“I don’t want to live – I want to love first, and live incidentally.”
••• The Mad Gallery •••
Always Tired – Bleak Teeth
With this one we close out Bleak Teeth’s feature run featuring his gritty & creepy (yet oh so attractive) cast of characters. Stay tuned for our new feature next week! Stay tuned to Mad Swirl’s Mad Gallery!
••• The Poetry Forum •••
This past week on Mad Swirl’s Poetry Forum… we saw a summer scene in a four time haiku dream; we diffused the night, filled black with light; we stars adorned with us reborn; we slurped to sink in demon drink; we grew obtuse from lack of use; we shunned admonishment through self astonishment; we sought the seneschal of the market madrigal. Our voices rise, ever mesmerized by Blavatsky’s eyes. (Write on!) ~ MH Clay
THE SOFT DOMESTIC ECONOMY by Stefanie Bennett
Via the vending maelstrom
I get a blighted
An art deco
Square meals and
Where nothing is
As it seems – plus
July 24, 2021
editors note: The eyes have it. (Just can’t find a cure for it.) – mh clay
I Astonish Myself by Jean Biegun
I astonish myself—
my socks match
I have the concept socks must match
and also I drive a car
Someone thought the thought we should
bustle about in cars
Thus I make my daily runs
in a practical hatchback with low mileage
So many ideas speeding around the planet—
somebody grabs one from a hurricane
and smooths it out
while two others get their hands caught
in a jar of extra-sweet better-mousetrap
that spills over five continents
and here we are souped-up nations
all in matching socks
and sporty sedans
complete with shiny rims on our wheels
July 23, 2021
editors note: …and nowhere to go. – mh clay
Necrotic Diffidence by Henry Bladon
A blackened thumb so you cannot text.
A broken bone.
A blackened banana.
A withered vine.
A plotless novel that nobody reads.
A sink with no plug.
A clock with no hands.
A pointerless exit sign.
A keyholeless keyhole.
A rudderless ship that goes in circles.
A whistle with no pea.
A symphony without a tune.
A pen with no ink.
A map with no markings.
A diffident surgeon.
July 22, 2021
editors note: Here’s the only use for useless. – mh clay
Demons drink too by Iulia Gherghei
She sits there on that high chair
Legs elegantly crossed
Her high heels, arrows of pleasure
Pointing straight to hell
She sips slowly, fixing me to the ground with her stare
Dark, hollow, blasting stare
In her glass, the liquid changes colours
Another sip and I slip under her spell
I gladly surrender to that horrendous heat
I become an empty shell to be filled
with whatever the demon craves
The glass is full again
and on repeat, I pay my sin
Her drink is green now
But I can tell that red becomes her
She starts her journey towards me
The glass gets foggy and then it blasts to shards
Her steps are light but that tormenting heat precedes her
Even my shoelaces melt
She walks, she flies, she passes through me
On my lips, scattered ashes rest
A remainder of hell’s aroma
July 21, 2021
editors note: Just a simple sip from Jekyll to Hyde. Check your demons at the door. – mh clay
Time and Again by Harley White
Time and again at break of morn
a coral tone will dawn adorn.
Magenta heralds night’s release,
a halt in sunlight’s golden fleece
to moon and stars in darkness sworn.
When from the living left forlorn
our earthly mortal days are torn,
is this a mere unsung caprice
time and again,
no threnody on heavens’ horn
with being of existence shorn?
Or could there be a cryptic crease
as part of cosmic masterpiece
where all that died would be reborn
time and again?
July 20, 2021
editors note: Our search won’t cease for that cryptic crease. – mh clay
LIGHT HAIKU by Sam Silva
a light diffuses black
..it lathers the sky that way
…clouds spread like thunder
July 19, 2021
editors note: A light lather is a close shave. – mh clay
4 Haiku: Summer Rain by Padmini Krishnan
a baby sparrow’s
butterflies in silky stem
the fragrance of
immigrant gardener huddled
in a corner
the scent of dried leaves
the sun protrudes
with its lump-sized flesh
July 18, 2021
editors note: Creatures of the same landscape. (We welcome Padmini to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay
••• Short Stories •••
Here’s what Short Story Editor Tyler Malone has to say about this pick’o the week:
“Not everything is Janus, not everything is two-faced. But so much wakes up on the wrong side of the bed.”
Here’s a bit of Harley’s tale to get your read need teased:
(photo “Lush > Rust” by Tyler Malone)
Yet as this new-sprung prince of undiscovered sterling qualities made to enter the immense cordon thorn lance-a-lot barricade the thicknightet hedge theurgically parted only to close again after his advance opening into redolent wild roses devoid of their prior barbed prongs. And even these sweetbriars bent aside and gave way until the now-present-prince found himself in my perfumed palace gardens where winds beleaguered not the boughs and all lay in a languorous lull.…
Still I lie in the eye, the cyclonic eye, of the hurricane of my élan vital… my name writ in water… my mana name writ in… I…
A soul divided against its self, its pneuma holy-goes-self, cannot…
I wait and I wonder… I wonder and wait…
Wonder & wait no longer to get the rest of this read on right here!
••• Open Mic •••
Join Mad Swirl this 1st Wednesday of August (aka 08.04.21) when we’ll once again be doin’ the open mic voodoo that we do do at our new home, BARBARA’S PAVILLION!
Starting at 7:30pm (CST), join hosts Johnny O & MH Clay, along with musical mad grooves from Swirve as we kick off these open mic’n Mad Swirl’n festivities…
Come to participate.
Come to appreciate. (join us LIVE at Barbara’s Pavillion OR tune in to our Facebook LIVE feed starting at 7:30pm (cst))
Come to be a part of this collective creative love child we affectionately call… Mad Swirl!
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 bein’…
Short Story Editor