The Best of Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum : 03.12.11
“Write in recollection and amazement for yourself.” Jack Kerouac
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we got lost in the leaves on our way to bong-hit station (figuratively or literally, our choice), learned some new social survival skills to stop the flow of word-inflicted wounds, pondered our predilection for food from the view of the pie, belched then drifted into dreamland, wind propelled, to wake up on the other side.
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
•••••••••••
WHITE SONNET
One dreams
while the other
resembles a lost freight train’s
elephant call.
They both have wings
as witnessed
by broken eggshells and coffee grounds
mulched into the clay garden.
A lusty breeze’s bulging mouth
sneaks its young
through a barbed wire fence.
Releases them
on the opposite side
of the universe.
- Alan Britt
(2 poems added 03.12.11)
editor's note: Wow! This is greatness! I want to catch the young one's tail, hitch along to the opposite side. May I, lusty breeze? (Another good one from Alan on his poetry page - check it out.) - mh
•••••••••••
The Big Pie
He said to me, did you die?
It was just another lie
lying naked in the all of you
and I was drowning
into the water of your eyes
because I hated apples
and snakes sounded more appealing
definitely more revealing
that I am alone in this big pie.
- Gabrielle Bryant-Gainer
(added 03.11.11)
editor's note: And here I thought I was baked in with a full "four and twenty." When the king is hungry, I will be his appetizer. - mh
•••••••••••
The most important thing in life
With out it what are we? We are a decaying corpse rotting in mud!
Warm, crusty, hard, soft,
bread is life!
Green, red, yellow, white, the vegetable is life.
O food, food, food
With out it what are we? We are a decaying corpse rotting in mud!
Juicy, succulent meat and firm, fresh fish.
O food, food, food,
You make us happy, love, sad, ill, upset, ecstatic, glad even regretful,
You make us feel life!
O food, food, food
With out it what are we? We are a decaying corpse rotting in mud!
- Luke Ritta
(added 03.10.11)
editor's note: I think it's pretty much "with" or "without" - either way we share the same fate. So, dinner at 8 - let's eat! - mh
•••••••••••
Blood (Letting)
Razor words
cut quick
deep gashes,
thin-tongued blade
gone in a silver flash.
Close-mouthed,
the edge concealed
again,
hard lips reveal
nothing.
The flayed opponent
bleeds,
unaware that
easy disregard
can cauterize the wound.
- Randall Johnson
(added 03.09.11)
editor's note: Here's a how-to from Randall Johnson on dealing with sticks and stones. Yes, they can break bones... if you let'em. - mh
•••••••••••
Survival instincts
I keep very busy
to avoid the void
and I talk a lot
because silence
is awkward
and I make
much love
to abstain
from abstinence
I find strangers
to be stranger
than friends
and though
I may be happy
to make your
acquaintance
I must face
the fact
that I am
better with faces
especially those
who accept
my need
for their
acceptance.
- Ivan Jenson
(2 poems added 03.08.11)
editor's note: You'd have to be a socially out-going octopus to cover your bases this well - or a conversational chameleon. I am inspired. Thanks, Ivan! (Another good one from Ivan, about someone we know, on his page - check it out.) - mh
•••••••••••
The Izz Ain't on Tonight
I
Winged disco thugs have drive-by boogied all of the streetlights. Every digit in the district is jamming the fuzz line. Sometimes, it's better to space the facts and strap on your groovy wild west gun belt. However, my matching platform cowboy boots were all lost in the Great Colon Fire of Last Week. Hot sauce costs more than the price tag proclaims. Dig? I wish I were a monstrous funk-a-teer. Damn my sexy Charles Bronson cheekbones!
II
As blood-scented anxiety lathers all up in my jump-kick vivaciousness, I decide to indulge my buds in a slamming ham sandwich, ride the neon beanbag chair to bong hit station and watch Barnaby Jones reruns until the glitter settles.
III
Heroism is the Cheese Whiz of less lovely rodents.
- R.G. Johnson
(added 03.07.11)
editor's note: Well, what's so strange? We all have our own secret, smoke-sodden scenarios to consider while the glitter settles. And, I don't care for Cheese Whiz anyway - it makes my teeth feel slimy. - mh
•••••••••••
DISAPPEARANCE
Tonight the leaves
fall without
touching the ground.
Back and forth
the sweeping wind
carries them
until they disappear
like UFO abductees.
I search out
the sky for a sign
of them, but it’s dark.
The stars,
veiled by clouds,
cannot help me,
nor the orange moon.
- Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
(2 poems added 03.06.11)
editor's note: Those things we see, but cannot find. All evidence of their existence is gone, but for memory - what we think is memory. We are all leaves. - 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...
Hazily Crazy,
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
(Happy Birthday Jack)
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we got lost in the leaves on our way to bong-hit station (figuratively or literally, our choice), learned some new social survival skills to stop the flow of word-inflicted wounds, pondered our predilection for food from the view of the pie, belched then drifted into dreamland, wind propelled, to wake up on the other side.
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
•••••••••••
WHITE SONNET
One dreams
while the other
resembles a lost freight train’s
elephant call.
They both have wings
as witnessed
by broken eggshells and coffee grounds
mulched into the clay garden.
A lusty breeze’s bulging mouth
sneaks its young
through a barbed wire fence.
Releases them
on the opposite side
of the universe.
- Alan Britt
(2 poems added 03.12.11)
editor's note: Wow! This is greatness! I want to catch the young one's tail, hitch along to the opposite side. May I, lusty breeze? (Another good one from Alan on his poetry page - check it out.) - mh
•••••••••••
The Big Pie
He said to me, did you die?
It was just another lie
lying naked in the all of you
and I was drowning
into the water of your eyes
because I hated apples
and snakes sounded more appealing
definitely more revealing
that I am alone in this big pie.
- Gabrielle Bryant-Gainer
(added 03.11.11)
editor's note: And here I thought I was baked in with a full "four and twenty." When the king is hungry, I will be his appetizer. - mh
•••••••••••
The most important thing in life
With out it what are we? We are a decaying corpse rotting in mud!
Warm, crusty, hard, soft,
bread is life!
Green, red, yellow, white, the vegetable is life.
O food, food, food
With out it what are we? We are a decaying corpse rotting in mud!
Juicy, succulent meat and firm, fresh fish.
O food, food, food,
You make us happy, love, sad, ill, upset, ecstatic, glad even regretful,
You make us feel life!
O food, food, food
With out it what are we? We are a decaying corpse rotting in mud!
- Luke Ritta
(added 03.10.11)
editor's note: I think it's pretty much "with" or "without" - either way we share the same fate. So, dinner at 8 - let's eat! - mh
•••••••••••
Blood (Letting)
Razor words
cut quick
deep gashes,
thin-tongued blade
gone in a silver flash.
Close-mouthed,
the edge concealed
again,
hard lips reveal
nothing.
The flayed opponent
bleeds,
unaware that
easy disregard
can cauterize the wound.
- Randall Johnson
(added 03.09.11)
editor's note: Here's a how-to from Randall Johnson on dealing with sticks and stones. Yes, they can break bones... if you let'em. - mh
•••••••••••
Survival instincts
I keep very busy
to avoid the void
and I talk a lot
because silence
is awkward
and I make
much love
to abstain
from abstinence
I find strangers
to be stranger
than friends
and though
I may be happy
to make your
acquaintance
I must face
the fact
that I am
better with faces
especially those
who accept
my need
for their
acceptance.
- Ivan Jenson
(2 poems added 03.08.11)
editor's note: You'd have to be a socially out-going octopus to cover your bases this well - or a conversational chameleon. I am inspired. Thanks, Ivan! (Another good one from Ivan, about someone we know, on his page - check it out.) - mh
•••••••••••
The Izz Ain't on Tonight
I
Winged disco thugs have drive-by boogied all of the streetlights. Every digit in the district is jamming the fuzz line. Sometimes, it's better to space the facts and strap on your groovy wild west gun belt. However, my matching platform cowboy boots were all lost in the Great Colon Fire of Last Week. Hot sauce costs more than the price tag proclaims. Dig? I wish I were a monstrous funk-a-teer. Damn my sexy Charles Bronson cheekbones!
II
As blood-scented anxiety lathers all up in my jump-kick vivaciousness, I decide to indulge my buds in a slamming ham sandwich, ride the neon beanbag chair to bong hit station and watch Barnaby Jones reruns until the glitter settles.
III
Heroism is the Cheese Whiz of less lovely rodents.
- R.G. Johnson
(added 03.07.11)
editor's note: Well, what's so strange? We all have our own secret, smoke-sodden scenarios to consider while the glitter settles. And, I don't care for Cheese Whiz anyway - it makes my teeth feel slimy. - mh
•••••••••••
DISAPPEARANCE
Tonight the leaves
fall without
touching the ground.
Back and forth
the sweeping wind
carries them
until they disappear
like UFO abductees.
I search out
the sky for a sign
of them, but it’s dark.
The stars,
veiled by clouds,
cannot help me,
nor the orange moon.
- Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
(2 poems added 03.06.11)
editor's note: Those things we see, but cannot find. All evidence of their existence is gone, but for memory - what we think is memory. We are all leaves. - 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...
Hazily Crazy,
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
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