The Best of Mad Swirl : 06.27.15

The Best of Mad Swirl : 06.27.15
••• The Mad Gallery ••• “Stay Syrbarite Stay” (above) by featured artist Paula “Pd” Lietz. To see more Mad works from Pd, and our other contributing artists, please visit our Mad Gallery. “Poetry is a matter of life, not just a matter of language.” ~ Lucille Clifton ••• The Poetry Forum ••• This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum...[read more]

Mad Swirl Open Mic : 07.01.15

Mad Swirl Open Mic : 07.01.15
Join Mad Swirl this 1st Wednesday of July (aka July 1st) at 8:00 sharp, when we will swirl it up madly in the LIVE way that we do every month now for OVER 10 years! This month we are featuring the dynamic musical duo of John Kelley & Stefan Prigmore! After our feature set we[read more]

The Best of Mad Swirl : 06.20.15

The Best of Mad Swirl : 06.20.15
“Impulse” (above) by featured artist Paula “Pd” Lietz. To see more Mad works from Pd, and our other contributing artists, please visit our Mad Gallery. “That's one of the great things about poetry; one realises that one does one's little turn - that you're just part of the great crop, as it were.” ~ Paul Muldoon •••[read more]

Sleep Madrigal

Sleep’s the Great Healer—
Sleep’s the Revealer

of hidden meanings,
unbidden gleanings.

When sorrow aches us,
Sleep overtakes us—

stealing away grief,
like a welcome thief.

Night is the coverlet
for a longing lover— yet
it’s Sleep who delves

deep into our selves,
finding dusty dreams… on shadowy shelves.

When life’s a jailor,
Sleep’s the unveiler

of an inner key…
to set us free.

Sleep’s our best friend
at a hard day’s end—

weaver of fantasy… with reality,
make-believer of what could be…

Sleep’s the Great Healer… of you and me.

Recently Published

I Love Words

I love to tumble, climb, and soar—
to rollick and frolic in words.

I love to mumble, rhyme, and roar—
compose a bucolic,
satire vitriolic,
write lines epistolic,
to be hyperbolic—

 

I[read more]

Reflections

Notice the non mirror image,
stripped backing, a window
and you are a tree, a bird singing,
a car goes by with the boom, Boom, BOOM,
you are an[read more]

Your average Muslim Joe and Mary

Eradicated en masse by the Muslim fundamentalists for not being Muslim enough and siding with the West

Tried unilaterally in the media, embarrassed, condemned, regarded with[read more]

Waiting Room Madness

Waiting Room Madness

You know the waiting as well as I do. You hate it too. The terrible waiting. The time you dread more than a five-foot needle stuck in your backside. You feel the rage. You work harder than hell for some decent medical insurance only to wait like a flea-bitten dog for a miserable bone. Waiting in line to fill out a form. Waiting for a bubblegum-smacking bimbette to point out a pale plastic seat. The terrible waiting in a terrible waiting room. A color-coded monstrosity overflowing with wheezing zombies staring at[read more]
Ten Minutes and One Second

Ten Minutes and One Second

King’s Dominion, July 28, 2009, 5:50 PM. Sharp beaver claws and teeth gnawing, grasping; broad flat tails slapping. They walked along on the crowded hot blacktop. What a day we have had here don’t you think? Yes—I’m pooped. Gnaw—gnaw the wood. Must have wood. Must have lots of wood. Find wood. Look—a Fudge and Fun stand. Want to have some? The sun beamed down from low over the buildings across the way. Oh yes—we need some dessert—here—here let’s walk in the shade it’s hot. Logs vertical across the stream spaced apart; logs and branches horizontal between the logs tight[read more]
THE WEDDING SINGER

THE WEDDING SINGER

Frankie Mann operated a small, Brooklyn music office. He often hired a junkie sax player named Freddie. Frankie’s father, Mambo, was a gangster down in Florida. He financed Frankie as a front. He also used a fat singer named Peter Vallone, who told jokes, usually with an Italian accent. Now Doctor Frankel stared kindly at Brown. Frankel sat erect in his chair. The speaker went on. “It’s their wedding night. They”re in the mother”s house in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. The guy has four toes missing on his left foot. The bride, who[read more]