“Right from the beginning, I always strived to capture everything I saw as completely as possible.”
••• The Mad Gallery •••
Wall Beneath High Line, NYC – Tony Gentry
To see ALL of Tony’s mad snaps, as well as our other featured artists, visit our Mad Gallery!
••• The Poetry Forum •••
This last week on Mad Swirl’s Poetry Forum… we made star trouble in a Hubble bubble; we did the dishes of fishing for wishes; we talked the talk of an upright walk; we caressed (didn’t prod) an awkward bod; we heard (didn’t stare), though half aware; we took possession of a mad obsession; we died (didn’t thrive) in our nine to five. It’s only a waste when we live it in haste. ~ MH Clay
We are Approaching 50 and We are Scared Because of Our Jobs by Ron Riekki
They are not respectful
Melissa is a clerk and she says
her legs have been chopped off
from standing when she should be sitting.
Joe works in a shoe shop
and says that he would murder
if you could murder a shoe
but you can’t murder a shoe
because he has tried,
taking an ax
to his shoes,
chopping with the assurance
of a salesman.
And I work security,
which means that people talk to me
like I’m a cop
with no authority,
which I am,
letting me know
that it’s OK with them
if I commit suicide
as long as my suicide
is a vacation,
as long as it is quiet and behaved,
locked in a corner
where the magazines
February 2, 2019
editors note: Outrageous! Such flagrant ageism, job-ism, who cares-ism. I’m scared, too. (While we have enjoyed Ron’s work in our Short Stories forum for a few years now, we are pleased to welcome Ron to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read all of his madness, short stories and poems, on his Mad Swirl page) – mh clay
The Hole by Walter Ruhlmann
His obsessions could drive you mad,
they make you feel useful and strong
in the mid-November, warm, low sun,
ants, flies, mosquitoes thrive.
Your obsessions are heavy loads
things you believe to be the truth –
absolute, implacable, unavoidable –
while he keeps on mooning all day.
He feels useless, hollow and cold,
except when he decorated her flat:
pinning your father’s aquarelles
on the abhorrent clinical white walls.
Dizziness as you walked back home,
guts out, sickness, disgust, your eye blinked;
sharp glass debris, broken plastic,
as obsessive as the western wind.
February 1, 2019
editors note: Interior decoration with no innards. – mh clay
Half Eaten Awareness by George Cassidy Payne
Half eaten awareness is
a Tuesday evening tango
at the cold scent of a woman’s
wrinkles. That’s a raisin.
Purple curtains. Perfect strangers.
Knuckle sized sacraments. Chewy,
junipers too leathery to consume.
The dew awakens. Somehow it does.
Ripping through the clutched earth.
Squishy as worms gutted. Those beech
leaves rising like a time before winter-
a time when we first began to listen.
January 31, 2019
editors note: When are what we hear is not so much as when we listen. – mh clay
My Body by Alexandria Biamonte
I’m not sure how to be
What should I do
With my hands,
These clumsy creators
Who do me no favors tonight?
Where am I
Supposed to look?
Or should I just close my eyes?
I need you
To tell me what to do
With this body
That has never been mine.
January 30, 2019
editors note: Seeking an out-of-body experience, body bound. – mh clay
Nothing Special by Joseph Farley
I’m not important.
I know that.
But I like to pretend
that I am.
It makes my legs flow
easier into my trousers.
I walk bolder, more upright,
not quite a king
or even a duke,
just a peasant with swagger
and knives in his eyes.
January 29, 2019
editors note: It’s all pretend; except when the daggers are real. – mh clay
wishing by Milt Montague
I wish it was
the magic mantra of childhood
where all dreams were possible
just by fervent desire
wishing it was so
could realize our fondest visions
knowing that we could
make it so
soon enough we learn
the innocence of childhood
is but a fantasy
but once in a while
it would be nice
if it were so
January 28, 2019
editors note: Why not more than once in a while? If wishes were fishes… – mh clay
Celestial String of Pearls by Harley White
In a Hubble bubble there’s a pearly gate of blue
bridging ancient galaxies in stunning stellar view.
There we see the sky decked out in beaded cosmic bling
of a hundred thousand light-year curly pearly string.
Think of it!– It’s wound around colossal merging hearts
of two galaxies colliding– such are astral arts.
Infant stars in super-clusters form a shining band
of a pearly necklace strung on filamented strand.
Blue-white gems along the chain, of which there are nineteen,
have three thousand light-year spaces lying in between.
This formation will remain a mere ten thousand years
in those arcs empyrean of Hubble bubble spheres.
Many are the fantasies these ornaments evoke.
Some are astronomical, and others quite baroque…
In what giant jewel casket are the treasures kept?
Might they be the teardrops that galactic eyes have wept?
In a Hubble bubble there’s a pearly gate of blue
or a priceless necklace in the imaged point of view.
Do the heavens muse on Man’s tumultuary worth,
as we fuss and frivol on our blue pearl Planet Earth?
January 27, 2019
editors note: Who knows, we might be a link in the ankle chain of a concubine to the cosmic creator; a cluster, if not a cluster f**k. (See the inspiration for these verses from our celestial sister here.) – mh clay
••• Short Stories •••
Here’s what Short Story Editor Tyler Malone’s has to say about this veggie-tale:
“Beat your veggies! Beat your veggies before they beat you!”
(photo “Rise! Rise from the ground, my monsters!” by Ty Malone)
Get your read on right here!
••• Mad Swirl Open Mic •••
Join Mad Swirl this 1st Wednesday of February (aka 02.06.19) at 8:00 SHARP as we swirl up the mic at our mad mic-ness home, The Regal Room (located inside of Independent Bar & Kitchen)!
Mad musical grooves from Swirve (with special guests Jolene Masone on bassoon & Clark Walker on drums) will start us off. 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.
Come to participate.
Come to appreciate.
Come to Swirl-a-brate!
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…
Guest Short Story Editor