The Best of Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum : 09.01.12

“I guess we all like to be recognized not for one piece of fireworks, but for the ledger of our daily work” ~ Neil Armstrong

The Fallen Comrade (above) by one of over 20 featured artists, Joseph A. Garrison, 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!

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This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we riffed some rhyme; we flipped a fantastic flatline; we indulged anorexic angst; we whispered a wanton wish; we knicked a nice nut; we grinned at a grief gaff; we vetted the verity of a voice. ~ mh

Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...

THE SECRET VOICE

The secret voice
finds my wound.
Like a needle
it pricks me.

With immense sound
it shouts in
my ears and I
start to bleed.

The secret voice
lingers like an
echo that won’t
go away.

It bores through
my skull. It will
not take pity
or forgive.

- Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

(1 poem added 09.01.12)

editor's note: Those ceaseless accusations, if heard by all, would be exposed as unfounded. That's the secret. (Luis has recently released a new book of poetry, Songs for Oblivion. Read our Mad Review of it and see how you can get a copy.) - mh

Wedding Day

I recited Leisure by WH Davies
Which I was asked to do again
When you could no longer do the asking.
Lymphoma, Hodgkin’s? I am not sure
Not even now
I have no one to ask.
You looked as well as could be expected
Or at least you do on the videos
Singing Hotel California.
There were jokes in your speech.
The only real jokes I have ever heard.
About having no future,
Jokes, not at which you laughed alone
But you were alone.
A little while later
(Discordant to see one so ill drinking beer)
I snuck down to the bathroom
Where grief met me
And told me to stay there.
On the dance floor,
You said your work colleagues
Had given you 30,000 pounds
To go to Paris
And I said it just shows you what you meant to them.
What you mean to them,
I corrected myself.

- Christopher Smith

(1 poem added 08.31.12)

editor's note: One is wedded to grief as another is wedded to death. - mh

Nutmeat

My dear, tell me again so I know
how it would have been
had you married the man

you dream of all day, tell me again
as I lie next to you now,
your nutmeat sweet in my mouth.

Tell me again so I know
how to feel for fathering five
on you fast, five in six years,

five who will never be quiet again
in our lives, five who will leave
in the night when they are of age

while up in our room I nibble
on nutmeat, proud to have traded
an oak for these acorns.

- Donal Mahoney

(1 poem added 08.30.12)

editor's note: Sometimes the sweetest meat comes from the feast not chosen but eaten. - mh

Untitled

a wish
a dream
some sort of spell
or sorcery
to turn back the time
move it forward
faster
freeze it
then
within
eternity
hold you there
forever close
and
whisper feathers
in your
belly's ear

- Jesse Doughty

(1 poem added 08.29.12)

editor's note: If wishes were dishes, I'd be servin' up plucked lovebird stew. Proof of my undying appetite for you... Sweet, Jesse! - mh

Anorexia

I'm gaining weight!
Putting the pounds
Back on!

I just know it!

I can feel my face
Growing, getting
Rounder. Right
Now as I sit!

My gut is getting
Out there, too.
I can feel the fat
Building back up,

With each second.

I'm putting the
Pounds back on.
I just know it!

It must be that
Sandwich I ate
A couple of days ago.

I shouldn't have
Been so fucking
Gluttonous! So
Weak!

If I can go without
Eating for about two
Days, maybe I'll burn
It off.

Maybe I can push
It to three.

I'm putting the pounds
Back on. I just know it!

Look at my face! It wasn't
This round yesterday! My
Gut wasn't this big either!

I shouldn't have eaten
That sandwich.

I think I'm putting the
Pounds back on.

I can't go back to
My former self!

When no one noticed me!
Didn't know I existed!
No one fucking cared!

Then, it was, "Oh, you
Look great! Wow! Look
At you!

"Wow."

I don't hear that anymore.
Now I hear voices of
Concern.

They're just jealous.

Everyone knows the
Larger you are, the
More invisible you
Become.

And, I'm not going
Back to that!

I would rather die!

I'm going to check the
Scale...

I weigh the same...

Or maybe I lost the
Weight in-between
Weigh-ins, and now
I'm gaining it back.

I think I'm putting
The pounds back on.

I just know it.

- Roderick Richardson

(1 poem added 08.28.12)

editor's note: Such is the fate of the invisible man; responsible for missing sandwiches everywhere. - mh

Flatline

boom boom.......... boom boom......... boom..... boom.. (beeeeeeeeeeeeep)........ Have I the lover of all minds really stopped breathing? People trying to revive not realizing Im not coming back to life inspite of the decibles that dont beat across the screen of life. Have I really left or is it just my mind. Once upon a time I had the power to walk alone and give people the power to change their perspective of human things, but as the time then the time now to just leave it all behind??? Naw... I think its just the mental state of the brain that controls my body and soul.... down to my legs, up to my arms. Layin here not moving will have the world to stop spinning. I guess its just all the words that flow from my paper and pen. Thoughts from within I keep thinking when will the depths of suffering ever end. With the help of God my mood switches to keep my nerves from twitching. This shall bring me back to life arising not fantisizing about how I was just asleep in bed with all these ideas in my head. Not was I alive or dead but flatline. Coming to realize now that this was the time of life that I struggled to heal... Now I am who I should be not partaking in nothing but the uplifting of the hands from the man that will increase my vocabulary. This person is me.......

- Persephone Taylor

(added 08.27.12)

editor's note: Regale in retrospect from the repose of death; the ultimate hindsight! - mh

A Poem Or Two

Hey, I could use a poem or two
To brighten up my day --
There's nothing like a merry verse
To chase the gloom away.

Yes, I could use a poem or two
To thrust upon my foes --
There's nothing like a witty word
To step on hated toes.

So, I could craft a poem or two,
But they are hard to hone.
There's nothing like an awkward verse
To make an author groan.

- Irena Pasvinter

(1 poem added 08.26.12)

editor's note: A rhyme about rhyme, about the struggle sublime. Nice! - mh

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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...

Recognizin',

Johnny O
Editor-in-chief

MH Clay
Poetry Editor

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