The Best of Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum : 03.09.13
“It is well with me only when I have a chisel in my hand.” Michelangelo
I enter the void armed only with a paint brush (above) by David Arthur-Simons, 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 framed a freakish plea for freedom; we met to mete the mix of sea at head and sky at feet; we shushed the avaricious appetite, appealed to an origin of opposite intent; we tried to clear the runway of uncertainties, settled instead for a song; we aimed to improve a deathly domicile, decorate or vacate, leave the mousetraps alone; we dallied in the day with dream determinations, impeded by our ignorance; we ended with an anemic autocrat's expenditure to effect an appearance of interest. ~ mh
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
It Had Been a Busy Day
The crown prince
put the shovel into a hole
already dug
lifted out some dirt
tossed it
for the camera.
Then the crown princess
stumbled over in heels
lifted out a little more dirt
tossed it gingerly
for the cameras.
They were both then ushered off
to a waiting car
back to their hotel.
It had been a busy day.
Both lifting
and tossing,
remembering to smile
all the
while.
- Ryan Quinn Flanagan
(1 poem added 03.09.13)
editor's note: When faced with a reeking, royal mountain of manure, the secret to rapid removal is: keep that shovel moving. (nose plugs help, too) - mh
Spleen
Lucid moments
dissolve
as you try to reach
the place
where towers rise
It may take everything
to understand
dreams dissected
in the laboratory of ignorance
as mysteries get uncovered
Always caught up
in what you call
irremediable habits
as your mind
leaves your body
and you drag yourself
around the house in pajamas
waking at dawn
between sleeps
- Francesca Castaño
(added 03.08.13)
editor's note: As we plumb the depths of our dream ignorance, mind detached, let one of those irremediable habits be a daily donning of clean underwear. - mh
Mousetraps
back when i used to call at lunch everyday
she'd sing me whatever song was stuck in her head
and i'd tell her it was beautiful
and i'd tell her to check the mousetraps
because i smelled something funny that morning
something funny, like death
- Kevin Coons
(added 03.07.13)
editor's note: If there aren't dead mice, the cheese is rotten. Time to pack (and don't walk barefoot in the basement). - mh
Hopeful
Kites are no good without strings
But birds aren't right without wings.
I think that it is probable
What connects us
Is invisible.
I brought a map and I bought a plan
But I had to choose canopener, or can.
I can't help myself knowing
My knowing
Might be what's going.
If your altitude
Ever loses ground
I'll be the airport
You can land upon.
I drove a train and I turned a car
But I was born lost seeing how you are.
I have a dictionary
Illustrating the fact:
There's uncertainty.
There will be times
You'll hear static, not chimes;
There will be times you'll feel
Turbulence instead of
Wheels.
Guitars can't play without strings
But I can't tune a tune without
living things.
I feel even hopeful
Our connection
Is untouchable.
If your flight pattern
Ever goes wrong
Just radio home
For another song.
- Craig Kurtz
(added 03.06.13)
editor's note: Here we have another treatise on string theory. We are all strung together in cosmic song! And speaking of song and honesty, check out Craig's new album, titled "Honesty" here. - mh
Silence
Here, ready this space.
Unclutter minds
deliriously engaged in such
habits cacophonous.
Disarm men of the weight
of their noxious weapons
of anger and distrust.
Unlock doors long latched in the clasp
of sorrow and unforgiving.
Begin to sing to them this song
soundless yet euphonious,
this language innate
to God and the angels.
Unfurl with your gaze, gentlest,
this message unflinching
of every soul's native dignity.
Teach them finally how to sit
above themselves and return
to our shared place of origin
in peace, in stillness.
(New Year's Day 2013)
- Rina Angela Corpus
(1 poem added 03.05.13)
editor's note: One last day, when we tire, we'll hear that final, "Sit down and shut up." Which will make us smile and, finally, sleep. (Let's welcome Rina Angela to our complicit confab of Contributing Poets! See more of her work on her new page.) - mh
WHERE THE SEA ENDS
I’ll meet you where the sea ends,
where the sky is eye level,
where boats are houses
or shipwrecked. I’ll meet you
where the horizon is at your
feet, where the water drowns
the sky. I’ll meet you where
there is no movement, where
one just sits and stares at
the blue sky at our feet.
I’ll meet you where the colors
of everything are off and
the only color is blue.
There is such a place, where
the sea ends and where
the sky is at eye level.
- Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
(1 poem added 03.04.13)
editor's note: When you meet on that shipwreck sea, bring a lifeline; enough to save two. - mh
Freedom
Urge me toward Freedom.
Become-
Covetous Avaricious Desirous.
Demanding flesh.
Needy soul.
Violent emotions.
Gadfly doubt.
As without;
so differs within.
Make me.
Take of me.
Give to me.
Become me.
Set me free.
- Shannon Barber
(added 03.03.13)
editor's note: Become all that, in the open? Yes, it's truth in advertising, full disclosure; freedom to choose what we make, take and give. - 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...
Chiselin',
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
I enter the void armed only with a paint brush (above) by David Arthur-Simons, 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 framed a freakish plea for freedom; we met to mete the mix of sea at head and sky at feet; we shushed the avaricious appetite, appealed to an origin of opposite intent; we tried to clear the runway of uncertainties, settled instead for a song; we aimed to improve a deathly domicile, decorate or vacate, leave the mousetraps alone; we dallied in the day with dream determinations, impeded by our ignorance; we ended with an anemic autocrat's expenditure to effect an appearance of interest. ~ mh
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
It Had Been a Busy Day
The crown prince
put the shovel into a hole
already dug
lifted out some dirt
tossed it
for the camera.
Then the crown princess
stumbled over in heels
lifted out a little more dirt
tossed it gingerly
for the cameras.
They were both then ushered off
to a waiting car
back to their hotel.
It had been a busy day.
Both lifting
and tossing,
remembering to smile
all the
while.
- Ryan Quinn Flanagan
(1 poem added 03.09.13)
editor's note: When faced with a reeking, royal mountain of manure, the secret to rapid removal is: keep that shovel moving. (nose plugs help, too) - mh
Spleen
Lucid moments
dissolve
as you try to reach
the place
where towers rise
It may take everything
to understand
dreams dissected
in the laboratory of ignorance
as mysteries get uncovered
Always caught up
in what you call
irremediable habits
as your mind
leaves your body
and you drag yourself
around the house in pajamas
waking at dawn
between sleeps
- Francesca Castaño
(added 03.08.13)
editor's note: As we plumb the depths of our dream ignorance, mind detached, let one of those irremediable habits be a daily donning of clean underwear. - mh
Mousetraps
back when i used to call at lunch everyday
she'd sing me whatever song was stuck in her head
and i'd tell her it was beautiful
and i'd tell her to check the mousetraps
because i smelled something funny that morning
something funny, like death
- Kevin Coons
(added 03.07.13)
editor's note: If there aren't dead mice, the cheese is rotten. Time to pack (and don't walk barefoot in the basement). - mh
Hopeful
Kites are no good without strings
But birds aren't right without wings.
I think that it is probable
What connects us
Is invisible.
I brought a map and I bought a plan
But I had to choose canopener, or can.
I can't help myself knowing
My knowing
Might be what's going.
If your altitude
Ever loses ground
I'll be the airport
You can land upon.
I drove a train and I turned a car
But I was born lost seeing how you are.
I have a dictionary
Illustrating the fact:
There's uncertainty.
There will be times
You'll hear static, not chimes;
There will be times you'll feel
Turbulence instead of
Wheels.
Guitars can't play without strings
But I can't tune a tune without
living things.
I feel even hopeful
Our connection
Is untouchable.
If your flight pattern
Ever goes wrong
Just radio home
For another song.
- Craig Kurtz
(added 03.06.13)
editor's note: Here we have another treatise on string theory. We are all strung together in cosmic song! And speaking of song and honesty, check out Craig's new album, titled "Honesty" here. - mh
Silence
Here, ready this space.
Unclutter minds
deliriously engaged in such
habits cacophonous.
Disarm men of the weight
of their noxious weapons
of anger and distrust.
Unlock doors long latched in the clasp
of sorrow and unforgiving.
Begin to sing to them this song
soundless yet euphonious,
this language innate
to God and the angels.
Unfurl with your gaze, gentlest,
this message unflinching
of every soul's native dignity.
Teach them finally how to sit
above themselves and return
to our shared place of origin
in peace, in stillness.
(New Year's Day 2013)
- Rina Angela Corpus
(1 poem added 03.05.13)
editor's note: One last day, when we tire, we'll hear that final, "Sit down and shut up." Which will make us smile and, finally, sleep. (Let's welcome Rina Angela to our complicit confab of Contributing Poets! See more of her work on her new page.) - mh
WHERE THE SEA ENDS
I’ll meet you where the sea ends,
where the sky is eye level,
where boats are houses
or shipwrecked. I’ll meet you
where the horizon is at your
feet, where the water drowns
the sky. I’ll meet you where
there is no movement, where
one just sits and stares at
the blue sky at our feet.
I’ll meet you where the colors
of everything are off and
the only color is blue.
There is such a place, where
the sea ends and where
the sky is at eye level.
- Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
(1 poem added 03.04.13)
editor's note: When you meet on that shipwreck sea, bring a lifeline; enough to save two. - mh
Freedom
Urge me toward Freedom.
Become-
Covetous Avaricious Desirous.
Demanding flesh.
Needy soul.
Violent emotions.
Gadfly doubt.
As without;
so differs within.
Make me.
Take of me.
Give to me.
Become me.
Set me free.
- Shannon Barber
(added 03.03.13)
editor's note: Become all that, in the open? Yes, it's truth in advertising, full disclosure; freedom to choose what we make, take and give. - 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...
Chiselin',
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
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