::: A Taste of Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum 12.26.09 :::
"Here's to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes... the ones who see things differently - they're not fond of rules... You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can't do is ignore them because they change things... they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do." Steve Jobs
We All Shine On (2) (above) by painter Johnny Olson, one of over 20 resident artists currently being displayed in Mad Swirl's eclectic Mad Gallery.
In case you missed it, here's just a taste of the poetry we featured this week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum...
Remission
It’s the rhythm of the words and
the reason of the rhyme
lit up, split up, getting ahead of time
luck, an artificial construct
like freedom and religion and astrology
biology, overgrown libidos in worn out
tuxedos and premature fecundity
will we ever find out what’s under me?
will we find me? what drives me
and ties me and binds me to
spiritual symbolism and superstition
my life’s in repetition
thank GOD, indecent and obsolete
my life’s in repetition
thank GOD, indolent and incomplete
my life’s in repetition
thank GOD
I’m in remission
- William Roberts
(1 poem added 12.26.09)
•••••••••••
T'was the Night Before Tomorrow
(check out the Flash version here)
T'was the night before tomorrow
which makes it tonight.
I just puffed my medicine
and was feeling just right.
When what did I hear
but knocking at my door.
I yelled "Who is it?!"
just to be sure.
"It's Santa" he said.
"I've got something for you!"
I jumped to my feet
so high that I flew!
I swung open the door
as quick as a flash.
My dog jumped up too
causing a great crash!
There stood Santa,
all dressed in red.
He wiggled his nose
and here's what he said...
"I hear you're a magic man
with tricks up your sleeve.
They say you're the best
so I hafta believe!"
"This new deck of cards
I'm giving to you
to go create magic
and do what you do!"
We sat down and talked
and took a few tokes.
The room was all green
hazy with smoke.
He said many thanks
and I gave him a show,
a bag of magic seeds
to plant and to grow.
He was happy and pleased
with a hazy-eyed look
Just one little hit
was all that it took!
We ate us some cookies
as we said our good nights.
And off flew santa
as high as a kite.
I hope he finds you feelin' all right.
Ho! Ho! Ho!
Marijuana Christmas
and a Hazy New Year!
- Merlin the Magical One 'n' Johnny O
(12.24.09)
•••••••••••
Devil In Red Lipstick
Sinking in the cesspool called denial, such an
arrogant assumption to make that you can morph this
hostage situation into a castle in the air, it’s simply
animalistic to presume that you changed her
natural instincts because you’re the man, oh no, she won’t
interfere with anyone’s right to happiness as she’s
calculating 101 ways to make your heart break,
and tear through your world like a wolf’s teeth
lusting for tender flesh to devour and shred into fodder,
but oh no, she doesn’t abuse - because she’s above God.
- Stephanie Mojica
(added 12.23.09)
•••••••••••
Teller of Tales
I am anonymous
I am not to be named
I am but a Teller of Tales
A Keeper of the Mysteries and the Lore
The Wisdom and the Teachings of the Old Ones
Minatou of the Ways of the People
Come closer around the fire
And I will speak my story
I am anonymous
I am not to be named
A Singer, a Dreamer, a Seer, a Sham
Lover, Father, Brother, Child
My story began when the Fire was made
I crossed the Great Flood with our Nation
Carrying the council of the Wolf
Carrying the secrets of the Owl
I am anonymous
I am not to be named
I am the Traveller and the Path
I am the Puma and her Prey
I am the Maggot that waits for the Vulture
I am the breathing of the Stars
I am Dung, I am Ash, I am Dust, I am Lime
I am the headless Bird of Time
Say I am Movement, Ecstacy
Dear Listener, Stranger, my voice is yours
Listen to your soul for we are one
We are anonymous
We are not to be named
Come closer around the fire
Let us speak the Dreams of our People
Tell the Tales of Love and Longing
And sing the Songs of the Yet Unborn
- Manitonquat
(added 12.22.09)
•••••••••••
HELLBORN
Hellborn, and like a Sioux,
every sunrise is a vice
to contend with,
a white man’s worst
enemies—alcohol,
tobacco, tents where no thieves
can break in, coyote runs
wild again, a child
grown so old, so
loveless, so thin,
on this postmodern frontier,
there is only one desk,
one chair. I escape and
trace a Marsh Hawk
above the water gap
where she turns a circle
and laughs
because a motel room
is a poor excuse for nature,
Budweiser, a poorer excuse
for whiskey, the tongue
does not burn, the heart
doesn’t jump,
it’s one thing to be lost
in the wild, but to be lost
at Exit 45 is neither heroic
nor romantic. Either way,
I am alone with my own blood,
carry my own history like a skull,
every past is symmetrical, intact,
ready for exposition,
even explication, if only
I had a brown-skinned woman
rather than a white-washed
imagination. Instead,
I fantasize where
a thousand others have before,
a cumcloud hung in the air
over the interstate.
When it all comes down
to bones, to dust,
I hate to admit
that this is not Pocahontas,
and this is not Potomac,
this is the middle of nowhere
and it is now—
- Phil Lane
(added 12.21.09)
•••••••••••
I Am Younger Than Most Trees
He is asking for an opinion
at the small banana yellow circle table –
The shoes
of his understudies dangling in all directions,
adventurously from cherry red chairs.
Pearly whites splashing,
premolars chomping bubblegum in
the only moment.
The question arises,
in such homelike voice.
There is no wrong answer in that voice.
I would like that simple eloquence.
A bubble bursts, a pause
and another sprouts. It's being
thought over.
In this corner of the room, walls
lead into the forest,
mobiles are chandeliers on ceiling skies,
And Maurice and Russell are here
and howl and thunder from the aisles,
there if you need them.
So here I am studying.
That homelike voice will be a teacher someday.
I will try to not to be a professor,
admiring.
I am learning steadily.
I am younger than most trees.
- Erik Ta
(added 12.20.09)
•••••••••••
TWO MOONS HAIKU
two moons one water
slap the sea the ripples die
not a single sound
- Satnrose
(added 12.19.09)
•••••••••••
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'll be swirling it here 24/7!
Yuling Madly,
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
“Poetry is the statement of a relation between a man and the world.” Wallace Stevens
We All Shine On (2) (above) by painter Johnny Olson, one of over 20 resident artists currently being displayed in Mad Swirl's eclectic Mad Gallery.
In case you missed it, here's just a taste of the poetry we featured this week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum...
Remission
It’s the rhythm of the words and
the reason of the rhyme
lit up, split up, getting ahead of time
luck, an artificial construct
like freedom and religion and astrology
biology, overgrown libidos in worn out
tuxedos and premature fecundity
will we ever find out what’s under me?
will we find me? what drives me
and ties me and binds me to
spiritual symbolism and superstition
my life’s in repetition
thank GOD, indecent and obsolete
my life’s in repetition
thank GOD, indolent and incomplete
my life’s in repetition
thank GOD
I’m in remission
- William Roberts
(1 poem added 12.26.09)
•••••••••••
T'was the Night Before Tomorrow
(check out the Flash version here)
T'was the night before tomorrow
which makes it tonight.
I just puffed my medicine
and was feeling just right.
When what did I hear
but knocking at my door.
I yelled "Who is it?!"
just to be sure.
"It's Santa" he said.
"I've got something for you!"
I jumped to my feet
so high that I flew!
I swung open the door
as quick as a flash.
My dog jumped up too
causing a great crash!
There stood Santa,
all dressed in red.
He wiggled his nose
and here's what he said...
"I hear you're a magic man
with tricks up your sleeve.
They say you're the best
so I hafta believe!"
"This new deck of cards
I'm giving to you
to go create magic
and do what you do!"
We sat down and talked
and took a few tokes.
The room was all green
hazy with smoke.
He said many thanks
and I gave him a show,
a bag of magic seeds
to plant and to grow.
He was happy and pleased
with a hazy-eyed look
Just one little hit
was all that it took!
We ate us some cookies
as we said our good nights.
And off flew santa
as high as a kite.
I hope he finds you feelin' all right.
Ho! Ho! Ho!
Marijuana Christmas
and a Hazy New Year!
- Merlin the Magical One 'n' Johnny O
(12.24.09)
•••••••••••
Devil In Red Lipstick
Sinking in the cesspool called denial, such an
arrogant assumption to make that you can morph this
hostage situation into a castle in the air, it’s simply
animalistic to presume that you changed her
natural instincts because you’re the man, oh no, she won’t
interfere with anyone’s right to happiness as she’s
calculating 101 ways to make your heart break,
and tear through your world like a wolf’s teeth
lusting for tender flesh to devour and shred into fodder,
but oh no, she doesn’t abuse - because she’s above God.
- Stephanie Mojica
(added 12.23.09)
•••••••••••
Teller of Tales
I am anonymous
I am not to be named
I am but a Teller of Tales
A Keeper of the Mysteries and the Lore
The Wisdom and the Teachings of the Old Ones
Minatou of the Ways of the People
Come closer around the fire
And I will speak my story
I am anonymous
I am not to be named
A Singer, a Dreamer, a Seer, a Sham
Lover, Father, Brother, Child
My story began when the Fire was made
I crossed the Great Flood with our Nation
Carrying the council of the Wolf
Carrying the secrets of the Owl
I am anonymous
I am not to be named
I am the Traveller and the Path
I am the Puma and her Prey
I am the Maggot that waits for the Vulture
I am the breathing of the Stars
I am Dung, I am Ash, I am Dust, I am Lime
I am the headless Bird of Time
Say I am Movement, Ecstacy
Dear Listener, Stranger, my voice is yours
Listen to your soul for we are one
We are anonymous
We are not to be named
Come closer around the fire
Let us speak the Dreams of our People
Tell the Tales of Love and Longing
And sing the Songs of the Yet Unborn
- Manitonquat
(added 12.22.09)
•••••••••••
HELLBORN
Hellborn, and like a Sioux,
every sunrise is a vice
to contend with,
a white man’s worst
enemies—alcohol,
tobacco, tents where no thieves
can break in, coyote runs
wild again, a child
grown so old, so
loveless, so thin,
on this postmodern frontier,
there is only one desk,
one chair. I escape and
trace a Marsh Hawk
above the water gap
where she turns a circle
and laughs
because a motel room
is a poor excuse for nature,
Budweiser, a poorer excuse
for whiskey, the tongue
does not burn, the heart
doesn’t jump,
it’s one thing to be lost
in the wild, but to be lost
at Exit 45 is neither heroic
nor romantic. Either way,
I am alone with my own blood,
carry my own history like a skull,
every past is symmetrical, intact,
ready for exposition,
even explication, if only
I had a brown-skinned woman
rather than a white-washed
imagination. Instead,
I fantasize where
a thousand others have before,
a cumcloud hung in the air
over the interstate.
When it all comes down
to bones, to dust,
I hate to admit
that this is not Pocahontas,
and this is not Potomac,
this is the middle of nowhere
and it is now—
- Phil Lane
(added 12.21.09)
•••••••••••
I Am Younger Than Most Trees
He is asking for an opinion
at the small banana yellow circle table –
The shoes
of his understudies dangling in all directions,
adventurously from cherry red chairs.
Pearly whites splashing,
premolars chomping bubblegum in
the only moment.
The question arises,
in such homelike voice.
There is no wrong answer in that voice.
I would like that simple eloquence.
A bubble bursts, a pause
and another sprouts. It's being
thought over.
In this corner of the room, walls
lead into the forest,
mobiles are chandeliers on ceiling skies,
And Maurice and Russell are here
and howl and thunder from the aisles,
there if you need them.
So here I am studying.
That homelike voice will be a teacher someday.
I will try to not to be a professor,
admiring.
I am learning steadily.
I am younger than most trees.
- Erik Ta
(added 12.20.09)
•••••••••••
TWO MOONS HAIKU
two moons one water
slap the sea the ripples die
not a single sound
- Satnrose
(added 12.19.09)
•••••••••••
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'll be swirling it here 24/7!
Yuling Madly,
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
“Poetry is the statement of a relation between a man and the world.” Wallace Stevens
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