The Best of Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum : 05.14.11
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... started with a boom and a school boy's leer at dark anticipated pleasures; languished in poet procrastination; teetered on the edge of insanity; cavorted amidst kitchen cacophony, (Long live the Twinkies!); groped a grating grain of sand; sullied the search for rainbow's gold in favor of it's shadow; then settled into straight instruction on when to rock it and when to shut the hell up.
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
take your time, fellas
slow it down
pull up a comfortable chair
light a cigarette
pour yourself a glass of wine
ladies put down vogues
the makeup the textbooks
pull up a chair
you hear that
quiet, that voice to let it fly.
reading to you
that’s your voice. know when the time comes
to shred it, to rock it
take your will
- Ra! Gabriel
(2 poems added 05.14.11)
editor's note: Yes! Let's rock it, speak it, Swirl it! This is how the Muse selects - when we take our time. We are eggs, teach us! (Welcome back our longtime Contributor, Ra! Gabriel! See another one from Ra! on his page - it's a brain tweaker, check it out.) - mh
I stand in the rainbow’s shadow
I stand in the rainbow’s shadow
it’s multicolor veil surrounds me
creating my soul, my essence
your bright arched brother
gets all the attention
what fools they are
distracted by shiny things
for here is reality, life
comfort, and peace
eternal in it’s brevity
fleeting minutes to suckle
then sunshine, you thief
rendering me impotent to breath
waiting to start again
searching for another rainbow
to find my serenity
not in that sparkling veneer
but below it
- Steve Roberts
editor's note: Most of us will suffocate in the sun or drown in the rain before we find such refuge. How do you find a rainbow's shadow, anyway? - mh
PAST TENSE, PAST CARING
Within me there will rise an urgency
I shall hold in my hand some newer plan
Of major advancements, then we shall see
For I shall burst forth on the universe
As a stellar bomb of popping candy
And random indistinctive scatterings
Oh I may be lost there in yon desert
Just another bit of grit in the boot
Forever sand, yet individual
- Anthony Murphy
(1 poem added 05.12.11)
editor's note: That one grain draws the most ire, even though a desertful cannot quench a parched throat. - mh
Sugar donuts frolic among star crunching pop-tarts
Dry goods are playing games with each other
The chicken in the freezer counts its parts
I saw this all & screamed for my mother…
Chef Boyardee gets a solid microwave tan
While Betty Crocker hides a bun in the oven
The scoop is that the dough-boy is her man
But, he is busy giving Dolly Madison lovin’…
Cigarettes smoke & give themselves cancer
So that Twinkies can live always.
(Long live the Twinkies!)
Macaroni and Cheese is a pretty good dancer
Depending on the gig & how well it pays.
- Michael R. King
editor's note: I want these ingredients in all my recipes! Always knew Mac & Cheese was mercenary, but there's no substitute for good dancing. - mh
Untouched by Madness
Driven to the edge of insanity
Twenty years is too long to be doing this shit
I’m at the brink cos of all the drink and drug
There’s no way back from here
Just darkness and madness
I pity those I’m leaving behind
Those untouched by madness must get awfully bored
Can you think of a more depressing life
Than one without the magical twins of drink and drug
Just lightness and mundanity
- Bradford Middleton
editor's note: Sanity is under-appreciated without madness to provide stark contrast. The mad provide a public service for the sane - should be funded by our governments. - mh
cup of coffee, fresh made.
pencil, mechanical 0.5mm leads.
about 200 sheets of paper left in the ream,
hunting knife with a five-inch blade.
page a day calendar with the word of the day
(today being ‘Kaaba’, which is some kind of building).
meditation beads, tigers eye.
a frog (reading a book) paperweight.
a loaded 9mm from Springfield Armory.
an unabridged dictionary, and a
some trinidads from Fanny May
and a pile of unrevised poetry and stories.
- Jhon Baker
(1 poem added 05.09.11)
editor's note: Everything in it's place, except the will to get started. Hmmmm, where's the remote... - mh
That Great, Wonderful Boom
The dismissal bell resounded, rang
Across rooms, halls, playgrounds.
Music boomed where:
Bus drivers talked,
Animated for service,
Checked their visors.
My watch misted.
Three antiquated hands aligned;
Hour, minute, second.
Passed over mental sleeping bags
Beyond cognitive boxes
Housing local news,
Real estate finds,
Next door neighbors’ dalliances.
Boredom makes semantics relative,
Among holy teachers.
Our time’s measured in tests and in graces
Which reject life chapters
Spread fully open,
Like rutting teenagers, who
Take leisure at bus stops,
Playgrounds, coffee houses.
Rather, we clerics’ small, intrepid voices must
Mark rustic cabins’ acreage,
Limits how immense swimming pools can grow,
Structure late night debates
On paying electric bills or mortgage,
On cell phone tones,
On chimeless texting
On maraudering coworkers.
Tamed, such matters
Slink into closets,
Hide under desks,
Get erased at recess,
Best, they’re relocated young.
Meanwhile, dark, anticipated pleasures
Wait until fully flowered
Or when the bell rings.
- KJ Hannah Greenberg
editor's note: Boom to be free, outside the confines of the combine, out in the open, free to bloom. - 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...
Lookin' Inward mon,