The Best of Mad Swirl : 11.21.15
“Everything we see hides another thing, we always want to see what is hidden by what we see.” ~ Rene Magritte
••• The Mad Gallery •••
“Tatum” (above) by featured artist David J. Thompson. With this one we close out David's second romp in our Gallery (with more Mad visuals to come from him as we Swirl on down the road, we hope!) To view all of David's works, as well as our other featured artists, visit our Mad Gallery.
••• The Poetry Forum •••
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we tipped in the balance of a writer's condolence; we questioned words of prevarication, exposed a liar's motivation; we lapped a lover's lenience, unhappy as convenience; we saw how an elder's angst went on the tale of youngling years misspent; we bore the break of love to take; we heard the word of child beseeching clarity in father's teaching; we conjured from our clamor a fantasy in amber. Rose-colored, prose-colored verses; forward leaps or wrenched reverses. We power through... ~ MH Clay
Tonight is for the Amber by James 'Bear' Rodehaver
Suppose her eyes were wet,
and the moon was blue, and
fish laid coins at our bare feet.
Terrifying mystery, wondering
how fast a boat tomorrow
rides in, gliding forever across
a glass sea of drowned yesterdays.
We stood at the shore and waved
at thin cranes dark against the horizon,
like music notes on a purple staff.
Some memories are trapped in amber,
others in broken glass, and I can’t recall
those days, and I shouldn’t, because I
put them there. Sometimes we cut our
feet looking for gold. Suppose love is a memory
of unity, and some of us cannot remember.
Suppose her eyes were blue, and the fish
were wet, and the moon laid bright coins
at our bare feet. Fantasy is just reality on its
head. But either way, tonight is for the amber.
November 21, 2015
editors note: A fish for a fantasy; a look at the world through amber-colored glasses. (We welcome James – we call him Bear – to our crazy confab of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay
Anyhow by Russ Cope
My children want to know
how and I tell them
any how, they want to know
truth and I tell them I have
none, they ask why I leave
when it gets touchy, I tell
them I did not know I did
that, they ask about their
mother and I say too much
or too little, depending on
the day, they want to know
if they look like me and I
say look again.
November 20, 2015
editors note: If we want them to find the right answers, best to teach them to ask the question for themselves. – mh clay
A part of me! by Gurpreet Singh Rana
The infinite lines
you drew
on my bare back
nailing your way
into my heart
still remain there
unscrubbed and unwashed
embedded into my skin
a part of me.
A part of me
you now ask to part
how could one
give away his own self
come and do erase
those resilient lines
come and take away some
of me and find
some of you in that.
November 19, 2015
editors note: From every encounter, we carry each others’ imprints; impossible to remove. How could, indeed? – mh clay
Youth is Wasted on the Young by Harley White
We heard it said repeatedly,
in adage olden and far-flung,
through springs misspent too heatedly,
that youth is wasted on the young.
Our ‘salad days’ of judgment green
found life a song to still be sung,
a wanton time when slate seemed clean.
Ah, youth is wasted on the young.
If mad pursuits of senseless aims
left us ‘at sea’, burned-out, unstrung,
from revelry in ‘fun and games’,
then youth is wasted on the young.
When ages past maturity
those words oft heard have freshly stung,
we see with blinding surety
that youth is wasted on the young.
Yet, wiser than we were before,
we heed the chimes at midnight rung
and anchor vagaries ashore.
Aye, youth is wasted on the young.
We seek enlightened paths to know
and glory just to dwell among
the blossoms of an inner glow.
Oh, youth is wasted on the young.
And golden years bring different dream,
when passion’s lost her silver tongue,
for lasting peace to reign supreme.
Yes, youth is wasted on the young.
November 18, 2015
editors note: Now’s the turn for youth to write; so far, it’s never yet been told. Turnabout, be sharp, not trite; how age is wasted on the old. – mh clay
Convenient by Tempest Brew
I’m convenient
like a phone by
the bed
like a small man
handing you
toilet tissue when
the roll runs out
and that’s why
this is just not
working well.
November 17, 2015
editors note: The best love is a delightful inconvenience. Keep looking. – mh clay
Birth place by Sam Rapth
The shadow of your swollen words
always falls over my past…
However it is,
why your words bother?…
just because,
they can?…
Trespassing is what you do
unconditionally…
forgiving is what I do
unconditionally…
I now am getting to know
what gives birth to lies…
November 16, 2015
editors note: From one’s desire to manipulate to another’s willingness to believe; who is the bigger fool? – mh clay
stealing from hank moody by Ben Newell
I recently found myself
in
one of those uniquely writerly situations
in which I was introduced
as a writer
to
another writer—
“My condolences,” I said
to the writer.
My condolences…
There you go,
I thought. Stealing from Hank Moody,
slinging his words
as if they were your own.
The writer
didn’t seem to catch
my plagiarism
Or perhaps
she just didn’t want to acknowledge
the allusion
as that would mean
she
like me
watches Californication
when
she should be doing
this.
November 15, 2015
editors note: Condolences all around! Now… where’s the remote? (We welcome Ben to the outrageous ranks of our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay
••• Short Stories •••
Need-a-Read? If you're as addicted to the stacked lines of words like we are, you gotta be gettin' the jones feelin' like we do when we need a read! Well we got just the fix for that!
This week's featured story comes from Gilbert Franco. Here is what Short Story Editor Tyler Malone had to say about "Boundaries": "We are God, all of us. We carry it in ourselves. God is humanity, the only drug you need."
Here's a few lines to get the readin' buzz goin':
("Cornhill" by Tyler Malone)
It is 7:35 in the afternoon and Kris is sitting in the middle of a row of kids at church. She is sweating and her leg is shaking and her heart is beating fast and the back of her eyes hurt. She is the most awake that she has ever been in her entire life. She has a lot of Ritalin and caffeine in her system.
Kris got the Ritalin from her friend, Julie, who has attention deficit disorder and takes Ritalin once a day as prescribed by her doctor. Ritalin has a reverse effect on people without attention deficit disorder. Julie said that it is often compared to cocaine. She said this because Kris wanted to experience drugs, but didn’t want to smoke marijuana because she didn’t want to cough. Kris is afraid of coughing because she is afraid of gagging because she is afraid of vomiting.
Kris bought three Ritalin 54mg pills. The pills are labeled “extended-release.”
Kris read online that the best way to feel high from extended-release Ritalin pills is to peel the two layers of coating from the actual substance. First the thick, red coating, then the thin, clear coating. Then crush the pill into powder and inhale the powder nasally. Within ten minutes, you will experience a light feeling of numbness in your head. This is normal. This numbness will be followed by gentle shaking of your body. This is normal. Next, your heart rate will increase and you will feel very awake and energetic. This is normal. Ritalin peaks when you feel the surge of energy. After it peaks, you will start to feel distant from yourself and the world around you. This is normal.
Oh yeah, feel this one coursing thru your bloodstream already? (it's OK, this is normal) Get the rest of your read fix on right here!
••• Mad Swirl Merch •••
If you're MAD and you know it, why not wear it loudly and proudly? The whole Mad Swirl of merch begins here, in our new online store! This merch will be available for purchase until November 29th. They come in all sizes for men and woman and a variety of colors. Come get you one... or two, you know, for the mad ones in your swirlin' world!
We here at Mad Swirl have been tossing around the idea of selling all kinds of merch but we aren't sure what the demand would be. We are dippin' our toe in the swirlin' waters with this lil store we set up. If all goes good, we will continue selling our madness and start offering up all kinds of crazy designs!
•••••••
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...
Seein',
Johnny O
Chief Editor
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
Tyler Malone
Short Story Editor
Madelyn Olson
Visual Editor
••• The Mad Gallery •••
“Tatum” (above) by featured artist David J. Thompson. With this one we close out David's second romp in our Gallery (with more Mad visuals to come from him as we Swirl on down the road, we hope!) To view all of David's works, as well as our other featured artists, visit our Mad Gallery.
••• The Poetry Forum •••
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we tipped in the balance of a writer's condolence; we questioned words of prevarication, exposed a liar's motivation; we lapped a lover's lenience, unhappy as convenience; we saw how an elder's angst went on the tale of youngling years misspent; we bore the break of love to take; we heard the word of child beseeching clarity in father's teaching; we conjured from our clamor a fantasy in amber. Rose-colored, prose-colored verses; forward leaps or wrenched reverses. We power through... ~ MH Clay
Tonight is for the Amber by James 'Bear' Rodehaver
Suppose her eyes were wet,
and the moon was blue, and
fish laid coins at our bare feet.
Terrifying mystery, wondering
how fast a boat tomorrow
rides in, gliding forever across
a glass sea of drowned yesterdays.
We stood at the shore and waved
at thin cranes dark against the horizon,
like music notes on a purple staff.
Some memories are trapped in amber,
others in broken glass, and I can’t recall
those days, and I shouldn’t, because I
put them there. Sometimes we cut our
feet looking for gold. Suppose love is a memory
of unity, and some of us cannot remember.
Suppose her eyes were blue, and the fish
were wet, and the moon laid bright coins
at our bare feet. Fantasy is just reality on its
head. But either way, tonight is for the amber.
November 21, 2015
editors note: A fish for a fantasy; a look at the world through amber-colored glasses. (We welcome James – we call him Bear – to our crazy confab of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay
Anyhow by Russ Cope
My children want to know
how and I tell them
any how, they want to know
truth and I tell them I have
none, they ask why I leave
when it gets touchy, I tell
them I did not know I did
that, they ask about their
mother and I say too much
or too little, depending on
the day, they want to know
if they look like me and I
say look again.
November 20, 2015
editors note: If we want them to find the right answers, best to teach them to ask the question for themselves. – mh clay
A part of me! by Gurpreet Singh Rana
The infinite lines
you drew
on my bare back
nailing your way
into my heart
still remain there
unscrubbed and unwashed
embedded into my skin
a part of me.
A part of me
you now ask to part
how could one
give away his own self
come and do erase
those resilient lines
come and take away some
of me and find
some of you in that.
November 19, 2015
editors note: From every encounter, we carry each others’ imprints; impossible to remove. How could, indeed? – mh clay
Youth is Wasted on the Young by Harley White
We heard it said repeatedly,
in adage olden and far-flung,
through springs misspent too heatedly,
that youth is wasted on the young.
Our ‘salad days’ of judgment green
found life a song to still be sung,
a wanton time when slate seemed clean.
Ah, youth is wasted on the young.
If mad pursuits of senseless aims
left us ‘at sea’, burned-out, unstrung,
from revelry in ‘fun and games’,
then youth is wasted on the young.
When ages past maturity
those words oft heard have freshly stung,
we see with blinding surety
that youth is wasted on the young.
Yet, wiser than we were before,
we heed the chimes at midnight rung
and anchor vagaries ashore.
Aye, youth is wasted on the young.
We seek enlightened paths to know
and glory just to dwell among
the blossoms of an inner glow.
Oh, youth is wasted on the young.
And golden years bring different dream,
when passion’s lost her silver tongue,
for lasting peace to reign supreme.
Yes, youth is wasted on the young.
November 18, 2015
editors note: Now’s the turn for youth to write; so far, it’s never yet been told. Turnabout, be sharp, not trite; how age is wasted on the old. – mh clay
Convenient by Tempest Brew
I’m convenient
like a phone by
the bed
like a small man
handing you
toilet tissue when
the roll runs out
and that’s why
this is just not
working well.
November 17, 2015
editors note: The best love is a delightful inconvenience. Keep looking. – mh clay
Birth place by Sam Rapth
The shadow of your swollen words
always falls over my past…
However it is,
why your words bother?…
just because,
they can?…
Trespassing is what you do
unconditionally…
forgiving is what I do
unconditionally…
I now am getting to know
what gives birth to lies…
November 16, 2015
editors note: From one’s desire to manipulate to another’s willingness to believe; who is the bigger fool? – mh clay
stealing from hank moody by Ben Newell
I recently found myself
in
one of those uniquely writerly situations
in which I was introduced
as a writer
to
another writer—
“My condolences,” I said
to the writer.
My condolences…
There you go,
I thought. Stealing from Hank Moody,
slinging his words
as if they were your own.
The writer
didn’t seem to catch
my plagiarism
Or perhaps
she just didn’t want to acknowledge
the allusion
as that would mean
she
like me
watches Californication
when
she should be doing
this.
November 15, 2015
editors note: Condolences all around! Now… where’s the remote? (We welcome Ben to the outrageous ranks of our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay
••• Short Stories •••
Need-a-Read? If you're as addicted to the stacked lines of words like we are, you gotta be gettin' the jones feelin' like we do when we need a read! Well we got just the fix for that!
This week's featured story comes from Gilbert Franco. Here is what Short Story Editor Tyler Malone had to say about "Boundaries": "We are God, all of us. We carry it in ourselves. God is humanity, the only drug you need."
Here's a few lines to get the readin' buzz goin':
It is 7:35 in the afternoon and Kris is sitting in the middle of a row of kids at church. She is sweating and her leg is shaking and her heart is beating fast and the back of her eyes hurt. She is the most awake that she has ever been in her entire life. She has a lot of Ritalin and caffeine in her system.
Kris got the Ritalin from her friend, Julie, who has attention deficit disorder and takes Ritalin once a day as prescribed by her doctor. Ritalin has a reverse effect on people without attention deficit disorder. Julie said that it is often compared to cocaine. She said this because Kris wanted to experience drugs, but didn’t want to smoke marijuana because she didn’t want to cough. Kris is afraid of coughing because she is afraid of gagging because she is afraid of vomiting.
Kris bought three Ritalin 54mg pills. The pills are labeled “extended-release.”
Kris read online that the best way to feel high from extended-release Ritalin pills is to peel the two layers of coating from the actual substance. First the thick, red coating, then the thin, clear coating. Then crush the pill into powder and inhale the powder nasally. Within ten minutes, you will experience a light feeling of numbness in your head. This is normal. This numbness will be followed by gentle shaking of your body. This is normal. Next, your heart rate will increase and you will feel very awake and energetic. This is normal. Ritalin peaks when you feel the surge of energy. After it peaks, you will start to feel distant from yourself and the world around you. This is normal.
Oh yeah, feel this one coursing thru your bloodstream already? (it's OK, this is normal) Get the rest of your read fix on right here!
••• Mad Swirl Merch •••
If you're MAD and you know it, why not wear it loudly and proudly? The whole Mad Swirl of merch begins here, in our new online store! This merch will be available for purchase until November 29th. They come in all sizes for men and woman and a variety of colors. Come get you one... or two, you know, for the mad ones in your swirlin' world!
We here at Mad Swirl have been tossing around the idea of selling all kinds of merch but we aren't sure what the demand would be. We are dippin' our toe in the swirlin' waters with this lil store we set up. If all goes good, we will continue selling our madness and start offering up all kinds of crazy designs!
•••••••
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...
Seein',
Johnny O
Chief Editor
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
Tyler Malone
Short Story Editor
Madelyn Olson
Visual Editor
Comments