The Best of Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum : 05.29.10
“When genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it hot.” D.H. Lawrence
Photo (above) by our photographer Brian Guilliaux , one of over 20 artists currently coloring the virtual walls in Mad Swirl's eclectic electronic collective Mad Gallery.
Just in case you missed it, here's just a taste of the poetry we featured this week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum...
•••••••••••
Labor of Lasciviousness
The girls I meet wanna suck my blood,
not my boner but my bone marrow.
They wanna pull my hair and push
me out in front of cars and trucks.
Vroom Vroom Pow Splat.
They wanna back me into corners and hit
me in the face with axes and wall
me up with bricks and black cats.
They wanna chain me to anchors and then
Invite me swimming because they know
I cant say no, because no
is such an ugly word, and girls…
girls are quite the opposite.
Alex L. Swartzentruber
(added 05.29.10)
editor's note: Givin' it up for love. Takin' the pain, sufferin' the shame. Roses are red, violets are blue - "Vroom Vroom Pow Splat" Ain't love grand? - mh
•••••••••••
OUT OF STYLE AND TRES UNCOOL
I am the world's most toxic bachelor
And I wonder if Christians would wear a knife around their necks
If I woulda got hold to Jesus
Instead of Judas Iscariot
I'm 26 years old and scared shitless
When I look at how 15-year-old kids
Act the same way my mom did during the 1980s/early 1990s wave of Satanic panic
Stop me if you've heard this one
Some ex-conformist kid went through various stages of anti-conformist conformity
And still didn't find something socially acceptable at the end
All the same, he had a conscience
And didn't settle for being a crackhead thug with only one thing on his mind
Despite his ever increasing awareness of the moral ambiguities of the human race of animals
In his spare time, he listened to his favorite violent music
To combat the stagnation he was forced to put up with as an adolescent
And now here I am in the city
Every bit as vilified as a bumbling bad guy just because I still hate the stagnation
As it is ever strong
And even the young crave more
Like rotten milk from a dead mother's nipple
I am so fucked
Feel lucky if I don't take you out with me when I turn 30
If I make it that long.
Kyle Segars
(2 poems added 05.28.10)
editor's note: "Shun the unfamiliar and call it 'Evil,' cuz it surely must be. All the good we know is all there is to know, otherwise we would know it. Anything we don't know or cain't understand ain't worth knowing, MUST be Evil. You know?" The pastor spoke these words and the deacon stood up to shout, "Can I get an Amen!?!" - mh
•••••••••••
When Surfing eHarmony 4 Another Maya
< SHeByte >
Internet Explorer me till I’m Yahoo for pop-ups!
Google me till my eBay is full of cache cookies!
Flash drive me till my pixels bleed analog Blog!
Domain me till my .com screams .cum come on!
< HeRAM >
Begin
while 1=1 do begin
outtext(“Eh, …hello, Maya?”);
outimage;
end;
End;
< SHeByte >
Spyware me with your latest anti-virus.
Bit Torrent me with your G-4 iPod.
Harddrive me with your global Tomtom.
SPAM me with your wet phishing game.
< HeRAM >
with Text_To; use Text_To
procedure whoa
begin
put(“Whoa, just a minute.”);
end whoa
< SHeByte >
Punched card me;
dot matrix me;
un-zip me;
8-bit me;
n00b me.
< HeRAM >
program TooMuch;
begin
writeln(“Too much stimuli.”);
end.
< SHeByte >
Copy & paste me?
DOS prompt me?
Snail mail me?
Off-on me?
< HeRAM >
******Ouput for Love
WRITE(6,*) “Love doesn’t compute.”
STOP
END
< SHeByte >
If your Y2K buffer’s overflow
& hasn’t been properly reformatted,
your heart-disk is still broken.
Your 1.0 version is incompatible
with any wi-fi networking hotspots.
Reinitialize; life ain’t no demo-version.
< HeRAM >
(define download-overload
(lambda ( )
(begin
(write “Download Overload”)
(newline)
(download-overload))))
< SHeByte >
Quick press “Ctrl+Alt+Delete” & reboot.
Hit “any key” for a T1 lifeline to reconnect
or face the blue screen of death.
< HeRAM >
>403 Forbidden - Access Denied
>The Data Path specified, C:\CYBERLOVE\MAYA\, is invalid. Defaulting to ..ISOLATION\.
>A fatal exception øE has occurred with heart-drive at ø157:BF7FF831
>Error (404 Not Found) - Mouse is unattached
>SYSTEM HALTED
>SHUTDOWN NOW
>…
>
< SHeByte >
WWW(World Wide Wait)…
Oh, well…
no hyperlink syncs 4ever.
All tactile rights reserved.
Lee Minh Sloca
(2 poems added 05.27.10)
editor's note: Ain't no love like cyber love... gone wrong. Be still, my broken algorithm! - mh
•••••••••••
Ocean Afternoons
On the sand beneath the sun
With the sea stretched out in front of me,
I close my eyes and feel the rays dance upon my skin
As I let the sand seep through my fingers and stick to my palms.
The crash of the waves and the call of the gulls are constant reminders
Of this beautiful place.
A smile cracks across my lips,
With eyes still closed and hands still full of sand.
A drop of sweat falls from my brow as a salty mist passes to cool me down.
The wind carries the sound of a child laughing
And the pit put of a nearby paddle ball game.
I dig my toes deep into the ground until they find the cool relief they were searching for.
I open my eyes to find everything covered in a thick film of blue.
My lashes bat the beating light.
The smile grows wider.
Alex Gerba
(added 05.26.10)
editor's note: Nice to feel these sensations and think of why we spend time in these cubicles, kitchens, ditches, hospitals, teller windows; wherever we give the machine its due for our monetary compensation. Dig those toes deep, grow that smile! - mh
•••••••••••
if
if she shaved her cunt
we'd probably still
be together.
i could live with
the hemorrhoid
but the hairy
pussy was just too much
Moctezuma Johnson
(1 poem added 05.25.10)
editor's note: In this consumer market we have choices; we want what we want. Just be prepared for vendor non-compliance; or, even more challenging, reciprocity - a "win-win" transaction. But, if that is what seals the deal, I wouldn't recommend using a blade. - mh
•••••••••••
Braille
How could I not have seen it?
Wandering, wondering in Braille,
making my point far too obvious,
wanting to see inside of you, through
your eyes, under your skin, entering
every pore, all entryways opening
to my touch; I was too eager, too earnest,
ended up trying way too much.
Licking drip off fingernails, new to the sense
of flavor as education, finding blood not to my liking.
Needling, picking at your bumps and scars,
poking into places better left alone.
In knowing I destroyed the magic, broke
this bubble of happiness, discovering too late
That you cannot taste the rainbow.
Now we stumble along naked alleyways,
leaves and trash blown harsh against our faces,
stranded, stagnant against this rolling tide
the enlightened merely side step blithely.
The blind now leading the blind.
Rose Morales
(2 poems added 05.24.10)
editor's note: This speaks to our penchant to destroy what we love; can't stop asking "what if?", "how come?", "why not?" Maybe our blindness isn't the only problem. We can figure our way by touch, as she said, "the enlightened merely sidestep blithely." Maybe dumbness will help to keep those rainbows alive; let's just shut the hell up sometimes! - mh
•••••••••••
zoo
and now i don't have the heart to say;
those things i might've said: that i meant for you to heed
"tongue how you speak
taste your own words
lift your lids to the cusp, and
drink the meniscus of meaning"
look to the towels who dry your sodden repose
and the moon perpetrating glory
when the haughty of your face is lifted to it
and the leopard spotted decor that john james audubon never painted
drapes one dreary self
on your wildest and most african dreams
and those ornithological societies would cluck!
but i don't, kind friend
i tuck your violence in, to sleep
making naps - deep in my pocket, hidden
at the edges of america and beyond
where we bought our acreage in dreams
where our studios were fitted
to paint north american mammals
in their perilous hair
where we slip into senility, believing
we are reconciled to a dying world
Isaac Seal
(added 05.23.10)
editor's note: Does what we speak direct our dreams? Can we speak a different world than the one we believed before we spoke? All the clucking makes me tired; embodies my American, dream. - mh
•••••••••••
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 poetic conversations going on in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum? Then stop by whenever the mood strikes! We'll be here...
Diggin'-every-minute-of-it,
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
Photo (above) by our photographer Brian Guilliaux , one of over 20 artists currently coloring the virtual walls in Mad Swirl's eclectic electronic collective Mad Gallery.
Just in case you missed it, here's just a taste of the poetry we featured this week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum...
•••••••••••
Labor of Lasciviousness
The girls I meet wanna suck my blood,
not my boner but my bone marrow.
They wanna pull my hair and push
me out in front of cars and trucks.
Vroom Vroom Pow Splat.
They wanna back me into corners and hit
me in the face with axes and wall
me up with bricks and black cats.
They wanna chain me to anchors and then
Invite me swimming because they know
I cant say no, because no
is such an ugly word, and girls…
girls are quite the opposite.
Alex L. Swartzentruber
(added 05.29.10)
editor's note: Givin' it up for love. Takin' the pain, sufferin' the shame. Roses are red, violets are blue - "Vroom Vroom Pow Splat" Ain't love grand? - mh
•••••••••••
OUT OF STYLE AND TRES UNCOOL
I am the world's most toxic bachelor
And I wonder if Christians would wear a knife around their necks
If I woulda got hold to Jesus
Instead of Judas Iscariot
I'm 26 years old and scared shitless
When I look at how 15-year-old kids
Act the same way my mom did during the 1980s/early 1990s wave of Satanic panic
Stop me if you've heard this one
Some ex-conformist kid went through various stages of anti-conformist conformity
And still didn't find something socially acceptable at the end
All the same, he had a conscience
And didn't settle for being a crackhead thug with only one thing on his mind
Despite his ever increasing awareness of the moral ambiguities of the human race of animals
In his spare time, he listened to his favorite violent music
To combat the stagnation he was forced to put up with as an adolescent
And now here I am in the city
Every bit as vilified as a bumbling bad guy just because I still hate the stagnation
As it is ever strong
And even the young crave more
Like rotten milk from a dead mother's nipple
I am so fucked
Feel lucky if I don't take you out with me when I turn 30
If I make it that long.
Kyle Segars
(2 poems added 05.28.10)
editor's note: "Shun the unfamiliar and call it 'Evil,' cuz it surely must be. All the good we know is all there is to know, otherwise we would know it. Anything we don't know or cain't understand ain't worth knowing, MUST be Evil. You know?" The pastor spoke these words and the deacon stood up to shout, "Can I get an Amen!?!" - mh
•••••••••••
When Surfing eHarmony 4 Another Maya
< SHeByte >
Internet Explorer me till I’m Yahoo for pop-ups!
Google me till my eBay is full of cache cookies!
Flash drive me till my pixels bleed analog Blog!
Domain me till my .com screams .cum come on!
< HeRAM >
Begin
while 1=1 do begin
outtext(“Eh, …hello, Maya?”);
outimage;
end;
End;
< SHeByte >
Spyware me with your latest anti-virus.
Bit Torrent me with your G-4 iPod.
Harddrive me with your global Tomtom.
SPAM me with your wet phishing game.
< HeRAM >
with Text_To; use Text_To
procedure whoa
begin
put(“Whoa, just a minute.”);
end whoa
< SHeByte >
Punched card me;
dot matrix me;
un-zip me;
8-bit me;
n00b me.
< HeRAM >
program TooMuch;
begin
writeln(“Too much stimuli.”);
end.
< SHeByte >
Copy & paste me?
DOS prompt me?
Snail mail me?
Off-on me?
< HeRAM >
******Ouput for Love
WRITE(6,*) “Love doesn’t compute.”
STOP
END
< SHeByte >
If your Y2K buffer’s overflow
& hasn’t been properly reformatted,
your heart-disk is still broken.
Your 1.0 version is incompatible
with any wi-fi networking hotspots.
Reinitialize; life ain’t no demo-version.
< HeRAM >
(define download-overload
(lambda ( )
(begin
(write “Download Overload”)
(newline)
(download-overload))))
< SHeByte >
Quick press “Ctrl+Alt+Delete” & reboot.
Hit “any key” for a T1 lifeline to reconnect
or face the blue screen of death.
< HeRAM >
>403 Forbidden - Access Denied
>The Data Path specified, C:\CYBERLOVE\MAYA\, is invalid. Defaulting to ..ISOLATION\.
>A fatal exception øE has occurred with heart-drive at ø157:BF7FF831
>Error (404 Not Found) - Mouse is unattached
>SYSTEM HALTED
>SHUTDOWN NOW
>…
>
< SHeByte >
WWW(World Wide Wait)…
Oh, well…
no hyperlink syncs 4ever.
All tactile rights reserved.
Lee Minh Sloca
(2 poems added 05.27.10)
editor's note: Ain't no love like cyber love... gone wrong. Be still, my broken algorithm! - mh
•••••••••••
Ocean Afternoons
On the sand beneath the sun
With the sea stretched out in front of me,
I close my eyes and feel the rays dance upon my skin
As I let the sand seep through my fingers and stick to my palms.
The crash of the waves and the call of the gulls are constant reminders
Of this beautiful place.
A smile cracks across my lips,
With eyes still closed and hands still full of sand.
A drop of sweat falls from my brow as a salty mist passes to cool me down.
The wind carries the sound of a child laughing
And the pit put of a nearby paddle ball game.
I dig my toes deep into the ground until they find the cool relief they were searching for.
I open my eyes to find everything covered in a thick film of blue.
My lashes bat the beating light.
The smile grows wider.
Alex Gerba
(added 05.26.10)
editor's note: Nice to feel these sensations and think of why we spend time in these cubicles, kitchens, ditches, hospitals, teller windows; wherever we give the machine its due for our monetary compensation. Dig those toes deep, grow that smile! - mh
•••••••••••
if
if she shaved her cunt
we'd probably still
be together.
i could live with
the hemorrhoid
but the hairy
pussy was just too much
Moctezuma Johnson
(1 poem added 05.25.10)
editor's note: In this consumer market we have choices; we want what we want. Just be prepared for vendor non-compliance; or, even more challenging, reciprocity - a "win-win" transaction. But, if that is what seals the deal, I wouldn't recommend using a blade. - mh
•••••••••••
Braille
How could I not have seen it?
Wandering, wondering in Braille,
making my point far too obvious,
wanting to see inside of you, through
your eyes, under your skin, entering
every pore, all entryways opening
to my touch; I was too eager, too earnest,
ended up trying way too much.
Licking drip off fingernails, new to the sense
of flavor as education, finding blood not to my liking.
Needling, picking at your bumps and scars,
poking into places better left alone.
In knowing I destroyed the magic, broke
this bubble of happiness, discovering too late
That you cannot taste the rainbow.
Now we stumble along naked alleyways,
leaves and trash blown harsh against our faces,
stranded, stagnant against this rolling tide
the enlightened merely side step blithely.
The blind now leading the blind.
Rose Morales
(2 poems added 05.24.10)
editor's note: This speaks to our penchant to destroy what we love; can't stop asking "what if?", "how come?", "why not?" Maybe our blindness isn't the only problem. We can figure our way by touch, as she said, "the enlightened merely sidestep blithely." Maybe dumbness will help to keep those rainbows alive; let's just shut the hell up sometimes! - mh
•••••••••••
zoo
and now i don't have the heart to say;
those things i might've said: that i meant for you to heed
"tongue how you speak
taste your own words
lift your lids to the cusp, and
drink the meniscus of meaning"
look to the towels who dry your sodden repose
and the moon perpetrating glory
when the haughty of your face is lifted to it
and the leopard spotted decor that john james audubon never painted
drapes one dreary self
on your wildest and most african dreams
and those ornithological societies would cluck!
but i don't, kind friend
i tuck your violence in, to sleep
making naps - deep in my pocket, hidden
at the edges of america and beyond
where we bought our acreage in dreams
where our studios were fitted
to paint north american mammals
in their perilous hair
where we slip into senility, believing
we are reconciled to a dying world
Isaac Seal
(added 05.23.10)
editor's note: Does what we speak direct our dreams? Can we speak a different world than the one we believed before we spoke? All the clucking makes me tired; embodies my American, dream. - mh
•••••••••••
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 poetic conversations going on in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum? Then stop by whenever the mood strikes! We'll be here...
Diggin'-every-minute-of-it,
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
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