Just a Taste of the Mad Swirl Poetry Forum

Welcome to the Mad Swirl poetry forum. We have collected poetry from the maddest poets from the maddest corners of the world and have showcased them here in the forum just for you. This page is in flux, living and breathing, evolving and changing constantly...so please come and come often for the latest submissions.

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YOUNG AGAIN

Sweetie, I had a hysterectomy.
I haven't been laid in six years.
Why don't you come over and make
an old woman feel young again?

I can't get pregnant anymore.
But if you still need protection
I have a gun in my drawer, which
I used to murder a lame lover.

But I'm certain I won't have to use
it on you. I have a good feeling
about you. I need to feel young
again. Sweetie, I'm here if you want.

- luis cuauhtemoc berriozabal

Sidewalk Silence

These cracks on the sidewalk
have a tale to be told
from many years ago
back in it's primmest day
when it was freshly laid and paved

so fresh and free of daily debris
that now stuffs it's clefts
so pristine, so untouched, so clean
only the crafters caring touch
laid hands upon skin

but the yellow tape was removed
and the posts were lifted
and so began it's slow deterioration

cold and heat days, snow and sleet days
not to mention the years of tears
that fell from the sky
puddles came and puddles dried

walked upon, used and abused
until finally a thin crack formed
and it's face broke off in places
and it became old and worn
more of an eye sore
then a concrete floor

crushed up butts and angry weeds
now fill in its cavernous seams
and it's wasting away
in unkempt decay

it's story untold
never the chance to say its say
cracked and silent til it's final days

- johnny olson

we wrote a life

we wrote this life
sometimes
from fragments of memory,
like shattered cancers,
susceptibility
to the daily enframing
of nothingness in sky sublime
as death above us,
woofing Eden thus, doggy
days that repeated,
meanings stolid
as this, Picts once lay peat
depicting history as misery
the stumbling structure
erected trembling as love;
and i am cold
gloveless in the boiling snow
that shows us the intermission
mittened like children
and how knows where the warmth goes
it goes where all the time goes
after the gods,
to entropy and absence
where they reflect their proud nonentity,
re-membering me this dismembering
to several singularities
and the drugs that loved us
enough
the junk cold in the gelid blood,
the good ice
and the meaningless meaning of life

- david mclean

Contrast

As I sit here tonight
contemplating
the differences between
life and death
the cold wraps it arms
around me
dissipating what little warmth
was left
into a fantasy

The whitewashed walls
of the church
across from the hall
against this black sky
define my boundaries
in an attempt
to keep me
from going back inside
my warmth reappearing
greeting me with open arms

Cigarette smoke defines this scene
that I have separated myself from
the party continues
the dance goes on
set to the throbbing bass
that is this generation's
heartbeat
reds and greens and blues
our electric artificial
rainbow
illuminating through dirty unwashed windows high above
the vacant lot
outside the hall
filled with the parishioners
who two hours ago sat in the simple church
now a stone-cold tomb
reflecting in the light
of the dance floor
across the way from me
sending a shard of the rainbow
through the stained glass
flashing across the altar
for half a second
now wading in darkness
as if the light was no more
than a temporary and tempting miracle

They had finished
with their solemnities
hours ago
and now dance
as close as they can to each other
drenched in their own
sweat
slowly becoming the sparkle
of the strobe
as parking lot lights
disintegrate into darkness instantly
giving up after so many years
of shining through
the blackness
on their own
for no one
nothing

Shaking the ground
the heartbeat speeds up
as if anxious
to be saved
delivered into the heaven
they had prayed for not so long ago
as the lights flick back on
not dead
just sleeping

And they all dance
not far from their
pledge to the right path
the church
dark and silent now
in awe of the shattering sounds
and flashing lights
that color its white walls in the blackness
the difference between holiness and licentiousness
between happiness and avarice
life and death
and suddenly the human need
for contrast
becomes so apparent
as the horizon too
fades into black

- andrew david king

in the waiting area while my oil is changed

any friendship
without christ
is stifling,

the hook-nosed woman
with a bible in her
lap
says to her
daughter.

god is mind-scramble
for tapioca
brains,
i think
to myself.

marriage too
for that
matter

hell

the mere act
of participating
in this diminishing
farce
on a daily basis
requires
self-lobotomy

and

pulling
the punch
on our murder
impulse day
after day

it becomes
very
clear

any play
short of suicide
is

fixed.

- justin hyde

Deconstructing Pettiness

When they knock you down
And step on you
Say those things that demean
And deflate
Do those things that undermine
Upset your self-confidence
Whack a hole in your sails

You think of them
With skin peeled back
To expose a puny brain
An undersized heart
Yeah, when they're exposed
Their duplicity and arrogance
Will be made plain to all

That's the way it should be
Make them see themselves
Maybe then they'll learn

Yeah
It never works that way
They step on us, from me to you
To higher planes
Near the top
Making their plans
That don't include us
Behind and forgotten

Aw, shit!
This is maudlin
And morose

I see the same thing
In my mirror sometimes

'Til I walk around a bit
In everyone else's shoes
Listen to their stories

Damn!
Even those assholes have their fears

- m. h. clay

Swirlin' Thanks to the Neighborhood Mad Ones of 08.01.07

You know, we had a lot of fun last night. We should get together and do this again...(and a one and a two and a three)

Tomorrow (09.05.07), tomorrow (09.05.07), we'll open the mic tomorrow (09.05.07) with a poem or two.

One!

Two!

Tomorrow (09.05.07), tomorrow (09.05.07), we'll start the night tomorrow (09.05.07) with a swirl for you!

Til then we hope you're feeling mad-happy
Til then we hope your day is swirl-appy

Tomorrow (09.05.07), tomorrow (09.05.07) it soon will be tomorrow (09.05.07) and will be our night.

We like to say thank you to all you mad ones in the neighborhood who came on 08.01.07 and witnessed the madness in this Land-of-Better-Believe...

Johnny O (host)
Lisa Ohhh (co-host)
Cheyenne Gallion
Paul Sexton
Opalina Salas
Carlos Salas
Desmene Statum
Roderick Richardson
Jolee Cloudy
Joey Cloudy
Max Blair
Michael Clay
Mister Natural
Whiskey Jack (Stefan & Jimmy)
John Kelly
Apollo
Poet Echo
Tarnished Penny
Tia
Lyrical I
Crystal
Natasha Sweet
Ben
Christopher
Mac Man
Joshua Gabriel
Efrain

A very special neighborhood thanks to Gerard for setting the longest drum solo ever in Mad Swirl history.

An even more special neighborhood thanks to Absinthe Lounge...owner Kevin, manager Brian and bartenders Carolyn and Kathryn.

We can’t wait until next month... (and a one and a two and a three)

Till then we will say a very happy tomorrow to you and...

We'll be back, when the month is new, and we'll have more Swirl Madness for you, and you'll have words you'll want to share about. We will too.

See you all tomorrow (09.05.07).

Bye now!