::: A Taste of Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum 11.13.09 :::
“We live at the edge of the miraculous.” Henry Miller
Into his presence would I enter now (above) by painter David Arthur-Simons, one of over 20 resident artists currently being displayed in Mad Swirl's color-filled 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...
ONE ON ONE
The experts say: hug yourself,
love yourself, befriend and hell,
have a little chat with yourself
if you want to.
Go ahead, tug mug and bug
yourself, grab your hilt until
your kilt tilts, if you so choose,
it’s all good news at least for
all of you who love yourselves.
I say, where the hell do these
people come from? Have they
hibby-hoo-hummed themselves
into numb delirium with this
wacky-jack pablum, or do they
just lack oxygen?
So, how does this work, if you
think you’re just a jerk, and
don’t much like, let alone,
love yourself?
If you love yourself, you can
be your own whore, bang yourself,
and scream for more, and never
be afraid of prosecution, but,
if you don’t and still proceed,
you will have nosebleed-raped
a stranger, who will smile at you
but still believe--
that loving self is not all
that it’s hyped up to be.
- Joseph Roque
(3 poems added 11.13.09)
•••••••••••
Opium
Petals falling on the glassy surface,
picked one by one,
illusions sinking fast,
the weight of fact upon them
(the truth be, the truth be not...)
Words are only lies
if the real is hidden
behind a dance of veils.
(spin, doctor, spin)
Take that head off the platter,
it makes for a bitter dish
and eyes are better used to see.
Tongues are rather used for speaking
out when all are mouthing platitudes
meant to silence all adversaries,
but used as a rallying cry
for those well tired of bullshit.
Opiates are mirrors and mist
religion the final destination
of those too lazy to find the answers,
dogma being the pet of the masses
who gladly eat what's fed them.
If you need a hero, be one yourself,
walk hand in hand with your own two hands,
and pledge your love to you.
It will be a match made on Earth
that lasts through the eternities.
(you may now kiss the mirror)
- Rose Morales
(3 poems added 11.12.09)
•••••••••••
Mixed Messages
The latest apartment
I've moved into
is loaded with personality.
The whore who lived here last
left three keys to nearby motels
in the linen closet
and carved the word DIE
in the front door.
It was okay as long as
she used the motels
but a neighbour ratted her out
when she worked from home.
There are some interesting stains
on the bedroom wall
under fluorescence
but the word DIE
carved in the front door
takes the cake.
I was thinking about getting
a WELCOME mat
to send
mixed messages
and
watch the mailman
flounder with
indecision.
- Ryan Quinn Flanagan
(added 11.11.09)
•••••••••••
Time Well Spent
The week well-spent at the Weeping Wall
earning bloody hands and cheeks
while the Machiavelli handed out fresh
ointments and warm novelettes
about Anne Frank’s in-between days.
They believe in you.
You brought a mandolin
while I swore at the mini-Moog
built into bistro wall—classically illustrated—
in the depths of a Turkish neighborhood.
We drank narcotic coffees with whirling spoons.
They believe in you.
There were plodding children and
dispassionate academics who existed
in long conspiratorial talks about homesickness,
deconstruction and geological imperatives,
mixing freedom with rough trade.
They believe in you.
My teeth fell out against the curb
that last day, when your hair turned dark,
when the ghosts of hopeless history
ground your heart to Imagist anecdotal
unvarnished dogwood pulp.
They believe in you.
- Brendan McEntee
(added 11.10.09)
•••••••••••
The Call of the Wild
I hear the call of the wild
In the morning,
right after I get
the kids off to
school and feed the dogs,
but before I surf the net.
I hear the call of the wild
after I load the dishwasher
but before I call my mom
to tell her about the dream
I had, the one about Jude Law
I hear the call of the wild
right after the kids
get home from school,
and sometimes after Oprah
I hear the call of the wild
between the time that
Bill O’Reilly starts
and the kids are getting
ready for bed
I hear the call of the wild
sometime After the
kids fall asleep
but before David Letterman
signs off
I heed the call of the wild,
I practice nashing my teeth
I growl at My Shih-tzu
but he doesn’t growl back
- Melanie Browne
(2 poems added 11.09.09)
•••••••••••
GENESIS/NEOGENESIS
in the beginning there was no beginning heaven created the earth and
the earth made heaven and darkness drew tight in the void and with a
turn all turned to light and there was light and in its release it divided
the night and spun day out of day and thus was the first moment and
the waters rolled back the earth the earth separated the waters and
the waters separated the sky and the seas rushed up on the land and
the land held back the seas and where the land mixed with the sea
mixed with sky mixed with light something was born and of the thing
born there turned a strand strand around strand all movement reflects
in the double helix and all things orbit each other and themselves the
double helix takes the shape of all movement within wheels all moving
together along the line of time layers built up on layers shine reaching
up for the light one step at a time for billions of years darkness never
free of the light light not unlined by night to this all waters flow from
one shall be many and from many shall be more from more shall be a
multitude but the infinite is out of reach now branching up and rooting
down all from the body of singularity first the heart and then the hands
all things turn around the eye lifting green from the sea spreading out
over and under the sun branching out from death to an ever greater
complexity the hand follows the seed each seed contains the whole
of the universe each drop of water reflects the same the infinite is
outside in but persists in inside out the single moment lasts forever
time is all in one and what life when if life how there is no memory
beyond the now and the space between the planets is not as far as
the space between each atom even in the densest core a moment is
longer than forever forever is compressed into a moment the spread
of time is a comfortable illusion where a day is as long as a night
when counted in millennia each piece is its own puzzle the whole
of is is remembered in time the first hand was a snake and we have
never forgotten or forgiven the first eye was a light this was success
light is not light unless seen the smallest triumph leads to victory of
the soul the first step is to know itself the first day is the longest day
from dark nothing to light and everything to dark and light something
takes less than forever but is so long it might as well be forever the
second day of life feel life on life doubling the cycle and revealing the
helix yet again run down the lines all things must come in twine life
that feeds on life is gray life that feeds on life that feeds on life is
brown life that feeds on life that feeds on life that feeds on life is
red each step is a step up each branch is a branch out each root
is a root in each morning is a day further on sex before flowers but
flowers perfected sex from one flower come many flowers from many
flowers come many species from many species a world of difference
movement begets movement all things made flesh light becomes the
eye reveals light each step an undertaking awakening a little bit more
each eon understanding a little more each millenium with no end in
sight but there is an end to every thing only no end to everything a
cycle is too simple only the double helix can explain the allegory as
all things pass so all things must go a day is a year an era an eon a
day is as long as night shall rise and light shall fall the life raised up
has fallen before and will again what shall last is the double helix
there is darkness on the face of the waters and then there is let there
be light for a baby there are seven days to reach the top rest the speed
of light is an illusion light is everywhere the passage of time is but an
illusion there is only the moment existence is an illusion there is only
is the tides stir the waters ceaselessly there is no rest no peace a constant
change creates levels of change always reaching for the sun the first day
of life was sun green turning light into food food into air air into green
in the morning a waking light that finally understands it is light each step
in the awakening is a day and this is the rest and the seventh these are
the days of our first a baby awakes to one in seven days and so does the
earth a day is as long as the night surrenders a night can be millions of
years long never is never forever remember no memory the earth holds
all secrets but all is revealed in a grain of sand the whole history of the
earth is implicit in a single flower the interweaving interwoven life
moving around the sun the sun the earth the moon in helixes within
helixes and life is the beneficiary of an infinite number of perfectly
balanced engines a clockwork universe that winds itself self correcting
the body of the universe is the body existence exists in both the whole
and the part to know itself there is a most precarious balance between
the earth and moon which creates a balance of wind and water unique
to see so far is there such a thing as another tightrope walker can any
other place be this place how rare is the air this is unique a billion years
in one day and each day grows shorter than an minute to a day where
everything happens at once and time is a lie to stretch the truth an era
has a definitive beginning and end and the only thing that compares is
the day tonight so each stage is a new day whether it takes 24 hours or
24 million years the dinosaurs are just another step and mankind is not
the last and cannot last why is there this there is a beauty in creation
beyond our needs beyond what we want and beyond what we can know
but still feel creation comes in six of seven days and on the last we rest
there is no end to days but there is a limit to remember the universe is
infinite but we are not infinite space is infinite but matter is not infinite
there are more choices that can be made but not infinite chosen each
separate branch leads to the root and the roots branch out and fist the
earth the earth a fist the moon a fist a fight never struck or won each
life leads back along its branch from self to species to type the multitude
is one but one is one plus one it is around and around in the moving
spiral dance all things move in double helix time all born returns to
death all forward turns around all up goes back down moving forward
looking back dark beginnings light a lack in order to know itself we are
here to respond what we call beauty is the night shining in reflected light
step away from the truth and step away from the senses step away from
conception only a guess and a guess of a guess the separation of species
was a dangerous act and dangerously has it been lived all the processes
front to back all the taken has been gived the end result being this is too
good the formulae have all been set but to know the knowable one must
recognize the unknowable for what it is the unknown is mostly knowable
perhaps all maybe into and into the spinning vacuum the matter cannot
break fee forever something has to go somewhere time does everything
but stand still where there is no right moment only a moment to right and
of course no end
- Satnrose
(added 11.08.09)
•••••••••••
alone time
my alone time
next to the candle
in darkness
is worth a universe
of televisions,
cocktail parties,
victories, triumphs,
recognition, acclaim,
acknowledgment,
or all the things you
sit in,
wear,
stare at,
eat,
or bow down to.
all of this disappears
when I am alone
next to the candle
in darkness.
(6.24.09)
- Chris Hamilton
(2 poems added 11.07.09)
•••••••••••
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!
Your Fellow Mad Ones,
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
“Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.” Leonard Cohen
Into his presence would I enter now (above) by painter David Arthur-Simons, one of over 20 resident artists currently being displayed in Mad Swirl's color-filled 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...
ONE ON ONE
The experts say: hug yourself,
love yourself, befriend and hell,
have a little chat with yourself
if you want to.
Go ahead, tug mug and bug
yourself, grab your hilt until
your kilt tilts, if you so choose,
it’s all good news at least for
all of you who love yourselves.
I say, where the hell do these
people come from? Have they
hibby-hoo-hummed themselves
into numb delirium with this
wacky-jack pablum, or do they
just lack oxygen?
So, how does this work, if you
think you’re just a jerk, and
don’t much like, let alone,
love yourself?
If you love yourself, you can
be your own whore, bang yourself,
and scream for more, and never
be afraid of prosecution, but,
if you don’t and still proceed,
you will have nosebleed-raped
a stranger, who will smile at you
but still believe--
that loving self is not all
that it’s hyped up to be.
- Joseph Roque
(3 poems added 11.13.09)
•••••••••••
Opium
Petals falling on the glassy surface,
picked one by one,
illusions sinking fast,
the weight of fact upon them
(the truth be, the truth be not...)
Words are only lies
if the real is hidden
behind a dance of veils.
(spin, doctor, spin)
Take that head off the platter,
it makes for a bitter dish
and eyes are better used to see.
Tongues are rather used for speaking
out when all are mouthing platitudes
meant to silence all adversaries,
but used as a rallying cry
for those well tired of bullshit.
Opiates are mirrors and mist
religion the final destination
of those too lazy to find the answers,
dogma being the pet of the masses
who gladly eat what's fed them.
If you need a hero, be one yourself,
walk hand in hand with your own two hands,
and pledge your love to you.
It will be a match made on Earth
that lasts through the eternities.
(you may now kiss the mirror)
- Rose Morales
(3 poems added 11.12.09)
•••••••••••
Mixed Messages
The latest apartment
I've moved into
is loaded with personality.
The whore who lived here last
left three keys to nearby motels
in the linen closet
and carved the word DIE
in the front door.
It was okay as long as
she used the motels
but a neighbour ratted her out
when she worked from home.
There are some interesting stains
on the bedroom wall
under fluorescence
but the word DIE
carved in the front door
takes the cake.
I was thinking about getting
a WELCOME mat
to send
mixed messages
and
watch the mailman
flounder with
indecision.
- Ryan Quinn Flanagan
(added 11.11.09)
•••••••••••
Time Well Spent
The week well-spent at the Weeping Wall
earning bloody hands and cheeks
while the Machiavelli handed out fresh
ointments and warm novelettes
about Anne Frank’s in-between days.
They believe in you.
You brought a mandolin
while I swore at the mini-Moog
built into bistro wall—classically illustrated—
in the depths of a Turkish neighborhood.
We drank narcotic coffees with whirling spoons.
They believe in you.
There were plodding children and
dispassionate academics who existed
in long conspiratorial talks about homesickness,
deconstruction and geological imperatives,
mixing freedom with rough trade.
They believe in you.
My teeth fell out against the curb
that last day, when your hair turned dark,
when the ghosts of hopeless history
ground your heart to Imagist anecdotal
unvarnished dogwood pulp.
They believe in you.
- Brendan McEntee
(added 11.10.09)
•••••••••••
The Call of the Wild
I hear the call of the wild
In the morning,
right after I get
the kids off to
school and feed the dogs,
but before I surf the net.
I hear the call of the wild
after I load the dishwasher
but before I call my mom
to tell her about the dream
I had, the one about Jude Law
I hear the call of the wild
right after the kids
get home from school,
and sometimes after Oprah
I hear the call of the wild
between the time that
Bill O’Reilly starts
and the kids are getting
ready for bed
I hear the call of the wild
sometime After the
kids fall asleep
but before David Letterman
signs off
I heed the call of the wild,
I practice nashing my teeth
I growl at My Shih-tzu
but he doesn’t growl back
- Melanie Browne
(2 poems added 11.09.09)
•••••••••••
GENESIS/NEOGENESIS
in the beginning there was no beginning heaven created the earth and
the earth made heaven and darkness drew tight in the void and with a
turn all turned to light and there was light and in its release it divided
the night and spun day out of day and thus was the first moment and
the waters rolled back the earth the earth separated the waters and
the waters separated the sky and the seas rushed up on the land and
the land held back the seas and where the land mixed with the sea
mixed with sky mixed with light something was born and of the thing
born there turned a strand strand around strand all movement reflects
in the double helix and all things orbit each other and themselves the
double helix takes the shape of all movement within wheels all moving
together along the line of time layers built up on layers shine reaching
up for the light one step at a time for billions of years darkness never
free of the light light not unlined by night to this all waters flow from
one shall be many and from many shall be more from more shall be a
multitude but the infinite is out of reach now branching up and rooting
down all from the body of singularity first the heart and then the hands
all things turn around the eye lifting green from the sea spreading out
over and under the sun branching out from death to an ever greater
complexity the hand follows the seed each seed contains the whole
of the universe each drop of water reflects the same the infinite is
outside in but persists in inside out the single moment lasts forever
time is all in one and what life when if life how there is no memory
beyond the now and the space between the planets is not as far as
the space between each atom even in the densest core a moment is
longer than forever forever is compressed into a moment the spread
of time is a comfortable illusion where a day is as long as a night
when counted in millennia each piece is its own puzzle the whole
of is is remembered in time the first hand was a snake and we have
never forgotten or forgiven the first eye was a light this was success
light is not light unless seen the smallest triumph leads to victory of
the soul the first step is to know itself the first day is the longest day
from dark nothing to light and everything to dark and light something
takes less than forever but is so long it might as well be forever the
second day of life feel life on life doubling the cycle and revealing the
helix yet again run down the lines all things must come in twine life
that feeds on life is gray life that feeds on life that feeds on life is
brown life that feeds on life that feeds on life that feeds on life is
red each step is a step up each branch is a branch out each root
is a root in each morning is a day further on sex before flowers but
flowers perfected sex from one flower come many flowers from many
flowers come many species from many species a world of difference
movement begets movement all things made flesh light becomes the
eye reveals light each step an undertaking awakening a little bit more
each eon understanding a little more each millenium with no end in
sight but there is an end to every thing only no end to everything a
cycle is too simple only the double helix can explain the allegory as
all things pass so all things must go a day is a year an era an eon a
day is as long as night shall rise and light shall fall the life raised up
has fallen before and will again what shall last is the double helix
there is darkness on the face of the waters and then there is let there
be light for a baby there are seven days to reach the top rest the speed
of light is an illusion light is everywhere the passage of time is but an
illusion there is only the moment existence is an illusion there is only
is the tides stir the waters ceaselessly there is no rest no peace a constant
change creates levels of change always reaching for the sun the first day
of life was sun green turning light into food food into air air into green
in the morning a waking light that finally understands it is light each step
in the awakening is a day and this is the rest and the seventh these are
the days of our first a baby awakes to one in seven days and so does the
earth a day is as long as the night surrenders a night can be millions of
years long never is never forever remember no memory the earth holds
all secrets but all is revealed in a grain of sand the whole history of the
earth is implicit in a single flower the interweaving interwoven life
moving around the sun the sun the earth the moon in helixes within
helixes and life is the beneficiary of an infinite number of perfectly
balanced engines a clockwork universe that winds itself self correcting
the body of the universe is the body existence exists in both the whole
and the part to know itself there is a most precarious balance between
the earth and moon which creates a balance of wind and water unique
to see so far is there such a thing as another tightrope walker can any
other place be this place how rare is the air this is unique a billion years
in one day and each day grows shorter than an minute to a day where
everything happens at once and time is a lie to stretch the truth an era
has a definitive beginning and end and the only thing that compares is
the day tonight so each stage is a new day whether it takes 24 hours or
24 million years the dinosaurs are just another step and mankind is not
the last and cannot last why is there this there is a beauty in creation
beyond our needs beyond what we want and beyond what we can know
but still feel creation comes in six of seven days and on the last we rest
there is no end to days but there is a limit to remember the universe is
infinite but we are not infinite space is infinite but matter is not infinite
there are more choices that can be made but not infinite chosen each
separate branch leads to the root and the roots branch out and fist the
earth the earth a fist the moon a fist a fight never struck or won each
life leads back along its branch from self to species to type the multitude
is one but one is one plus one it is around and around in the moving
spiral dance all things move in double helix time all born returns to
death all forward turns around all up goes back down moving forward
looking back dark beginnings light a lack in order to know itself we are
here to respond what we call beauty is the night shining in reflected light
step away from the truth and step away from the senses step away from
conception only a guess and a guess of a guess the separation of species
was a dangerous act and dangerously has it been lived all the processes
front to back all the taken has been gived the end result being this is too
good the formulae have all been set but to know the knowable one must
recognize the unknowable for what it is the unknown is mostly knowable
perhaps all maybe into and into the spinning vacuum the matter cannot
break fee forever something has to go somewhere time does everything
but stand still where there is no right moment only a moment to right and
of course no end
- Satnrose
(added 11.08.09)
•••••••••••
alone time
my alone time
next to the candle
in darkness
is worth a universe
of televisions,
cocktail parties,
victories, triumphs,
recognition, acclaim,
acknowledgment,
or all the things you
sit in,
wear,
stare at,
eat,
or bow down to.
all of this disappears
when I am alone
next to the candle
in darkness.
(6.24.09)
- Chris Hamilton
(2 poems added 11.07.09)
•••••••••••
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!
Your Fellow Mad Ones,
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
“Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.” Leonard Cohen
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