had to have something extracted from my ear canal because of my compulsion, but q-tips feel so good in my ears.  Am I the only one with outer ear itching?

                                                          Head Scratcher

This should be a private vice, but it is so ingrained sometimes I do it in public.  Eczema or dermatitis makes my eyebrows, beard and hair itch.  Nothing I’ve tried has eliminated the dry, itchy rashes.  Quitting drinking would be easier.

                                                           Child (dibble and a half)

My father read the Oz books to my sister and I at bedtime.  To refresh my memory I bought a set of Oz books.  I used to listen to Cinnamon Bear stories in the late ‘40s and early ‘50s.  I bought the cds so I could listen again.  A few years ago I restarted playing softball.  As a child I did childish things.  That still works now that I’m eighty, so I’m keeping at it.

                                                          Negotiation

You will have the sun and the stars.  I’ll take care of you in sickness and health.  You’ll have a lovely home and no worries.  All I ask is that you love me too.
Will you lower my taxes?
I can’t do that.
Then I’m voting for the other guy.

                                                          Maroon

I like my aloha shirts.  I feel that a colorless person - me – should have colorful shirts.  Solids are OK if they are out there – orange or maroon.  My maroon shirt fits well, feels good, and looks good.  It’s OK that it’s a dead man’s shirt.  He can’t use it.

                                                           Joints

Our joints allow us a variety of movements until they don’t.  Learn from this arthritic old man.  Years of jumping from heights, lifting excessive weights with bad form and repetitive strain left me with bad knees, one bad shoulder and one questionable one.  Treat them right and they will last.

                                                       Game Over
 
Last inning, behind by two runs.  I got a walk, and there were three on base.  The next batter could tie or win the game.  The manager replaced two of us with pinch runners, which caused our second and third outs for batting out of order.  We lost, I quit.
                                                        Time

A few months ago, I tried to get in touch with a woman that I went to grade school with to organize another get together.  Cheryl had been an insurance adjuster and had kept track of our grade school graduating class.  She had died in memory care three months ago.

                                                      Rejection?

The response to my submission was “Nicht include”.  Sounded like a rejection.  Was my sub too political?  Should villains have gotten away with plotting the destruction of much of the world?  The next day I got an email explaining that the rejection was a typo.  Story will appear tomorrow.  Woo-hoo!

                                                           Pitch
He had been following her for over an hour.  Just his luck, she walked into an alley.  When he followed her, she reached into her bag.  When he became conscious she was picking up a baseball by his head.  “Don’t stalk the star pitcher on my baseball team you creep.”

                                                         Spill Rules

One second for spilled tequila, whisky, or gin drinks to be sucked out of the carpet.  Chocolate, peanut butter, or wheat thins three second pick up, most other food the usual five seconds.  Brussel sprouts, cauliflower, broccoli, or most cooked vegetables, next time carpet is vacuumed, and into the garbage.

                                                           Scatterbrain


Odd remembrances haunt my lazy, bored brain.  Almost drowning when very young.  The now great grandmother and widow that I made out with sixty years ago.  A small clothing store that I walked past in Portland fifty plus years ago.  The traumatized beauty that abruptly rejected me while in college.


                                               Northeast Portland Years Ago 
 
As a teenager, I was walking through Northeast Portland to get to a friend’s house.  An older male pulled up and asked something like “Do I know you?”  I didn’t and told him so.  He wanted to know if I wanted a ride.  I was a bit nervous and passed. 



                                                                   Oval

Joe asked the man next to him “Do you believe this flying saucer nonsense?”
“No it’s absurd.  The ships are Oval.”
”Huh?”
“Aliens aren’t little green men.  We come in many colors.”
“Where do you get these ideas?”
“I’m an Oval pilot - check my pants.  I’ve got four legs

                                  How Old Do I Look?

About forty on the average.  
What do you mean on the average? 
 Your face is an 80 and your body is a 30.  
Wait a minute, that averages 55.  
Well, the guy part is about 10.
So, to look younger I should stop wearing pants? 

                                               Memories

I worried that I had age-related memory loss.  Editor would tell me it’s a hike day, minutes later I wouldn’t know.  Then I repeatedly saw two men in black suits walking away from me.  Because I had seen the movie, I knew it wasn’t age, it was Men In Black.
 
                                                     The End

light snowfall tonight
but no accumulation
oatmeal for dinner


—


cups of coffee at
eleven-thirty at night
can’t find my ear drops


—


bus leaves without me
guess I’ll stay home & try out
those detergent sheets


—


bio/graf

J. D. Nelson’s poems have appeared in many publications, worldwide, since 2002. He is the author of eleven print chapbooks and e-books of poetry, including *purgatorio* (wlovolw, 2024). Nelson’s first full-length collection is *in ghostly onehead* (Post-Asemic Press, 2022). Visit his website, MadVerse.com, for more information and links to his published work. His haiku blog is at JDNelson.net. Nelson lives in Boulder, Colorado, USA.

La Boheme   class signifiers at intermission




she sucks the juice of grapefruit over the kitchen sink




dozing off in tassel rue
the emptiness
of sin




scent of crushed sage through the loophole in the cinder block wall




the evaporating puddle I'm in




by now he's entering the diamond-mansion heart of Saint Teresa




the liquid mercury nail heads on the gray planks at sunset




the fallen arches of the Donegal mussel catcher




sheltering in place on a hairpin of jade




oatmeal cookies for the unsung genius in plumbing supply




the skinflint's only Latin phrase





six realms and I'm dragging my ass in this one




imprisoned by his attention to the insignificant




in physics, he would entertain no more questions about hula dancers in outer space




why do I have to hear about how miserable you would've been




the accuracy of the mad