The Best of Mad Swirl : 09.17.22

by on September 18, 2022 :: 0 comments

“I only give expression to the instincts from my soul.

M. F. Husain

••• The Mad Gallery •••

“Frightened (3)” ~ Thomas Riesner

To see all Thomas’ wicked squiggles, 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 curdled from cow in a silent vow; we sought some relief from dicked up belief; we forgiven would be through apologies; we BBQ went with an ubermensch; we felt no stress to leave a mess; we saw the good in our neighborhood; we in star tide moon glow walked out but didn’t go. Every stop is a start, each end begins anew. ~ MH Clay

On The Walk Out by Ken Edward Rutkowski

I hear nothing other than motors propelling out past the island chortling under water black deep receding tide night train on Lady’s eye walk down past the spit crustaceans crackling trained feeling see the big light shine look up moon the stars hold on brine home Bobbing up in the morning now I know about night past the jagged rocks the murky line outside time come and get me I hear no stars to achieve here we’re not in warm water anymore comes a call in the background been out at sea since May for months molten river rocks oysters cut in pain small delight I see back home come walking out to me a sound behind the shells stay here bound by stars the outline kindly installed create monitoring sky map the Cape no run no spray the motor is humming it rains this morning comes in stands this rap staying with me a plant tree in the wind straight up backbone no windows start laying apply sculpt back the need to go to bed come in don’t go.

September 17, 2022

editors note: How to manage your monotony. – mh clay

End Times by Mickey J. Corrigan

We live on an island
harsh sun unveils daily
our tiny floral cottage
behind the teeth of a fence
red mouth full of holes
bleeding wild roses, bees
fat on dusty pollen
the road comes right up
to our wrinkled faces
sniffs like a friendly dog
shines like a compact mirror
showing off our interior
springs in the old sofa
soft bed like a ripe plum
pink stuffing a fluffy ooze
We are never alone here
bougainvillea pricks us
with its needled thorns
motorcycles scream past
horns blaring a theme song
of last days, lost time
But we turn off the blare
the bloodied, the oozing
and watch the waves come in
closer and closer
to swallowing us whole.

September 16, 2022

editors note: How to be at rest as your apocalypse approaches. – mh clay

The Last Supper by Cord Moreski

Blunt guts discarded
along the kitchen counter

toilet lid busted in half
on the bathroom floor

fire damage in the pantry
next to the refrigerator
tagged with graffiti

and naked pinup posters
cover fist craters
in the hallway walls.

You have the last supper—
a chuck steak cooked to
the temperature of moo

and some boxed red wine
you drink from a styrofoam cup—
before you finally
have to turn over your key.

It’s safe to say
you’re not getting
the security deposit back.

September 15, 2022

editors note: It’s the landlord’s loss when you live large. – mh clay

Holiday with Nietzsche by Henry Bladon

A tent was appropriate. Rational, even. After all, I read the phrase ‘freedom is the greatest luxury.’

Indulge your inner wanderer, I thought. Take the dog and we can both meet him there.

After I cook what the great man wants for supper, I’ll ask him whatever happened to the Ubermensch.

So exciting.

I spent two hours putting up the tent while other campers had BBQ fun.

I turned to the dog to say that now I was finally going to understand how I can stop grasping for a sense of achievement.

Only, the bastard didn’t turn up. I rang him but he didn’t answer. Typical of Nietzsche.

It was like that moment when you finally realise that toast is merely burnt bread.

Just to spite him I joined the BBQ and got drunk instead.

September 14, 2022

editors note: That which does not kill us makes us BBQ. – mh clay

Apologies by Ethan Goffman

One day, Al decided to apologize. He apologized to his wife for the many times he’d sarcastically undercut her and his one brief affair. He apologized to his children for occasional temper tantrums and for not having enough money to provide them with the lessons and tutoring and exotic vacations other parents in his suburb managed. He apologized to his dog for the time he’d forgotten her outdoors in the cold and she’d almost died. He apologized to his coworkers for the times he’d depended on them to finish up work he should have gotten to.

Al apologized to the Earth for how much he polluted her with his large, used cars and his propensity for turning up the air conditioning on hot summer days. He apologized to Black people for his apathy in doing anything at all to advance the struggle for racial equality and for his cowardice in not standing up for a kid bullied in high school. Similarly, he apologized for not standing up for a probably gay kid and for even participating a bit in the bullying. Al apologized to hungry children overseas, even in the city near his suburb, even a few in the suburb itself, for not donating even a bit to help. He apologized to Democracy for doing so little to protect it beyond voting once every four years (and sometimes mid-terms).

Al failed in only one important apology–to himself.

September 13, 2022

editors note: Sorry starts with self. – mh clay

Let’s detestify them! by Ankur Jyoti Saikia

Much power
is vested

upon dicks
that believe

wombs are
a part of

that rib bone
an old male

broke off
from them

Why do these
dicks decree

what wombs
must decide

her body, his gun
her body, his choice

September 12, 2022

editors note: Can I get an Amen? – mh clay

Vow of silence by Hem Raj Bastola

The milk of life,
Trains of his veins,
Flowing energy.
Making him to move,
To live and
To collect,
The experience.

In the cauldron of life,
Stirring veins of
Sanguine sap.
Fire of his youth
Finally the milk scald.

And, slowly calm,
By the age resting,
In the canister cordon;
Curdled into yogurt.
To fulfill,
The vow of silence.
To return
To the source

September 11, 2022

editors note: Finding peace in a process. – mh clay

••• Short Stories •••

If you wanna dig into a couple drabbles featuring a quirky character named Quibble, then check out “Pleasing” & “Raincoat” by Ken Poyner!

Here’s what Short Story Editor Tyler Malone has to say about this pick’o the weekend:

In both these 100-word-story drabbles, class is nothing and everything when life is nothing and everything all at once.

“Short Walk When We Walk” by Tyler Malone

Drag your mouse over here and get some drabbling going!


Check out this weekday’s featured read Agouti Coat” by Contributing Writer & Poet KJ Hannah Greenberg.

Here’s what Short Story Editor Tyler Malone has to say about this pick’o the weekday:

We all gotta go, and most of us don’t see how it happens but sometimes you gotta see where life is taking you.

Here’s a tease to get you on your way:

“Hop 2 It” by Tyler Malone

Allen accidentally brushed his hand against his neck warmer. The oily, stinky hairs protecting that skin wicked away the rain pouring down. The animal that had once possessed that covering had tasted good, like wild fruits and nuts. It had been his fortune to find that large rat stuffing its snout with fallen bounty under a Jaboticaba (Allen had been searching for protein for days while trying to avoid becoming a jaguar or panther’s dinner.)

He had hoped to find a capybara, but his hunt had yielded its smaller cousin. No matter—every mouthful had been tasty…

Get the rest of this tasty read right here!


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’ Instinctual,

Johnny O
Chief Editor

MH Clay
Poetry Editor

Tyler Malone
Short Story Editor

Madelyn Olson
Visual Editor

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