The Best of Mad Swirl : 06.12.21

The Best of Mad Swirl : 06.12.21
"Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot; but make it hot by striking." William Butler Yeats ••• The Mad Gallery ••• A New Day A New Emptiness - Tyler Malone With this one we end Tyler’s feature run in our Mad Gallery. But don’t you fret, we’ve got a new artist coming your way real soon! Stay[read more]

The Best of Mad Swirl : 06.05.21

The Best of Mad Swirl : 06.05.21
"Creativity is piercing the mundane to find the marvelous." Bill Moyers ••• The Mad Gallery ••• Pour One Out - Tyler Malone To witness more of Tyler's poignant photos, as well as our other former featured artists (over 50 in total), take a virtual stroll thru Mad Swirl’s Mad Gallery! ••• The Poetry Forum ••• This past week on Mad Swirl’s Poetry Forum...[read more]

Note of Gratitude to the Mad Ones : 06.02.21

Note of Gratitude to the Mad Ones : 06.02.21
If you tuned in to Mad Swirl Open Mic this past 1st Wednesday of June (aka 06.02.21), you know that Mad Swirl once again virtually whirled up the Swirl and got the Mad mic opened for all you Mad ones out there! Here’s a shout out to all who Zoom’d on in & graced us with[read more]

The kohl eyed lady from the midlands

Lying naked for hours together, we escaped to Wales for weeks.
You sang to me of Codeine, the vivid extraction process,
Sketched, step by step, in your journal.
The skeleton faces, your naked breasts, distilled encryptions-
Your self-portraits of your black hole flashes, your head rested on corners of the walls, trauma.
Existential fears, childhood, youth, substance, punk, abuse. My silent heaves.
Your sublime eyeliner presence, your aesthetic body, voice like that of the winds of the woods.
Watching the Bloodstock photos together, you sketched abstract images on my bare back.
How you coloured my nails with different shades. I miss cooking
For you when you were unwell. How you panicked when I became unconscious,
Testing my pulses every 5 minutes. Death then would have been a perfect ending.
The drunk impromptu singing sessions; the crazy Valentine’s feedback, ruminations about benzodiazepines
And opioids. The silent metro rides, drunk screams at pubs. The kitchen smoke. And, how I
Would always end up running down to your house through the grey late night,
Lost, every time, when all the gates are closed.
Only to taste your folklore dreamscape and the pasta that you would cook.
Colours of all colours, oh, the queen of anarchist performance masks!

All I am left with now are your whispers,
Some torn pages from your journals and a frozen
Rose that you had put between my teeth.

Recently Published

And I imagine

Obscure still!

Humid veils
Of thought,
Venting mutely;
Silent world
Of shadows.

Devout artist, dig.
Neverland seeking,
Rubbernecking spirit.
Begetting progeny:
Parcel of the seed.

Rind is peeled,
Content served,
The ink spilled;
To entertain:
The dreams.

And I imagine.[read more]

I am paused.

I am paused, it would seem.
What once thumbed eyelids open
mid-slumber to catch a phrase
in the act of art-making,
oblivious to its inopportune timing,
itself now surrenders to[read more]

The Two of You

You’ve really taken over,
Haven’t you?
My heart, my mind.
Every waking moment
Is dedicated to you
And often I dream of you.
I can’t write.
I can’t work.
My creativity[read more]

The Life and Death of Dave Adamson

The Life and Death of Dave Adamson

A scream runs through the street. A young couple sees what they’ll talk about until they’re old: a time, together, when they saw a body on a sidewalk. The couple hold one another and their breaths until police and emergency services arrive. No one offers a “Poor bastard” as those living gather to see where life goes. There’s something about knowing in an instant what’s without life. A gutted building or abandoned car are the same as a dead man’s body. Police tell the couple to leave. As they do, they[read more]
The Man with a Cane

The Man with a Cane

I’ve been shopping at divergent Italian fruit stores in the Milan suburbs: one has sweet Calabrese navel oranges for a euro a kilo, another has Colombian bananas for the same price. We rarely pay any more than a euro a kilo for all fruit and vegetables. Sicilian red oranges are currently 79 cents a kilo, but I sometimes find them for 50 cents. This week the weather is forecast sunny with highs of 18 oC. It’s good news for sportsmen and women like my wife Angela and myself. Heaven knows the[read more]
Green Witch

Green Witch

Once, not terribly long ago, there lived a green witch. It might be assumed that she dwelled in a ramshackle hut, yet she lived in a tiny house designed by the famous draughtman, Donald Alaska. Donald’s creation had two lofts, a woodburning stove, a deck, and a large kitchen sink. Additionally, his architecture featured a cat door, staircase storage, and huge, double-hung sash windows. That domicile was not located deep in a forest, but at the juncture of a mature copse and a “neglected” field. Its kitchen window opened to a[read more]