The Best of Mad Swirl : 09.27.14
”We only understand that which already is within us.” Henri Frederic Amiel
••• The Mad Gallery •••
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Photo (above) by featured artist Rosie Lindsey. To see more Mad works from Rosie, and our other contributing artists, please visit our Mad Gallery.
••• The Poetry Forum •••
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we braced ourselves 'gainst a filigreed night, the dust of wings in a "talcum twilight"; we sat with zoo scions, refined - tittered and tippled our tea-hee-hee; we sucked the siphon, tube and trough, consumers consigned to lather, rinse and repeat; we revived a resurgence of fit survivors, genetic journeymen and asteroid dodgers; we boiled our ancestral urges down to nothin' but bun fun; we filtered our buff-bod reality through 65-something, wish-I-was, vanity; we sunk and smiled, pickled and perplexed all the while, afloat in a jar-ing now...
We float, we flounder; each day spins rounder to right our teetering flight - soar and steal the sky! ~ MH Clay
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
Maybe
I penned you a song
upon an eggshell
in vinegar ink
and put it in
a mason jar
and then
i closed the lid.
the last time that it rained
i threw the jar in the river
and watched it float away.
maybe one day
when you are drowning
that jar will be the last thing that you see
and just maybe
you know it might
make you smile.
- Jesse Doughty
(1 poem added 09.27.14)
editor's note: Yes, indeed! If we're gonna go, might's well go with a smile. Thanks, Jesse! - mh
Vanity
In the park pushing my granddaughter
on the swings, guiding her
across the monkeybars
up the ladders and down the slides
the only man in the place surrounded
by trophy wives and buxomy blonde European nannies
but none of them not one of them notices me
with my new weight-trained body
thick shoulders and arms broad chest and back
pushing lifting climbing pulling (and flexing)
toiling in the afternoon sun
and I can’t comprehend why
I’m not getting a single look
or even a simple shallow furtive smile
from any of these beauties then
I get home glance in the mirror
at my 65 year old body and understand why.
- Michael Estabrook
(1 poem added 09.26.14)
editor's note: Alas, it's not the seed, however vital and strong, but the seed dispenser who matters to fertile field keepers. Vanity, indeed! - mh
Oaf with Saturday Night Fever
The urgency of warthogs
wandering in the brush
grunting for ripe acorns
sounds like aging hunters
prowling in a singles bar
late on a Saturday night
half an hour from closing
no beauty queen in sight
till one of them decides
to meet Miss Prim and Proper
who suddenly looks lovely.
But she rejects the come-on
Big Man saved from high school:
"Honey, I have the hot dog
and you have the bun. Let's
get together and have some fun."
- Donal Mahoney
(1 poem added 09.25.14)
editor's note: This kind of fit will always be destined to NOT survive. Tell me another one, big boy! - mh
evolvement
nature has endowed us with genes
to pass on mutations that helped us
evolve from primitive hominoids
to our present-day form and
on to an unbelievable future
in early childhood we learn to compete
to study to enable us to better ourselves
compete with our peers
surpass them in life’s battle
survival of the fittest
has worked on this world
for several billion years
and will continue into
the foreseeable future
when we shall finally learn
if we are alone
in this expanding universe
or........
barring an eccentric asteroid
- Milt Montague
(added 09.24.14)
editor's note: For those who do or don't get evolved, it's aliens or a great big rock. - mh
The Nature of Cities VIII
Mass transportation,
vital connection
allows workers
to reach the privileged,
disruptively halts,
frequently slows,
preventing delivery
of goods, services,
necessary to all
who share environments.
Flawed urban planning
lack of foresight
left cities dependent
on rapid transit.
rarely rapid,
often interrupted
by delayed subways,
street congestion,
unregulated autos,
poor traffic control,
conditions conspiring
to shatter efficiency.
- Gary Beck
(1 poem added 09.23.14)
editor's note: Urban renewal. The ants serve the mound. Concrete is king! - mh
Sitting on a lonesome mountaintop while drinking tea with Jack Kerouac
TEA!
Strong Assam with wild tigers
Murky Green and an old lazy panda
Refreshing Darjeeling while watching a movie by Wes Anderson
Delicate Jasmine with the rising sun
Sweet fennel, mediating afternoons
Powerful peppermint in a foggy hilltop town
Sitting on a lonesome mountaintop while drinking tea with Jack Kerouac
TEA!
- Luke Ritta
(1 poem added 09.22.14)
editor's note: Delightful sips for six days o' bliss. Pick a seventh; Keemum, Yunnan Golden or Silver Yin Zhen Pearls - see who comes with... - mh
Dips and gathers
Love dips and gathers
in a silent shroud
of turtle doves as
the sun glints
on the dust of their wings.
The edges of the sky
peel back and uncover
its blue and purple heart
in a mid summer's
talcum twilight.
- Dawnell Harrison
(1 poem added 09.21.14)
editor's note: As summer dwindles; a watercolor rendering to remember in winter. Thanks, Dawnell! - mh
••• Short Stories •••
Need a read? Sounds like a real problem you got there. Luckily we got a fine solution for ya'! If you're blah then the latest addition to our short stories library, "Nothing If Not Critical" by Oliver Zarandi just might make you feel a whole lot better about your blah-blems. Here's what Short Story Editor Tyler Malone had to say about this pick-of-the-week story: "Just another tragedy, folks. Just another bloody tab in your browser, a sad story on your feed, a tweeted tragedy. For every victim, for every corpse, there’s someone who loved how warm they were."
Here's a samplin':
“The problem is that there are three problems.
First problem is that Clyde can’t cry. Hasn’t cried in, what, a year?
Second problem, he has stopped moving. Literally.
Well, not quite literally. He goes to the shop to satiate thirst and hunger with cheap food—chocolate-covered matchsticks, milkshakes and matzos. But still, his movements are decreasing.
He stopped going to work, you know?
I said, Clyde, go to work and he said, what for and I said to put bread on the table. He said look, there’re, like, two loaves on the table, eat some, finish it and I’ll go cornershop and get another two loaves, maybe three, or maybe four? Would four please you?
He has mold in his armpits. What’s worse is that the house is falling apart and I can’t do it all myself, you know?
He gets worse every day…
Is this one of those stories that twists into a happy & sappy ending? Ha! Don't count on it. But you can count on the rest of this story grabbin' ya' and hangin' on for dear life. Get the rest of your read on here!
••• Open Mic •••
Join Mad Swirl this 1st Wednesday of October (aka 10.01.14) at 8:00 sharp, when we will swirl it up madly in the LIVE way that we do every month. Get to the Lounge early, dig upon the musical musings of Swirve and this month's feature…Dallas poet, writer, musician (& unicorn in disguise) Kerseymere! (aka Charles Randall)
After our feature set we urge you stick around to get yourself a spot on our list... first come, first on the list! Which means... get there early!
Come one, come all! Mad poets, musicians, actors, singers, circus freaks and Elvis impersonators... come-n-strut-yo-stuff. Come to participate. Come to appreciate. Come to be a part of this collective creative love child we affectionately call Mad Swirl. RSVP (via Book’o’Faces) on spot on our mic list here!
AND, as you may or may not know, every 1st Wednesday we get all giddy with the swirlin' madness. Here's the line-up for the rest of 2014!…
November: Mad Swirl's 10th Open Mic B-Day Swirl-a-bration!
December: Paul Koniecki
•••••••
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 mad conversations going on in Mad Swirl's World? Then stop by whenever the mood strikes! We'll be here...
Understandin’,
Johnny O
Chief Editor
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
Tyler Malone
Short Story Editor
Madelyn Olson
Visual Editor
••• The Mad Gallery •••
Photo (above) by featured artist Rosie Lindsey. To see more Mad works from Rosie, and our other contributing artists, please visit our Mad Gallery.
••• The Poetry Forum •••
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we braced ourselves 'gainst a filigreed night, the dust of wings in a "talcum twilight"; we sat with zoo scions, refined - tittered and tippled our tea-hee-hee; we sucked the siphon, tube and trough, consumers consigned to lather, rinse and repeat; we revived a resurgence of fit survivors, genetic journeymen and asteroid dodgers; we boiled our ancestral urges down to nothin' but bun fun; we filtered our buff-bod reality through 65-something, wish-I-was, vanity; we sunk and smiled, pickled and perplexed all the while, afloat in a jar-ing now...
We float, we flounder; each day spins rounder to right our teetering flight - soar and steal the sky! ~ MH Clay
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
Maybe
I penned you a song
upon an eggshell
in vinegar ink
and put it in
a mason jar
and then
i closed the lid.
the last time that it rained
i threw the jar in the river
and watched it float away.
maybe one day
when you are drowning
that jar will be the last thing that you see
and just maybe
you know it might
make you smile.
- Jesse Doughty
(1 poem added 09.27.14)
editor's note: Yes, indeed! If we're gonna go, might's well go with a smile. Thanks, Jesse! - mh
Vanity
In the park pushing my granddaughter
on the swings, guiding her
across the monkeybars
up the ladders and down the slides
the only man in the place surrounded
by trophy wives and buxomy blonde European nannies
but none of them not one of them notices me
with my new weight-trained body
thick shoulders and arms broad chest and back
pushing lifting climbing pulling (and flexing)
toiling in the afternoon sun
and I can’t comprehend why
I’m not getting a single look
or even a simple shallow furtive smile
from any of these beauties then
I get home glance in the mirror
at my 65 year old body and understand why.
- Michael Estabrook
(1 poem added 09.26.14)
editor's note: Alas, it's not the seed, however vital and strong, but the seed dispenser who matters to fertile field keepers. Vanity, indeed! - mh
Oaf with Saturday Night Fever
The urgency of warthogs
wandering in the brush
grunting for ripe acorns
sounds like aging hunters
prowling in a singles bar
late on a Saturday night
half an hour from closing
no beauty queen in sight
till one of them decides
to meet Miss Prim and Proper
who suddenly looks lovely.
But she rejects the come-on
Big Man saved from high school:
"Honey, I have the hot dog
and you have the bun. Let's
get together and have some fun."
- Donal Mahoney
(1 poem added 09.25.14)
editor's note: This kind of fit will always be destined to NOT survive. Tell me another one, big boy! - mh
evolvement
nature has endowed us with genes
to pass on mutations that helped us
evolve from primitive hominoids
to our present-day form and
on to an unbelievable future
in early childhood we learn to compete
to study to enable us to better ourselves
compete with our peers
surpass them in life’s battle
survival of the fittest
has worked on this world
for several billion years
and will continue into
the foreseeable future
when we shall finally learn
if we are alone
in this expanding universe
or........
barring an eccentric asteroid
- Milt Montague
(added 09.24.14)
editor's note: For those who do or don't get evolved, it's aliens or a great big rock. - mh
The Nature of Cities VIII
Mass transportation,
vital connection
allows workers
to reach the privileged,
disruptively halts,
frequently slows,
preventing delivery
of goods, services,
necessary to all
who share environments.
Flawed urban planning
lack of foresight
left cities dependent
on rapid transit.
rarely rapid,
often interrupted
by delayed subways,
street congestion,
unregulated autos,
poor traffic control,
conditions conspiring
to shatter efficiency.
- Gary Beck
(1 poem added 09.23.14)
editor's note: Urban renewal. The ants serve the mound. Concrete is king! - mh
Sitting on a lonesome mountaintop while drinking tea with Jack Kerouac
TEA!
Strong Assam with wild tigers
Murky Green and an old lazy panda
Refreshing Darjeeling while watching a movie by Wes Anderson
Delicate Jasmine with the rising sun
Sweet fennel, mediating afternoons
Powerful peppermint in a foggy hilltop town
Sitting on a lonesome mountaintop while drinking tea with Jack Kerouac
TEA!
- Luke Ritta
(1 poem added 09.22.14)
editor's note: Delightful sips for six days o' bliss. Pick a seventh; Keemum, Yunnan Golden or Silver Yin Zhen Pearls - see who comes with... - mh
Dips and gathers
Love dips and gathers
in a silent shroud
of turtle doves as
the sun glints
on the dust of their wings.
The edges of the sky
peel back and uncover
its blue and purple heart
in a mid summer's
talcum twilight.
- Dawnell Harrison
(1 poem added 09.21.14)
editor's note: As summer dwindles; a watercolor rendering to remember in winter. Thanks, Dawnell! - mh
••• Short Stories •••
Need a read? Sounds like a real problem you got there. Luckily we got a fine solution for ya'! If you're blah then the latest addition to our short stories library, "Nothing If Not Critical" by Oliver Zarandi just might make you feel a whole lot better about your blah-blems. Here's what Short Story Editor Tyler Malone had to say about this pick-of-the-week story: "Just another tragedy, folks. Just another bloody tab in your browser, a sad story on your feed, a tweeted tragedy. For every victim, for every corpse, there’s someone who loved how warm they were."
Here's a samplin':
“The problem is that there are three problems.
First problem is that Clyde can’t cry. Hasn’t cried in, what, a year?
Second problem, he has stopped moving. Literally.
Well, not quite literally. He goes to the shop to satiate thirst and hunger with cheap food—chocolate-covered matchsticks, milkshakes and matzos. But still, his movements are decreasing.
He stopped going to work, you know?
I said, Clyde, go to work and he said, what for and I said to put bread on the table. He said look, there’re, like, two loaves on the table, eat some, finish it and I’ll go cornershop and get another two loaves, maybe three, or maybe four? Would four please you?
He has mold in his armpits. What’s worse is that the house is falling apart and I can’t do it all myself, you know?
He gets worse every day…
Is this one of those stories that twists into a happy & sappy ending? Ha! Don't count on it. But you can count on the rest of this story grabbin' ya' and hangin' on for dear life. Get the rest of your read on here!
••• Open Mic •••
Join Mad Swirl this 1st Wednesday of October (aka 10.01.14) at 8:00 sharp, when we will swirl it up madly in the LIVE way that we do every month. Get to the Lounge early, dig upon the musical musings of Swirve and this month's feature…Dallas poet, writer, musician (& unicorn in disguise) Kerseymere! (aka Charles Randall)
After our feature set we urge you stick around to get yourself a spot on our list... first come, first on the list! Which means... get there early!
Come one, come all! Mad poets, musicians, actors, singers, circus freaks and Elvis impersonators... come-n-strut-yo-stuff. Come to participate. Come to appreciate. Come to be a part of this collective creative love child we affectionately call Mad Swirl. RSVP (via Book’o’Faces) on spot on our mic list here!
AND, as you may or may not know, every 1st Wednesday we get all giddy with the swirlin' madness. Here's the line-up for the rest of 2014!…
November: Mad Swirl's 10th Open Mic B-Day Swirl-a-bration!
December: Paul Koniecki
•••••••
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 mad conversations going on in Mad Swirl's World? Then stop by whenever the mood strikes! We'll be here...
Understandin’,
Johnny O
Chief Editor
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
Tyler Malone
Short Story Editor
Madelyn Olson
Visual Editor
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