The Best of Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum : 11.02.12
“Poetry a riprap on the slick rock of metaphysics” ~ Gary Snyder
she was the one (above) by Toni Martin, one of over 20 featured 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 yours right over here and a-way you'll GO!
•••••••••••
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we wandered, wasted in word-search wonder, "thunk" went the thick thesaurus, dropped on our raw recall; we sliced with slight of hand hijinx, cut to the core of consternation; we lingered in lucky light, made luminous in dark of night; we husbanded root to harvest a fruit worthy of tongue and test of time; we burned our heroes, flame to smoke, reduced to punch line of knock-knock joke; we ensured ancestral eminence with wrinkle-free recollections of our laundered life; we combined all in computerized indulgence of inhibition, electronic assuagement of angst, personified in pixelated perfection by our ever-attractive avatars. Cyber world without end, amen! ~ mh
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
Cyber City
Seeks you
embraces our desires
captures all dreams
steals away the lives of ordinary people
promising to serve men, women
the loniest of the lonely
who pray for companionship
young, old, rich or poor
needy as they
who sit in corners
behind desks strewn with papers, photos and cream
laptops radiating the heat
of desperate lovers
who hear only the words from pink, thick lips
of avatars pure of heart
with nothing more to say than
"Hi - wanna hook-up?"
- Joseph D. DiLella
(2 poems added 11.02.12)
editor's note: Should you find yourself sliding down that slippery cyber slope, there's a remedy: (Another good one from Joseph on his page - check it out.) - mh
They Have Procedures
They have procedures
Hollowing husks of their lush past;
Papers and dirty laundry clutter
Their major moments,
Vacant lurks,
Frantic
Dry cleaning--
She shakes off the cling
- Daniel Wilcox
(added 11.02.12)
editor's note: Dirty deeds, like mob money, need laundering, too. Find a forgiving historian and wash away all. - mh
superheroes
burst into flames
on top of
my copy of
Ulysses
aren’t you glad
I didn’t say
tomato?
- Dustin Holland
(added 11.01.12)
editor's note: Knock! Knock! - mh
The Root of Creation
I find my...self
Having long walked the path
trod freely
by the careful landscapers of antiquity
Now
To move forward
I must go back
Back to the beginning
The beginning
Before it began
The Heart
Of my Art
That sacred and profound cradle
To which
The offspring
Now return
That Black Earth
Which nurtured the seed
That burst forth the tree
Which bore the fruit
And nectar
I
Have tasted
And now the Earth itself
Have I tasted
That the tree of my Art
may bear
Fruit
worth being
Tasted
- Ken Brooks
(added 10.31.12)
editor's note: Such worth, so hard to measure. Good earth, seed, tree, fruit. "Bad," says who? Subjectivity. - mh
Luminosity
I've heard from personal accounts
and television testimonials
that some lucky individuals
have seen the other side
Can death be new life?
Is heaven that close?
that we can follow the light out of a tunnel
like sewer rats in search of truth?
It's a beautiful comfort
in knowing that a purifying radiance exists
that a doomed love can see the light of day
that a lost soul can be born again
Our human nature seeks light
Time to make things right
If I could reverse lumination
from the hour cast of stars
in my mother's belly
I would pluck the jagged ones
and replace them with hope instead
It pains me
to count losses at the speed of light
We are drawn together
by a promising brightness,
Is it possible to take apart war
and create peace?
Is there safety in numbers?
Parked at a convenience store,
I observe millions of moths
swim to a light post,
while a desperate city flickers
© 2012
- Rafael Andrade Garza
(1 poem added 10.30.12)
editor's note: Keep the jagged ones in a drawer in the nightstand; never open before sun up. - mh
What We Do is Secret
Under night’s haze
I vomit integrity
and eclipse myself
with deprivation
I am
the scalpel
cutting
your corpse
And
beyond
this door
the children
are laughing
- Andrew J. Stone
(added 10.29.12)
editor's note: Surgical soap opera self-mutilation suspended. Takes less muscles to smile, you know. - mh
Black Thesaurus
Weather,
a pencil drawing, obsidian
and lead before the first tear falls.
Power surges,
bulb condemned on thin line,
dull glow sparks, semblance of still life.
Shadow plays the walls,
flash somber on curdled cream,
faded paper drinks the dying sun.
Inside, outside,
bones grow brittle rickety,
pasty sallow shades of D minus.
Bent back crawls
along these ink smudged halls,
pallid lost, sketched in hidden corners.
- Rose Aiello Morales
(1 poem added 10.28.12)
editor's note: Every poet's plight: Give me a word that means, "Ecstatically agonized effort to emote and see wrote words which match the feelings inside." - 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...
Riprappin',
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
•••••••••••
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we wandered, wasted in word-search wonder, "thunk" went the thick thesaurus, dropped on our raw recall; we sliced with slight of hand hijinx, cut to the core of consternation; we lingered in lucky light, made luminous in dark of night; we husbanded root to harvest a fruit worthy of tongue and test of time; we burned our heroes, flame to smoke, reduced to punch line of knock-knock joke; we ensured ancestral eminence with wrinkle-free recollections of our laundered life; we combined all in computerized indulgence of inhibition, electronic assuagement of angst, personified in pixelated perfection by our ever-attractive avatars. Cyber world without end, amen! ~ mh
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
Cyber City
Seeks you
embraces our desires
captures all dreams
steals away the lives of ordinary people
promising to serve men, women
the loniest of the lonely
who pray for companionship
young, old, rich or poor
needy as they
who sit in corners
behind desks strewn with papers, photos and cream
laptops radiating the heat
of desperate lovers
who hear only the words from pink, thick lips
of avatars pure of heart
with nothing more to say than
"Hi - wanna hook-up?"
- Joseph D. DiLella
(2 poems added 11.02.12)
editor's note: Should you find yourself sliding down that slippery cyber slope, there's a remedy:
They Have Procedures
They have procedures
Hollowing husks of their lush past;
Papers and dirty laundry clutter
Their major moments,
Vacant lurks,
Frantic
Dry cleaning--
She shakes off the cling
- Daniel Wilcox
(added 11.02.12)
editor's note: Dirty deeds, like mob money, need laundering, too. Find a forgiving historian and wash away all. - mh
superheroes
burst into flames
on top of
my copy of
Ulysses
aren’t you glad
I didn’t say
tomato?
- Dustin Holland
(added 11.01.12)
editor's note: Knock! Knock! - mh
The Root of Creation
I find my...self
Having long walked the path
trod freely
by the careful landscapers of antiquity
Now
To move forward
I must go back
Back to the beginning
The beginning
Before it began
The Heart
Of my Art
That sacred and profound cradle
To which
The offspring
Now return
That Black Earth
Which nurtured the seed
That burst forth the tree
Which bore the fruit
And nectar
I
Have tasted
And now the Earth itself
Have I tasted
That the tree of my Art
may bear
Fruit
worth being
Tasted
- Ken Brooks
(added 10.31.12)
editor's note: Such worth, so hard to measure. Good earth, seed, tree, fruit. "Bad," says who? Subjectivity. - mh
Luminosity
I've heard from personal accounts
and television testimonials
that some lucky individuals
have seen the other side
Can death be new life?
Is heaven that close?
that we can follow the light out of a tunnel
like sewer rats in search of truth?
It's a beautiful comfort
in knowing that a purifying radiance exists
that a doomed love can see the light of day
that a lost soul can be born again
Our human nature seeks light
Time to make things right
If I could reverse lumination
from the hour cast of stars
in my mother's belly
I would pluck the jagged ones
and replace them with hope instead
It pains me
to count losses at the speed of light
We are drawn together
by a promising brightness,
Is it possible to take apart war
and create peace?
Is there safety in numbers?
Parked at a convenience store,
I observe millions of moths
swim to a light post,
while a desperate city flickers
© 2012
- Rafael Andrade Garza
(1 poem added 10.30.12)
editor's note: Keep the jagged ones in a drawer in the nightstand; never open before sun up. - mh
What We Do is Secret
Under night’s haze
I vomit integrity
and eclipse myself
with deprivation
I am
the scalpel
cutting
your corpse
And
beyond
this door
the children
are laughing
- Andrew J. Stone
(added 10.29.12)
editor's note: Surgical soap opera self-mutilation suspended. Takes less muscles to smile, you know. - mh
Black Thesaurus
Weather,
a pencil drawing, obsidian
and lead before the first tear falls.
Power surges,
bulb condemned on thin line,
dull glow sparks, semblance of still life.
Shadow plays the walls,
flash somber on curdled cream,
faded paper drinks the dying sun.
Inside, outside,
bones grow brittle rickety,
pasty sallow shades of D minus.
Bent back crawls
along these ink smudged halls,
pallid lost, sketched in hidden corners.
- Rose Aiello Morales
(1 poem added 10.28.12)
editor's note: Every poet's plight: Give me a word that means, "Ecstatically agonized effort to emote and see wrote words which match the feelings inside." - 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...
Riprappin',
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
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