::: A Taste of Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum 10.23.09 :::
“I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” Jack Kerouac
Persistance (above) by mad painter Joseph A. Garrison, one of over 20 resident artists currently being displayed in Mad Swirl's Mad Gallery.
In case you missed it, here's a taste of the yummy poetry we featured this week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum...
Writers With Bookings
Ezra Pound
Looks hostile
In all of his
Mug shots.
Charles Bukowski
Looks drunk
In all of his.
Robert Frost
Looks sophisticated
In all of his
Pictures.
He doesn’t have
A mug shot.
I have
A mug shot.
I guess that’s why
I don’t read
Frost much.
- Justin Test
(added 10.23.09)
The Tragedy of the Ballpoint
Your finger fumbles to find my button,
as you press me against a void white wall.
Thrusting your callused hands around my neck,
you took advantage, I was your violent click.
Your pale knuckling hands held me all night:
Shaking, trembling, eventually crumbling tight.
Your sweat plunged down my body,
as ink stained you after every moon.
That first night we made love,
Or was it lust, envied by Aphrodite?
Your bruised, stained hands caressed me:
I would rather be used for a tracheotomy.
You were a wordsmith, and I was your well.
I never dried up, you said I failed,
but you failed as well. Treated me like
I was your obsession, your fetish, your release.
I was your whore, and you my rapist.
A lover without Hera’s blessing.
A user, a dreamer, you are Houdini.
A stupid magician, just a silly escapist.
September 11, 2008
- Craig Terry
(added 10.22.09)
Refusal to the Past and Future
I REFUSE TO GO AWAY. I REFUSE TO LET PASS TIME.
Because time will never last: I refuse to let it pass.
I refuse to go away. I refuse every single day.
Because time will never last: I refuse to let it pass.
I refuse to wait. Without time I'm never late
for my queen, and I'll never sleep. I'll always be
AWAKE. I refuse to go away. I refuse every single ray.
Because time will never last: I refuse to let it pass.
I'll never flower. I refuse every single hour.
Because death is very sour: I refuse every hour.
I have found the cure for time: never let bells chime.
The past must never be the future. It must always be now.
Now think about what's going on. It's time we won.
It's time we lose. And I REFUSE! I REFUSE!
Because time will never last: I refuse to let it pass.
I refuse to let it pass.
- James Jason Dye
(added 10.21.09)
The Exploding Penis
So I woke up this morning and got out of bed to use the toilet,
when suddenly
MY PENIS EXPLODED!
No, not like a spontaneous ejaculation,
(though that happens to me sometimes)
I mean like my entire penis blew up into tiny smithereens
Subatomic particles of my dick burst out into infinite directions
scattered on the floor, the smoldering ashes…
flashes of vanquished pubic hair singed…
behind what was once an erection…
Miraculously, however, my testicles were unscathed
(but it looked really strange only having a pair of balls with no penis attached)
I cried out in vain,
“What shall I do?”
“How will I urinate?”
“How will I have sexual intercourse?”
“How will I find Mrs. Right?”
I immediately phoned my doctor to inform him of my plight
He said that this thing happens quite often and is
vastly underreported by the media
It could easily be an unwanted side-effect
of all the prescription and non-prescription drugs
that I’ve been abusing
He said I should come to his office at once
so I can be fitted with a brand-new penis
I ran out my door into the humid Florida morning
(wearing only a hot pink bathrobe and hair curlers)
and jumped into my car, peeling out of the parking lot,
CRANKING up that new Lady GaGa song “Just Dance”
During the drive, I do hand dances along to the music
I “Vogue,” I “Pulp Fiction,”
I do that swim dive move that has been out of fashion since
before I was born; but I still do it anyway
The traffic on the Palmetto Expressway was a pain in the ass
I worried that I’d never get to the doctor’s office fast
Time is of the essence when these sorts of things occur
Fortunately I saw a cop decked out in fake fur
I pleaded to him:
“Officer! Help! My penis has exploded! I need to get to the doctor at once!”
He told me that the same thing happened to him four years ago in the Yucatan Peninsula
and provided me a police escort with blaring sirens through the highway
(he also did funky hand dances along on the way)
(and even did the YMCA)
When I arrived at the office,
my doctor showed me a bunch of new shiny penises to pick
He really had an amazing selection of pricks
I chose the latest model, in neon green, that came with a lifetime warranty
This one will never explode, the doctor guaranteed
My doctor also had an impressive assortment of vaginas,
which he attempted to cajole me on,
just in case I was interested in switching my sexual organ preference
I told him no; I’m satisfied with my current genitalia
And, as much as I love vaginas, they require too much maintenance
While he swore that he knew an innovative vagina mechanic, who does express
gynecological examinations in 15 minutes or less from his bedroom in Hialeah,
I told him no thanks and asked to be fitted with my new penis
After this, I left the office feeling refreshed
and happy
Nothing like a new penis on a sunny day
Nothing at all
- Newamba Flamingo
(2 poems added 10.20.09)
Oceana
flesh and fire conspire
to become one
truth obscured by the sun
a light
rips away the night
frightened
exposed
dawn's breaking finds me
cold
wet
shaking
- William Roberts
(added 10.19.09)
3 mirror poems
by kenshiro dan
(a tokyo psychiatrist, who "records" his cases in a mad, poetic form)
(i)
gone
lost forever
leaving me behind,
forever lost
(ii)
unchanging
he wrote her, saying:
"now that we're no longer together,
i find that i'm more with you
than i ever was..."
she replied:
"now that we're no longer together,
i find that i'm no less with you
than i ever was..."
(iii)
distorted faces
staring strangely
at the girl
strangely staring
- Norbert Luciano
(1 poem added 10.18.09)
Giving credit
My wife held my hand
Crushed it
As the banker went on
About our credit
Small time crooks getting straight
We just want a house
She said
Tears in her eyes
Spinning pizzas is not enough for a roof
Nor is waiting tables
But we have a car
I don’t like this smile
My parole agent told me about that
These looks from white collars
Like they are so pure and clean
He might as well be a pedophile
We should have robbed this bank
Shot him with our masks on
My Bonnie and I
Fiercely beautiful and romantic
Our lays were so good after a coup
Now it is different
With the belly
Without the heat
But we’re straight now
Citizens
Cans of food instead of guns
My tattoos are hidden under a nice shirt
Nobody notices me anymore
Don’t know if I like that better
This guy doesn’t know better
He should give us credit
For not shooting him in the face
But I don’t have guns anymore
I miss them
That
And the flat belly of my woman.
- Phillip David
(added 10.17.09)
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 every EVERY there is! Wanna join in the poetic conversations going on in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum? Then stop by whenever the mood strikes! We're swirling it here 24/7!
Certifiably Swirlified!
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
“Great things are not accomplished by those who yield to trends and fads and popular opinion.” Jack Kerouac
Ladies & Gentlemen, Loose-Women & Pickpockets, Hipsters & Squares, step right up! The mad ones at Mad Swirl are proud to present to you...Swirl-A-Bout! On 11.07.09 we will be featuring the maddest mad ones that we know! Poets? Lots of 'em! Musicians? 10-4 good buddy! Visual artists? Do we! Fire breathers? Yup. Burlesque dancers? You can bet your pretty lil' bottom dollar we do! Click here to buy your ticket to ride and to find out more about Swirl-A-Bout!
Persistance (above) by mad painter Joseph A. Garrison, one of over 20 resident artists currently being displayed in Mad Swirl's Mad Gallery.
In case you missed it, here's a taste of the yummy poetry we featured this week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum...
Writers With Bookings
Ezra Pound
Looks hostile
In all of his
Mug shots.
Charles Bukowski
Looks drunk
In all of his.
Robert Frost
Looks sophisticated
In all of his
Pictures.
He doesn’t have
A mug shot.
I have
A mug shot.
I guess that’s why
I don’t read
Frost much.
- Justin Test
(added 10.23.09)
The Tragedy of the Ballpoint
Your finger fumbles to find my button,
as you press me against a void white wall.
Thrusting your callused hands around my neck,
you took advantage, I was your violent click.
Your pale knuckling hands held me all night:
Shaking, trembling, eventually crumbling tight.
Your sweat plunged down my body,
as ink stained you after every moon.
That first night we made love,
Or was it lust, envied by Aphrodite?
Your bruised, stained hands caressed me:
I would rather be used for a tracheotomy.
You were a wordsmith, and I was your well.
I never dried up, you said I failed,
but you failed as well. Treated me like
I was your obsession, your fetish, your release.
I was your whore, and you my rapist.
A lover without Hera’s blessing.
A user, a dreamer, you are Houdini.
A stupid magician, just a silly escapist.
September 11, 2008
- Craig Terry
(added 10.22.09)
Refusal to the Past and Future
I REFUSE TO GO AWAY. I REFUSE TO LET PASS TIME.
Because time will never last: I refuse to let it pass.
I refuse to go away. I refuse every single day.
Because time will never last: I refuse to let it pass.
I refuse to wait. Without time I'm never late
for my queen, and I'll never sleep. I'll always be
AWAKE. I refuse to go away. I refuse every single ray.
Because time will never last: I refuse to let it pass.
I'll never flower. I refuse every single hour.
Because death is very sour: I refuse every hour.
I have found the cure for time: never let bells chime.
The past must never be the future. It must always be now.
Now think about what's going on. It's time we won.
It's time we lose. And I REFUSE! I REFUSE!
Because time will never last: I refuse to let it pass.
I refuse to let it pass.
- James Jason Dye
(added 10.21.09)
The Exploding Penis
So I woke up this morning and got out of bed to use the toilet,
when suddenly
MY PENIS EXPLODED!
No, not like a spontaneous ejaculation,
(though that happens to me sometimes)
I mean like my entire penis blew up into tiny smithereens
Subatomic particles of my dick burst out into infinite directions
scattered on the floor, the smoldering ashes…
flashes of vanquished pubic hair singed…
behind what was once an erection…
Miraculously, however, my testicles were unscathed
(but it looked really strange only having a pair of balls with no penis attached)
I cried out in vain,
“What shall I do?”
“How will I urinate?”
“How will I have sexual intercourse?”
“How will I find Mrs. Right?”
I immediately phoned my doctor to inform him of my plight
He said that this thing happens quite often and is
vastly underreported by the media
It could easily be an unwanted side-effect
of all the prescription and non-prescription drugs
that I’ve been abusing
He said I should come to his office at once
so I can be fitted with a brand-new penis
I ran out my door into the humid Florida morning
(wearing only a hot pink bathrobe and hair curlers)
and jumped into my car, peeling out of the parking lot,
CRANKING up that new Lady GaGa song “Just Dance”
During the drive, I do hand dances along to the music
I “Vogue,” I “Pulp Fiction,”
I do that swim dive move that has been out of fashion since
before I was born; but I still do it anyway
The traffic on the Palmetto Expressway was a pain in the ass
I worried that I’d never get to the doctor’s office fast
Time is of the essence when these sorts of things occur
Fortunately I saw a cop decked out in fake fur
I pleaded to him:
“Officer! Help! My penis has exploded! I need to get to the doctor at once!”
He told me that the same thing happened to him four years ago in the Yucatan Peninsula
and provided me a police escort with blaring sirens through the highway
(he also did funky hand dances along on the way)
(and even did the YMCA)
When I arrived at the office,
my doctor showed me a bunch of new shiny penises to pick
He really had an amazing selection of pricks
I chose the latest model, in neon green, that came with a lifetime warranty
This one will never explode, the doctor guaranteed
My doctor also had an impressive assortment of vaginas,
which he attempted to cajole me on,
just in case I was interested in switching my sexual organ preference
I told him no; I’m satisfied with my current genitalia
And, as much as I love vaginas, they require too much maintenance
While he swore that he knew an innovative vagina mechanic, who does express
gynecological examinations in 15 minutes or less from his bedroom in Hialeah,
I told him no thanks and asked to be fitted with my new penis
After this, I left the office feeling refreshed
and happy
Nothing like a new penis on a sunny day
Nothing at all
- Newamba Flamingo
(2 poems added 10.20.09)
Oceana
flesh and fire conspire
to become one
truth obscured by the sun
a light
rips away the night
frightened
exposed
dawn's breaking finds me
cold
wet
shaking
- William Roberts
(added 10.19.09)
3 mirror poems
by kenshiro dan
(a tokyo psychiatrist, who "records" his cases in a mad, poetic form)
(i)
gone
lost forever
leaving me behind,
forever lost
(ii)
unchanging
he wrote her, saying:
"now that we're no longer together,
i find that i'm more with you
than i ever was..."
she replied:
"now that we're no longer together,
i find that i'm no less with you
than i ever was..."
(iii)
distorted faces
staring strangely
at the girl
strangely staring
- Norbert Luciano
(1 poem added 10.18.09)
Giving credit
My wife held my hand
Crushed it
As the banker went on
About our credit
Small time crooks getting straight
We just want a house
She said
Tears in her eyes
Spinning pizzas is not enough for a roof
Nor is waiting tables
But we have a car
I don’t like this smile
My parole agent told me about that
These looks from white collars
Like they are so pure and clean
He might as well be a pedophile
We should have robbed this bank
Shot him with our masks on
My Bonnie and I
Fiercely beautiful and romantic
Our lays were so good after a coup
Now it is different
With the belly
Without the heat
But we’re straight now
Citizens
Cans of food instead of guns
My tattoos are hidden under a nice shirt
Nobody notices me anymore
Don’t know if I like that better
This guy doesn’t know better
He should give us credit
For not shooting him in the face
But I don’t have guns anymore
I miss them
That
And the flat belly of my woman.
- Phillip David
(added 10.17.09)
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 every EVERY there is! Wanna join in the poetic conversations going on in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum? Then stop by whenever the mood strikes! We're swirling it here 24/7!
Certifiably Swirlified!
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
“Great things are not accomplished by those who yield to trends and fads and popular opinion.” Jack Kerouac
Ladies & Gentlemen, Loose-Women & Pickpockets, Hipsters & Squares, step right up! The mad ones at Mad Swirl are proud to present to you...Swirl-A-Bout! On 11.07.09 we will be featuring the maddest mad ones that we know! Poets? Lots of 'em! Musicians? 10-4 good buddy! Visual artists? Do we! Fire breathers? Yup. Burlesque dancers? You can bet your pretty lil' bottom dollar we do! Click here to buy your ticket to ride and to find out more about Swirl-A-Bout!
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