“What we play is life.”
••• The Mad Gallery •••
This Misfit ~Tyler Malone
••• The Poetry Forum •••
This last week on Mad Swirl’s Poetry Forum… we marked the moon with a lotus bloom; we recalled no kinder toward self reminder; we saw the appeal of a heart-shaped meal; we sported talk of robot walk; we claimed consternation over erstwhile hydration; we were distracted over being refracted; we wound life’s wend with a start at the end. Our words are toys, used to make sense out of white noise. ~ MH Clay
Deathbed : A Custom Tour from Everafter by Steven Minchin
This one will start before you begin
with a twisting insanity and sleep
right next to near
near knowing what you mean
The white noise middle is starting
floating here with so many
while the bright assassin’s still
safeguarding our dormant beginning
His saline born slug waits
as we deepen a groove
already set in rest
rest on a yesterday
A clear channel coast unseen
with a twisting insanity and sleep
he packs his joyous gun for travel
throttles our first dark epiphany
Shot wild now across everything
a flashback thrust at eternity
so we can rise and savor
savor ending as the dream
August 3, 2019
editors note: Endings to beginnings to white noise in between; not so dark after all. – mh clay
Collision by Bhargab Chatterjee
A flight for a special agendum
is convened. The sky is cut
into two pieces through referendum.
of the electorate
are superfluously organic.
“I am” is diagonally refracted
through the thick glass of being
and falls on the green algae
collisions neither sink nor swim.
Here I feel,
“I am alone in this white street lined with gardens.”
August 2, 2019
editors note: Existential dodge ball, “I am” or not. – mh clay
The word not said after 4 dry weeks by Dan Raphael
I knew the drain brain strain
the sssiss of tires on wet streets
the highway seems half volume or twice as far
wading birds, fishing birds, birds that can drink a gallon at a time
eyes like aquariums, ponds of something thicker than water
with the busiest possible complexion
If I let my hands out in it they might not want to come in
till they lost all sense of direction and body temp
a sky so thick it begins to show cracks, loss of cohesion
even in times of surplus there’s no fair distribution
Do I dry my hair or my feet first,
these rare days my arm pits stay dry
times when looking up is losing focus, increased risk
no matter how regular the surface,
times when the smoothest are the biggest threat
not a time for dancing shoes, breathable shoes, exposed socks
When our driveway becomes lake country
when people move quickly with tunnel vision
mornings I’m unsure where I am or how I got here
August 1, 2019
editors note: In a drought dither; hair or feet, no matter. Hydrate when you can. – mh clay
ok march one by J.D. Nelson
sports talk in the background
wood & water
wood & water
welding classes coming soon
none beginning nine
a walk in the fog tonight
a good walk for robots
July 31, 2019
editors note: From the action to the time, when is your fruit? – mh clay
plucking the moon by Abdulrahman M Abu-Yaman
I will pluck the moon
down to earth
and scrape it’s craters
in the kitchen with graters
to erase it’s flaws. I’d cut
the revised lunar version into
tit-bits configured like the
shape of your heart, steam
them using a
19th century bordeaux and served
in a silver dish
when you’re done dining, i
needn’t declare you the
queen of the night, for the
globe shall feel glittering
gleams emit from the
edifice of our domicile
July 30, 2019
editors note: Here’s the best home cooking. Bon appetit! – mh clay
I Had a Girl Ask Me to Marry Her After a Month by Ron Riekki
I could imagine her going to the dentist and saying, “You wanna do a coronary bypass on me today?”
Or her going to the zoo and asking the workers if they wanted to open up all the gates.
Or her going to a tattoo artist and saying, “Cover my entire back. With whatever you want. I trust you.”
I’m not somebody you marry. Hell, I’m not even somebody you hire. If you don’t believe me, just ask the long list of my previous job interviewers. They all looked at me and said, “I would not marry you.”
My parents’ dog loves me though, so that’s pretty awesome. She licks my face and I run to the bathroom yelling, “Gross!”
I used to do security at a town dump where people could take or leave anything they wanted. It was next to a skiing area called Suicide Hill. True story.
As an EMT, I transported a woman who said she was a vampire. I thought she might try to bite me, so I didn’t take her blood pressure. We took her to a psych ward. When I went inside, I whispered to the nurse that the patient thinks she’s a vampire and the nurse said, “Then let’s get her to bed before the sun comes up.”
The best girl I ever got to sleep with was one who wouldn’t have sex with me. We just slept. But she was really good at it. She was warm and soft and smelled like dice.
I watched the entire first season of Breaking Bad alone in the office where I worked in China. The boss said I could use the company’s DVD player. The only problem was that the office was supposed to be haunted, so it created all this extra tension to the show. I’d press pause sometimes and listen, worried that I’d heard something that was sneaking up to kill me. Then I’d go back to watching the teacher destroy his life. It reminded me of me.
July 29, 2019
editors note: The best answer to the question,”Where do you see yourself in 5 years?” …still as me (I hope). – mh clay
Lotus in a crescent moon by Hem Raj Bastola
The bell of light.
In every day break,
Riding seven horses of the sun
The disc of heaven
Came out from the east.
Glittering in the waters
Here the water is not clean anymore.
Here the soul is not clean anymore.
Here the nature is not clean anymore.
The world of material greed:
Destroying the value, of spirit!
Value, of nature.
And I envision
Terror struck in a dream:
Land shake, slide and churn,
With big waves, like the fountain flush
Jumping high and resting low,
As the cataract.
Overlap the plates and swap.
Like in the hands of a waiter.
This change in nature, inviting Shiva!
The universal, preparing to perform
His cosmic dance of death.
Here, my despondent
And salubrious appeal
To stop the end and to irradiate
Thundering to open: the veins of spring.
When will echo the smile
Of the earth again?
In order to acclaim the peace,
Fertile seeds of my brain,
Musing to plant the lotus
In the crescent moon.
July 28, 2019
editors note: A little horticulture; seasonal blooms to irradiate the peace. Yes! – mh clay
••• Short Stories •••
This week’s Need-a-Read feed comes to us from longtime Contributing Writer & Poet, Gayle Bell!
Here’s what Short Story Editor Tyler Malone has to say about this pick of the week story, “Aint It Like“:
“Just another massive night when life finds ways to fly, crash, then rise to lift it all again to the skies with the taste of dance and dirt in its teeth”
(photo “After Party” by Tyler Malone)
••• Open Mic •••
Join Mad Swirl THIS 1st Wednesday of August (aka 08.07.19) as at 8:00 SHARP as we swirl it up at our Mad mic loco home, RUINS!
To start us off, Chris Curiel’s Swirve (with special guest Stephan Gonzalez!) will start us off with some Mad musical grooves. After that, join in & share in the Mad Swirl’n festivities.
Come to be a part of this collective creative love child we affectionately call Mad Swirl Open Mic.
Come to participate.
Come to appreciate.
Come to Swirl-a-brate!
P.S. To get a spot on our pre-list, all you gotta do is give us a “Going” on our FB event page and check-in the night of!
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