The Best of Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum : 07.07.12
“A poet must leave traces of his passage, not proof.” ~ Rene Char
Passage (above) by featured artist, Jon Marquette, one of over 20 artists currently coloring the virtual walls in Mad Swirl's eclectic electronic collective Mad Gallery. We know you'll wanna see mo' fo' sho' so move that mad mouse of yo's right over here and a-way you'll GO!
•••••••••••
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we (like god) feasted on the fruit of our imagined world; we slipped the slew of angelic pursuit; we saw angelic transformation, metamorphosis from midnight malaise; we pitched a prurient proposition, the "only" for the "if"; we tapped the trick of painted trees, our dry-eyed gaze drenched in evening dew; we read a record dragged from dust, monograph morphed to saving grace; we thought to block the beat of death, bribed angels, implored old flesh to wait awhile. Nope, go not silent, hell no! Someone's gotta make a ruckus, might as well be poets. ~ mh
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
Death tomorrow
After the rain ceases to drop
Its drumming sobs
From that surgically opened sky
Beautifully cut, memories fly like angry butterflies,
An old man knocks at heaven’s door
Angels verify his past via their own search site,
The road is muddy and indiscreet
Trapping the feeble footprints,
I cannot trace her mad moves
The air of Kathmandu is vibrant
Acoustic colours and I almost signal the end of a century,
Clouds surround me like bad spirits
Wanting to consume everything,
The earth saddens
Flowers bend down in despair
Rocks crumble
At the coming of uninvited death,
I stare at the tired eyes of my mother
I tell her to wait for a while,
I tell her to wait for a while.
Rain weeps in my sleepy ears.
- Arun Budhathoki
(1 poem added 07.07.12)
editor's note: One can hope angel bureaucracy requires additional site search time; another decade or so. "wait for awhile" - mh
Ivory
I’ve found
this following
the dust, take note
of not the journey but
the record. If there’s anything
I’ll be able to
say after,
it’s that I could’ve tried to be
a saving grace. A century
ago, this was scrapped
to a piece.
So if you
have time
enough
and can
feel these
lips for your
self, this
wilderness is
your inheritance.
- Sean Burnham
(added 07.06.12)
editor's note: Lost, scrapped artifact; an erstwhile scavenger's treasure. A kiss is a saving grace! - mh
Sequoias
Look to Sequoias,
Eastern Juniper,
and Western Red Cedar,
for strength. Behold these visions
from the AXIS
of Pthalo Turquoise,
and Cadmium Scarlet. This
visual-symbolic CONUNDRUM
is stretched over sinewy
French blue,
then the dew sensor,
goes off.
- Dan Hedges
(added 07.05.12)
editor's note: Comprehend this canvas of sky, framing the arboreal inflorescence, which appears once you reach the dew point. Wet wonder! - mh
Only you will
understand these words. I don't
know you
but I understand
you.
I like the way
your body languages, yet
such propriety in your
everything.
Circumspect, yet direct. I bet
ferocious when angry.
(I want to see
all of that.)
And the subtle,
you handle operating
with underivative
aplomb.
I like the tension
sometimes inadvertently
when you're thinking
surprises.
And those classy
kindnesses you
didn't know if
I noticed (I did).
I like how you
(that says it all) are
smarter than you
really need to be.
You're birdlike
and I
like
birds.
I like the illimitable
loyalty you
conduct,
clockwise.
I admire your severe
equanimity, slightly
unsettled
by cute.
Did I mention your startling
curiosity; or the
funny color
of your interesting?
Now, the if. You get
the I don't believe it
part, but there's the
consider it angle, too.
Don't ever hug me
until you know
if you do I
will not
let go.
- Craig Kurtz
(added 07.04.12)
editor's note: After such a wonderful proposition, one can't believe it results in "Only you won't." - mh
Life After Midnight
Kick me punch me & bring me down to your level just for 20 bucks.
Push me pull me I would walk on glass if it would set me free.
A hotel room or the back seat of a car wherever there is cash.
Forbidden passion you can have with me as you bruise and scratch my skin.
Exercise your hatred your demons your sorrow your arrogance as a man.
In a time filled with darkness to a time when I can settle alone.
Bright light city Las Vegas filled with a million different worlds.
Clean or sober married with children & pretending life is fine.
So when you have finished with your lust is it me or you who gets burnt.
But the fear of rejection leaves me silent I only wanted to be loved.
To soothe my pain & the sorrows of the past when daddy used to play.
Our games together when mom was out please save me God from the shame.
It hurts me so then & now to know that mom knew the games we played.
Was she watching from afar skies of my clouded life as the rain turned to tears.
I try hard to convince myself though painful to remember that sex can be filled with fears.
Things that are said can sometimes be misread hindsight such a wonderful thing.
Life in a city that never sleeps & the smell of alcohol as I entertain turning trick after trick.
To me this is an eternity as l stumble on with a depth of inadequacy -
all I want to do is scream.
Never judge me without the drugs & drink a metamorphosis once more unable to fight.
Every shift ends the same more often then not touches down in county jail
my life after midnight.
- Karla JP Black
(added 07.03.12)
editor's note: For a price, the ladies of the night will come down to john's level. The rest of the time they soar above what comes after midnight. - mh
Tess Haiku
blood on the ceiling
Tess runs after her angel
hell bent for leather
- Virginie Colline
(added 07.02.12)
editor's note: To the Tess's of the world: Keep those windows closed and you're sure to bag your angel, in time. For the rest, use rubber gloves and bleach. - mh
Imagine May Day
Brazen witches fly, legends say,
dark Moon nights; arise, stealthy, silent
in their joyous revelry.
Bonded to Earth's creation;
learning at mother's breast
to manage life's gifts and lessons.
Historic Man may proclaim, may murder
for fealty, to swear allegiance to
their hunt's command.
They may elevate their One True King
to kneel and obey. They may employ
counting measure, ceremony and sacrifice,
taunting and torture or other trials
thus finding for each loyal swan a pond
to plunder, to parade in royal colour,
their place of pride.
Cruelty descends, more master than tactic;
it is the enemy of joy, of flavor,
bonding, works of love and honor.
Yet men, on real ground, work companions
to soil and rain, engineers trained to each
moment's urgencies, philosophers of stone and mud,
reason and toil, persist. Their sinew and bone feed
the ages, build clay and richness on which
wealth relies.
Wisdom knows the sweat of practiced movement,
flexible to unexpected obstacles, able to modulate
quiet or loud as the crowd ebbs
or grows in credulity.
Where wisdom seeps through, counters
prevailing poisons, invigorates blood to nourish
minds and hearts, look there for blessing.
Arise, lovers! Bring forth better days,
ours to play in open revelry,
neighbors enjoying shared labors and our fruit.
Accept truth of magic; imagine life into this world.
Beltane 2012
- Laurie Corzett
(1 poem added 07.01.12)
editor's note: A day for change is not restricted to a date on the calendar. These sentiments inspire us to "bring forth better days" today. - 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...
Passing Unnoticed,
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
•••••••••••
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we (like god) feasted on the fruit of our imagined world; we slipped the slew of angelic pursuit; we saw angelic transformation, metamorphosis from midnight malaise; we pitched a prurient proposition, the "only" for the "if"; we tapped the trick of painted trees, our dry-eyed gaze drenched in evening dew; we read a record dragged from dust, monograph morphed to saving grace; we thought to block the beat of death, bribed angels, implored old flesh to wait awhile. Nope, go not silent, hell no! Someone's gotta make a ruckus, might as well be poets. ~ mh
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
Death tomorrow
After the rain ceases to drop
Its drumming sobs
From that surgically opened sky
Beautifully cut, memories fly like angry butterflies,
An old man knocks at heaven’s door
Angels verify his past via their own search site,
The road is muddy and indiscreet
Trapping the feeble footprints,
I cannot trace her mad moves
The air of Kathmandu is vibrant
Acoustic colours and I almost signal the end of a century,
Clouds surround me like bad spirits
Wanting to consume everything,
The earth saddens
Flowers bend down in despair
Rocks crumble
At the coming of uninvited death,
I stare at the tired eyes of my mother
I tell her to wait for a while,
I tell her to wait for a while.
Rain weeps in my sleepy ears.
- Arun Budhathoki
(1 poem added 07.07.12)
editor's note: One can hope angel bureaucracy requires additional site search time; another decade or so. "wait for awhile" - mh
Ivory
I’ve found
this following
the dust, take note
of not the journey but
the record. If there’s anything
I’ll be able to
say after,
it’s that I could’ve tried to be
a saving grace. A century
ago, this was scrapped
to a piece.
So if you
have time
enough
and can
feel these
lips for your
self, this
wilderness is
your inheritance.
- Sean Burnham
(added 07.06.12)
editor's note: Lost, scrapped artifact; an erstwhile scavenger's treasure. A kiss is a saving grace! - mh
Sequoias
Look to Sequoias,
Eastern Juniper,
and Western Red Cedar,
for strength. Behold these visions
from the AXIS
of Pthalo Turquoise,
and Cadmium Scarlet. This
visual-symbolic CONUNDRUM
is stretched over sinewy
French blue,
then the dew sensor,
goes off.
- Dan Hedges
(added 07.05.12)
editor's note: Comprehend this canvas of sky, framing the arboreal inflorescence, which appears once you reach the dew point. Wet wonder! - mh
Only you will
understand these words. I don't
know you
but I understand
you.
I like the way
your body languages, yet
such propriety in your
everything.
Circumspect, yet direct. I bet
ferocious when angry.
(I want to see
all of that.)
And the subtle,
you handle operating
with underivative
aplomb.
I like the tension
sometimes inadvertently
when you're thinking
surprises.
And those classy
kindnesses you
didn't know if
I noticed (I did).
I like how you
(that says it all) are
smarter than you
really need to be.
You're birdlike
and I
like
birds.
I like the illimitable
loyalty you
conduct,
clockwise.
I admire your severe
equanimity, slightly
unsettled
by cute.
Did I mention your startling
curiosity; or the
funny color
of your interesting?
Now, the if. You get
the I don't believe it
part, but there's the
consider it angle, too.
Don't ever hug me
until you know
if you do I
will not
let go.
- Craig Kurtz
(added 07.04.12)
editor's note: After such a wonderful proposition, one can't believe it results in "Only you won't." - mh
Life After Midnight
Kick me punch me & bring me down to your level just for 20 bucks.
Push me pull me I would walk on glass if it would set me free.
A hotel room or the back seat of a car wherever there is cash.
Forbidden passion you can have with me as you bruise and scratch my skin.
Exercise your hatred your demons your sorrow your arrogance as a man.
In a time filled with darkness to a time when I can settle alone.
Bright light city Las Vegas filled with a million different worlds.
Clean or sober married with children & pretending life is fine.
So when you have finished with your lust is it me or you who gets burnt.
But the fear of rejection leaves me silent I only wanted to be loved.
To soothe my pain & the sorrows of the past when daddy used to play.
Our games together when mom was out please save me God from the shame.
It hurts me so then & now to know that mom knew the games we played.
Was she watching from afar skies of my clouded life as the rain turned to tears.
I try hard to convince myself though painful to remember that sex can be filled with fears.
Things that are said can sometimes be misread hindsight such a wonderful thing.
Life in a city that never sleeps & the smell of alcohol as I entertain turning trick after trick.
To me this is an eternity as l stumble on with a depth of inadequacy -
all I want to do is scream.
Never judge me without the drugs & drink a metamorphosis once more unable to fight.
Every shift ends the same more often then not touches down in county jail
my life after midnight.
- Karla JP Black
(added 07.03.12)
editor's note: For a price, the ladies of the night will come down to john's level. The rest of the time they soar above what comes after midnight. - mh
Tess Haiku
blood on the ceiling
Tess runs after her angel
hell bent for leather
- Virginie Colline
(added 07.02.12)
editor's note: To the Tess's of the world: Keep those windows closed and you're sure to bag your angel, in time. For the rest, use rubber gloves and bleach. - mh
Imagine May Day
Brazen witches fly, legends say,
dark Moon nights; arise, stealthy, silent
in their joyous revelry.
Bonded to Earth's creation;
learning at mother's breast
to manage life's gifts and lessons.
Historic Man may proclaim, may murder
for fealty, to swear allegiance to
their hunt's command.
They may elevate their One True King
to kneel and obey. They may employ
counting measure, ceremony and sacrifice,
taunting and torture or other trials
thus finding for each loyal swan a pond
to plunder, to parade in royal colour,
their place of pride.
Cruelty descends, more master than tactic;
it is the enemy of joy, of flavor,
bonding, works of love and honor.
Yet men, on real ground, work companions
to soil and rain, engineers trained to each
moment's urgencies, philosophers of stone and mud,
reason and toil, persist. Their sinew and bone feed
the ages, build clay and richness on which
wealth relies.
Wisdom knows the sweat of practiced movement,
flexible to unexpected obstacles, able to modulate
quiet or loud as the crowd ebbs
or grows in credulity.
Where wisdom seeps through, counters
prevailing poisons, invigorates blood to nourish
minds and hearts, look there for blessing.
Arise, lovers! Bring forth better days,
ours to play in open revelry,
neighbors enjoying shared labors and our fruit.
Accept truth of magic; imagine life into this world.
Beltane 2012
- Laurie Corzett
(1 poem added 07.01.12)
editor's note: A day for change is not restricted to a date on the calendar. These sentiments inspire us to "bring forth better days" today. - 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...
Passing Unnoticed,
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
Comments