Category Archives: synthesis

Synthesis

Synthesis (sin’-the-sis): An apt arrangement of a composition, especially regarding the sounds of adjoining syllables and words.


I dreamed again of fields of diamonds glistening in the sun—projecting fiery shards of a powerfully colored spectrum of light. I was harvesting diamonds, picking up the biggest ones from the ground and stuffing them in the red silk sack hanging from my shoulder. The sack said “Three Beers,” the name of the mining company growing the diamonds in the fields, which were in Southern New Jersey, in the Pine Barrens near Buddtown. The fields are surrounded by electrified fences, CCTV, minefields and patrolling thugs from Philadelphia and New York armed with grenade launchers, 60mm mortars, and AR15s.

The harvested diamonds were loaded into armored dump trucks, covered with tarps, driven in a heavily armed convoy to New York, and delivered to The Diamond District to be cut, polished, graded, and sold.

My vivid detailed dreams, recurring over and over again became an obsession. Alone, I began scouring the Pine Barrens in my imagination, knowing I was acting like a mad man, and knowing I would never find the Diamond fields. Yet, my dream wouldn’t cease, as though it somehow connected to my waking life. I dropped out of school when I was sixteen so I could devote every minute of my life to the diamond hunt. My father called me a moron, my mother cried and my little brother wanted to quit the 3rd grade and come with me. I went to Dick’s and bought a back pack, a tent, a sleeping bag, a lantern, a cook stove, eating utensils, a water bottle, a can opener, a Swiss Army knife, some fishing gear, Bic lighters, and a single-barrel .410 shotgun. I had a Sportsman’s license, so I thought I would bag the occasional bass or squirrel, or rabbit and make a meal. I spent all the money I had. I hitch-hiked to Buddtown, found a trailhead, and started walking.

I was like a human bloodhound—sweeping every inch of sand and dirt in front of me, sometimes on my knees. After two weeks, I was ready to quit and go back to school. Since I’d been diamond hunting, my dreams had gone away. Then, one early morning I saw an old main kneeling by the trail and holding something between his thumb and forefinger and holding it up to the light, moving it around, and looking at it.

When he saw me, he pulled out a pistol, pointed it at me, and yelled “Get the hell outta here!” The pistol was old and rusty, and I was sure it wouldn’t work—it looked like something from the 18th century, and so did he. When I called his bluff, he disappeared. But he left what he had been peering at on the ground. It was a shard from a Coke bottle, probably from the early 20th century. That did it! I yelled “Glass!” I flipped out. I lit my backpack on fire, left all my stuff at my camp, except for the .410. Then I woke up—it was another damn dream. I felt a stinging in my hand. I had a small cut on the palm of my hand. There was blood on my sheet, but my hand had scabbed over. I jumped out of bed, fearful that I’d be cut again. I examined the sheets and found a small piece of greenish glass.

The cut hand drove the Diamond Dream Demons out of my head. Now, I have recurring dreams about my 7th Grade teacher. In the dreams, we sit naked on the beach at the Jersey Shore, and she tutors me in math while I sip a bottle of Coke.


Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99.

Synthesis

Synthesis (sin’-the-sis): An apt arrangement of a composition, especially regarding the sounds of adjoining syllables and words.


I was surrounded by artichokes, following the slowpokes seeking the Great Artichoke. It was no joke, these oldsters believed they could retrieve their youth—their hair, their waistlines, their butts, and more—by drinking the artichoke’s juice. They all certainly did need some physical restoration, but the notion of a giant therapeutic artichoke somewhere in the fields of Castroville was, to put it mildly, crazy.

They’d heard about Giant Artichokes on one of those alt-right podcasts, where they also learned that Joe Biden is a robot controlled by a Chinese restaurant owner working for the Chinese communist government. Accordingly, we should listen to nothing Biden says, or we will be “communified” and become “brain slaves” of the Chinese government. The show’s host, Rev. Sky Goshawk, sells a number of snake oils: Sin-Free Pork Rinds, Fudge Blessings, Exploding Satan Chasers, and more. The podcast is called “Poisoned Minds,” and it does just that.

My job at the nursing home is to take 4 to 6 people on day trips once-a-week. That’s how I ended up in the artichoke field, wondering what the foray would yield. Probably a chorus of complaining oldsters badmouthing Rev. Goshawk. Then, Mr. Blanko, a decrepit mess of a man, yelled “There it is.!” And there it was: a ten-foot high artichoke. They all had aluminum straws they had purchased from “Poisoned Minds.” They jammed them into the giant artichoke and started sucking away. Old Mrs. Phipps was the first to show effects. She patted her butt and said softly, “What do you think of this?” She went from 80 to 30 in a flash. She was beautiful, with the benefit of her age and experience, she was perfect. All my charges were now in their thirties. I couldn’t wait to show the giant artichoke to the world—what an amazing “cure” to the aging process, plus, I had fallen in love with Mrs. Phipps.

We got back to the home around eight. Everybody was shocked when they saw my passengers. They all wanted to go to the fields, but we talked them down and promised that we would all go tomorrow.

Mrs. Phipps and I slept together that night. When I woke up the next morning, there was an naked old woman lying next to me. It was Old Mrs. Phipps. I shrieked and jumped out of bed. She sat up and said “Oh dear, I must drink more giant artichoke juice.” We got in my car and drove to the artichoke fields. We looked, and looked, and looked but we couldn’t find the giant artichoke.

I was heartbroken, disgusted and confused. When we returned to the home, I sprinted up the stairs, packed and ran back down to my car. The group I’d taken to the fields came running out of the home yelling “Take us back!” They got to my car and started rocking it back and forth. I slammed it in gear, floored it, and took off in a cloud of dust.

“Are you ok?” I asked. Mrs. Phipps answered “Yes” from the floor behind my seat.


Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99.

A video reading is on YouTube: Johnnie Anaphora

Synthesis

Synthesis (sin’-the-sis): An apt arrangement of a composition, especially regarding the sounds of adjoining syllables and words.


Below, coral branches create a corridor of color, casting shadows on white and pink sand indented with ripples like sunken dunes. All I can hear is my slow breathing, tuning my body to the slipping currents. There’s more below me that I want to see, but that will have to wait. I lift my head from the water and swim toward shore.


Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99.

Synthesis

Synthesis (sin’-the-sis): An apt arrangement of a composition, especially regarding the sounds of adjoining syllables and words.

We had a way with waves, riding on the surly sea like answers to questions or words wrought to rhyme.

The ocean overlaps the sand and we slide onto the beach, each one of us grateful for the ride. Now its time to light a fire, feel the warmth, have a swig of wine and passionately wish this time won’t end.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99.

Synthesis

Synthesis (sin’-the-sis): An apt arrangement of a composition, especially regarding the sounds of adjoining syllables and words.

There is enough beach to teach us a thing or two. This time of the year it’s empty. In a month or two you will be back here, hair blowing in the wind, swimsuit on, sun shining: a perfect day to get away from all your fears. You will ride the surf toward shore, step off your board and do it again.

Summer is the angel of time: absorb the beauty. Live well!

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99.

Synthesis

Synthesis (sin’-the-sis): An apt arrangement of a composition, especially regarding the sounds of adjoining syllables and words.

I struggle every day with this traumatic century. And sleep comes hard. Always vigilant, always on guard, I fear the unexpected because I don’t know what to expect.  Feeling vulnerable and unprotected I sleep with a brick beneath my pillow, six locks on my door, bars on my windows, and a pit bull on patrol; in control of mauling whatever picks my locks or chops down my flimsy apartment door.

Does anybody else live like me? Behind a tiny peephole with a deeply troubled soul, listening to random gunshots, barking sirens and a blind one-handed neighbor talking all night long? Alone, she babbles on. She longs for love. She longs for God. She longs for noisy war, and always near sunrise, she longs the most for her forever lost Victoria’s Secret thong.

  • Post your own synthesis on the “Comments” page!

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Synthesis

Synthesis (sin’-the-sis): An apt arrangement of a composition, especially regarding the sounds of adjoining syllables and words.

I will will to be—so free to be the sign on the wall, a waterfall, a song singing softly at the edge of what you said right before we went to bed and slipped along the sloping night, the holy night, the gauzy night, hot and not, and never right—together, two feathers flicking off the stars, touching each other’s scars in the dim honesty of darkness and the healing glow of sleep.

  • Post your own synthesis on the “Comments” page!

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Synthesis

Synthesis (sin’-the-sis): An apt arrangement of a composition, especially regarding the sounds of adjoining syllables and words.

What a wonderful way to while away the day. Walking along the Bahamian beach–warm waves washing across my feet. I came here from the snow, and now I know why we fly from nearly anywhere to get here–where the days fade into nights, the weather is just right, my cell phone’s gone dead, and what’s right here, right now, fills my head with the promise of another day away.

  • Post your own synthesis on the “Comments” page!

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).