WHAT’S NEW

The Best of Mad Swirl : 06.03.23

The Best of Mad Swirl : 06.03.23
Follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness. Allen Ginsberg ••• The Mad Gallery ••• "Medusa’s Story" ~ Luanne Castle To see all of Luanne’s hauntingly whimsical collages, as well as our other resident artists (50 and counting!) take a virtual stroll thru Mad Swirl’s Mad Gallery! ••• The Poetry Forum ••• This past week on Mad Swirl’s Poetry Forum... we[read more]

Mad Swirl Open Mic : 06.07.23

Mad Swirl Open Mic : 06.07.23
Join Mad Swirl this 1st Wednesday of June (aka 06.07.23) as we do the open mic voodoo that we do do at our OC home, BARBARA’S PAVILLION as well as from our Mad Zoom Room (broadcasted via FB Live)! Starting at 7:30pm, join hosts Johnny O & MH Clay as we will kick off these open[read more]

The Best of Mad Swirl : 05.27.23

The Best of Mad Swirl : 05.27.23
Nobody is ordinary if you know where to look. Maeve Binchy ••• The Mad Gallery ••• "1990 the preface to my manifesto" ~ Luanne Castle To see all of Luanne’s hauntingly whimsical collages, as well as our other resident artists (50 and counting!) take a virtual stroll thru Mad Swirl’s Mad Gallery! ••• The Poetry Forum ••• This past week on Mad[read more]

POETRY FORUM

The Final Act

by Guest Poet
Look outside,
there’s a little sun left over the bay.
If you’re still hungry stick a hook through my lip
and cast me out.
I’ll hold my breath and sink to the bottom,
dig my feet into the sand
until a clam bites my big toe.
If I find enough we can take the catch
to New York
and sell it on the old Bowery.
There’s a tent there with a tank
full of dead manatees called
The Mermaid Mausoleum.
My mom took me to see it on my sixth birthday.
The ticket came with a free photograph
and a piece of Bubble Yum.
Maybe my picture is still on the wall.
Maybe we can refill my well of hate
that’s been running dry for years.
The sun’s gone down now.
No planes.
No moon.
It’s seemed like the end of my whole life I think.
And tonight I’ll go to sleep under stars
dead before the first man,
wondering why it’s taken so long for us,
hoping the credits roll soon.

– Scott Laudati

Recently Published

Mockingbird Messenger

by Scott Thomas Outlar
I sing in the rain to restore
the soul of this fallen world

and it’s not like I’m the greatest guy
to ever flick his tongue with a[read more]

Songs of the Birds

by Guest Poet
Returned by the winds that carry
Replaced by the winds that drift
The melodies of our mothers and hymns to our fathers
I’m a flower—what flowers are to[read more]

churchbells

by Dan Spencer
churchbells ring from the nearby shrine
through empty Sunday streets
memories of Durango and Cosenza we brought here
the bones and stone tools of mound builders & mammoth[read more]

SHORT STORIES

On the Shore of Walden Pond

On the Shore of Walden Pond

by Jim Bates
The Boss droned on. “Yes, and next quarter we project earnings of…” Stifling a yawn, he adjusted his tie and feigned attention, nodding occasionally like a good employee should. In his mind, though, it was different. In his mind, he journeyed back across time and space to Walden Pond and the home of Henry David Thoreau. “Hi. Welcome.” Thoreau greeted him, smiling through his bushy beard. He adjusted his straw hat and patted the log he was sitting on. “Come over here. Sit down and join me.” The request seemed perfectly natural, so[read more]
Big Wheels Keep on Turning

Big Wheels Keep on Turning

by Jeff Bender
As signs of winter deepen, our yard could be mistaken for a small mammal petting zoo. We have already had one serious bout of ice and snow, but in our yard, it’s raining squirrels. At any one time, dozens of them rush around as if it’s Black Friday, pushing and shoving, barking at each other for the last discounted acorn on the shelf. These rodents have a heyday tearing up the landscape, so I trap them and cart them off to the Candy Cane Forest where they can look furry[read more]
Final Words

Final Words

by N.T. Franklin
“I’m taking the boat on a maiden voyage this afternoon,” Thomas announced. “Honey, you only picked it up yesterday, shouldn’t a used boat be checked over before it’s taken out on the ocean?” “Checked out, shmecked out. You’re just like your dad. It was fine before it was taken out of the water, it’s fine now.” He looked over the top of Sarah’s blonde head at the three towheads sitting at the breakfast table, all dressed in pink. “I’ve never been able to do a thing right, according to your dad. I’m going[read more]