The Best of Mad Swirl : 06.24.23

by June 25, 2023 0 comments

Do whatever you do intensely.

Robert Henri

••• The Mad Gallery •••

“backstreet evolution” ~ Edward Michael Supranowicz

To see all of Edward’s colorfully trippy illustrations, 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 wined our wander, days not squandered; we bird clocked be in time for tea; we sought through slacker a lunch time packer; we gathered ’round a burial ground; we gagged greed in the news feed; we forced Disney’s hand on a wounded land; we fancy fell to angels tell. The story steers from side to side to strip away what we would hide. ~ MH Clay

REWIND (the place I am) by Uchechukwu Onyedikam

Ìgbò-highlife music playing back on
the vinyl player, dims the day to night.
Burning the night whilst watching
the candle, wax out old memories
as I straddle mourning and gladdening.

Ever since I left my old man’s village
through Jonah’s eyes —
I have nothing charming sitting yonder
waiting for me to kneel to, and relay how
I couldn’t be at my mother’s white funeral
with eyes bleeding heavily on grief
and the left hand bearing a machete
to split death’s filthy hands…

Faraway from water & blood, but I have
my mother near at hand in the shoreline
of my palm, drawing gaiety of two roses,
awakened her fragile-taken breath.

Hidden in a faraway land where I
break my soul to reach heaven and
tell the angels how it is/feels to be
away from people that look like me
for the place: of the discomfort…
of god instead — his law on my head!
That I carry about like a madman
hawking another man’s prejudice.


I shoo myself away — faraway
where I crip-walk with my shadow
learning her drunken smile, watering
the certainty that I fear to behold;
for The Begotten is nowhere
to be found in this timeless space!

June 24, 2023

editors note: Misplaced and misbegotten. Away! (We welcome Uchechukwu to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay


No Disneyland in Nigeria.

Cannot be.
Disneyland is fun in the sun.
So much fun.

Missing children.
Missing lives.
Missing history.

I wish Nigeria were just a ride.

June 23, 2023

editors note: Where some would pay to leave that park (if they could). – mh clay

Free Speech by Archie Abaire

Partisans mass-bake
with a texture resembling truth
and serve it in bot-bite batches
to accrete
a crust of respectability;
never mind
that those delicious news nuggets
are not protein bars for the mind
but hash brownies for the spleen
packaged under
stolen names.
I bet you can’t eat just one.

June 22, 2023

editors note: Proves again, there’s no such thing as a free lunch (choke on that). – mh clay

the strange sound by Brendan McBreen

the strange sound
of cemetery crickets
an emptiness of sky
wind rustling distant trees
the open space
was not silent
and I felt offended
all the glossy plaques
flat against the ground
to make it easier
for the lawn mower
to just ride over everything
I wanted there to be monuments
stone angels
even Hell
would be nice
this ridged ordered geometric
blank canvas of tidy green
was more off-putting
than the deceased

June 21, 2023

editors note: Even the dead must get in line. – mh clay

Food for thought by Ivan Jenson

By now
I hope you’ve
gotten the gist
that life is just
a psychological
thriller novel
with a killer twist
as well as
a soap opera
sung by a castrati
with a black belt
in Karate
who hits high C
then low blows
with a sideswipe
bringing you
to your knees
so please
don’t blame
your poor old mama
because you never
had the part you
truly wanted
in this human
just accept your role
and roll with the kisses
and the punches
and just be glad
that once upon a time
your youthful spirit
was rarely hungry
because someone
loved you enough
to pack your
afternoon lunches

June 20, 2023

editors note: They bought your branded lunch box, too. – mh clay

2 Haiku: Tea & Time by Jharna Sanyal

for home bound birds
late evening tea


clock ticks
old photos
measuring time

June 19, 2023

editors note: Our world’s perceived through our constructs (one lump, or two?). (We welcome Jharna to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay

Sierra Madre by Guest Poet Silvia Scheibli

For Alan Britt

Around the darkening bay
mountains are dissolving in coffee ‘n cream mist

City lights scatter like jelly beans
erasing afternoon hours
following humpbacks breaching the waves

We have not had so many days yet
that we could squander this one —
so please continue pouring the Chardonnay
as we admire lake-side coots
display elegant, yellow toes on grassy edge

June 18, 2023

editors note: A perfect pour to pique perception. – mh clay

••• Short Stories •••

Check out our chrysalis-tic featured story, “The Birth” by Contributing Writer & Poet Kleio B!

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

It all starts somewhere, or we say it does as the beginning has already taken us far, far, far from who we thought we’d become.

Here’s a bit of this transformative tale:

“big eye bug” by Dan Rodriguez

As the pebble from the tree fell, the apple from the deepest dungeons of the Gaia sprouted a tiny leaf. When the sky was green & the seas were yellow. Violet was the sun, and red was the night, a worm of utmost beauty, conceived in the minds of the writer and her influenced romanticism, wiggled its way through the beautiful meanderings.

The confluence of feeling and the stress of life created the ashy surroundings of a shiny cave. The eyes of the pretty worm twinkled like stars as it seeped in knowledge from its environment. With every nook of understanding and corner of doubt, the worm changed shape…

Inch on over here to get the rest your read on!


If all the you’s in you need a read then check out Walter Ego by Contributing Writer James Lawless!

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

There’s dialog between us and the past, but what about us and our past?

Here’s a bit of this alter-ego tale to get you trippin’:

“A Place for Heads” by Tyler Malone

Milan, Italy

I’m walking up the steps of San Maurizio’s Church wearing the regulation Covid mask that moves in and out as I breathe or talk behind it. It filters the air rendering it odorless, which contradicts the clear day.

I will dance the reader through the following dialog.

Commence with anything, I tell myself.

Anything? I ask.

Anything, I answer. It could begin with you asking me questions.

Questions like, where is this happening?

Exactly, and I answer, it’s happening in front of a church.

Which church?

Now you’re catching on. And I answer it’s the oldest monastery in the city.

By the way, who am I?

Your name’s Walter Ego.

Do you mean like alter ego?

Precisely, I say while the light dims as we enter the church together…

Get all your you’s together and head right here to get the rest of this read on!


The whole Mad Swirl of everything to come keeps on keepin’ on… NOW! Every second, every minute, every hour, every day, every week, every month, every year, every decade, every EVERY there is! Wanna join in the mad conversations going on in our Mad Swirl’s World? Then come by whenever the mood strikes! We’ll be here…


Johnny O
Chief Editor

MH Clay
Poetry Editor

Tyler Malone
Short Story Editor

Madelyn Olson
Visual Editor

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