“Imagination is the eye of the soul.” ~ Joseph Joubert
••• The Mad Gallery •••
••• The Poetry Forum •••
This last week in Mad Swirl’s Poetry Forum… we acquiesced arborially; we perused an apple bruise; we watched hate come with swipe of thumb; we crooned a swoon song; we danced to free bird eternal; we hitched a ride in god’s machine; we loved another, sleek and clean. Putting pen to metal, pulling Deus Ex. ~ MH Clay
She whispers to me by Johnny Olson
She whispers to me
Lures me in
With open arms
But then again…
She’s always ready
I gently caress her
And she greets me
With her seductive smile
Her sultry purr
She’s always so
But I’m no fool
I respect her wild fiery
Wide chromed hips
I know she’s in charge
She’s thrown me & shown me
A time or two
I ride her curves
Her fine figure glides
I hold her tightly
Her rubber kisses
Caress the concrete canvas
Her bright eye lights
Pierce the tunnel night
We fly by cages
Waging silent bets on
What move we’ll make next
Heading home thru
Sleeping Big D streets
Keeping our beat
Our moans get thrown
Playfully ricocheting off
Urban canyon walls
We become one
Her heartbeat pistons
Twisting and turning
Our journey swirlin madly
As our smooth move grooves
Burn the miles away
May 6, 2017
editors note: Ain’t no love like scooter love! – mh clay
Arguing with love in the city, IV by Tristan Cody
Pontiac purrs soft
in the carcass field/garage
where god [quiet] walks.
May 5, 2017
editors note: Yes, a place to purr. – mh clay
Moon Over Eufaula, Oklahoma by John Dorsey
for Victor Clevenger
just south of muskogee
dumpster cats guard crumbling pyramids
& discarded bbq grills
in the moonlight
the creek nation girls still dance
in honor of their own virginity
covered in dust
& humble bones
yelling free bird lives
free bird lives
here everyone is loyal
& your breath just hangs there
as heavy as a cloud
& apartments are shaped
& the outline of a girl’s hips
in the shadow of a lonely gas station
can still transport you back
to a better time.
May 4, 2017
editors note: free bird lives, yes! – mh clay
swoon by Kristine Spinner
I have fallen under a swoon. I no longer breathe air. I am under water and breathing fire. There is magic flowing through my veins supplying my every atom with a flicker, a quiver. The constant vibration passes through me and spreads outward whispering up the backs of strangers expelling a song that surges forth from the depths of their souls but only I can hear them singing.
shhh, it’ll be our secret.
May 3, 2017
editors note: shhh… (We welcome Kristine to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay
Odd by Timothy Pilgrim
Folks don’t send cards now,
write happy holidays,
lick the glue, add stamps.
Busy instead, stand off,
emoji, scoff, use tired thumbs
to text or tweet. Weird, too,
tendencies, let cruel jokes pass,
ridicule gays, label women
slut or tramp. Who groped whom,
grabbed whose ass. Way too easy,
alone, head down, virtually together,
busy with phone. Most odd, sad
in a huge way, people loving love
less than loving to hate.
May 2, 2017
editors note: Sad, we sods, for whom this is not so odd. – mh clay
Bruised Skins by Heather M. Browne
Sometimes apples do fall far
Splitting with that smack
Ground a hard place to fall
Open hands aren’t always welcome, wanted
You said you were strong stock
The salt of the earth
Too much is deadly
And you, an expert at slicing things thin
Not one to waste
You can always chop off bruising
May 1, 2017
editors note: Pie baking? Concession making (only a pinch of salt). – mh clay
Trees Yield by KJ Hannah Greenberg
To grass or shore.
Budding boughs, shoots,
Defined by vertiginous
Stems, two leaves wide,
Yellow-green life passels
Pressed like hands, jointly
Ever so freely.
April 30, 2017
editors note: Imparters sate takers, never sated. Breathe deeply – while we can. (Channie’s got a new book out, Can I Be Rare, Too?, available on Amazon here.) – mh clay
••• Short Stories •••
Need-a-Read? Well need no further because we got just the read to fill you up!
Here’s what guest short story editor, MH Clay has to say about this week’s featured read:
“Can’t have brand-spankin’, when pre-owned is all you can afford. World – 1; Young Love – 1/2. Go Team!”
Here’s a few bites to feed your need-a-read appetite:
(photo by The Second Shooter)
Rubber tires don’t stick to asphalt in August as boys stick to bragging while drinking. Longnecks and short stories in a shuttlebus jammed on a Texas highway nowhere near wide enough. “Don’t say anything about what we’re talking about, we’re different. We just needed to get out of high school and grow.”
I assure groomsmen and their groom I’m as trustworthy as the dead.
“All that matters,” continues the best man, the library of a groom’s affairs, “was none of us were with the same girl.”
The groomsman, still smelling of youth and aggression, leans in from the seat behind me as sweat pearls break free from his hairline. “A town of 3,000 is a shallow pool. Same rules too. Have too much fun and end up with a broken neck.”
“Us city boys give you all our pity.”
“We never wanted anything from a city, just occasional handjobs.”
“And,” says the groom, remembering his present day no matter how slow we journey under skyscraper shadows, “a place to get married.”
Smoke rolls in a reverse waterfall a hundred yards in front of our bus. The groomsman, driving the re-purposed church shuttle stuck with a greased dancing pole and a tessellated disco ball enflamed with sunlight, runs his hand over his newly shaved neck, feeling the tingle of pared hairs becoming damp in heat. “Looks like a wreck ahead.”
Ignoring what’s behind us, we look to destruction.
“That’s turning into a goddamn inferno,” cuts in the youngest groomsman’s older brother. “That’s the city for you,” says the groom.
“A place to get married or a place to die in a fire.” The groomsman from the back of the bus sits with his beer can like a man who holds God in the palm of his hand. “That’s the same thing. This is your wedding ceremony, right, on a stagnant highway in flames?”…
Read the rest of “Blanco” right here!
••• Open Mic •••
This past 1st Wednesday of May (aka 05.03.17) Mad Swirl kicked off the 2nd Annual Dr. Googily-Eyes Healing Circus & Mad Swirlin’ Medicine Show: Inciting the Rise of YES and the Fall of NO.
We YES’d it up in the swirlin’ mad live way that we do every month. Our purpose to invoke positivity was quite successful thanks to all the mad poets, performers and musicians!
Here’s a shout out to all who graced us with their words, their songs, their divine madnesses…
(click on the pic to get ’em movin’!)
photos courtesy of Dan “the man” Rodriguez
Mad Mic Cast:
Brett “BA” Ardoin
James “Bear” Rodehaver
HUGE thanks to Swirve (Tamitha Curiel, Gerard Bendiks & Chris Curiel) for taking us to another dimension of time and space on the wings of their jazzy madness!
More HUGE thankseses to City Tavern’s Thad Kuiper & Noble Tse for makin’ our stay most righteous.
And lastly, but not leastly, thanks to all who came out to the Tavern & shared this beat-utifullest night of poetry and music with us!
May the madness swirl your way! ’til next 1st Wednesday…
P.S. Click here if you wanna see the LIVE feed action of our OPEN MIC set.
The whole Mad Swirl of everything to come keeps on keepin’ on… now… now… NOW! Every second, every minute, every hour, every day, every week, every month, every year, every decade, every every EVERY there is! Wanna join in the mad conversations going on in Mad Swirl’s World? Then stop by whenever the mood strikes! We’ll be here…
Short Story Editor