Esoteric Truth

Esoteric Truth

 

Imagine that your relatives

Have vanished in an earthquake,

Tidal wave.  Lost lives.

You are.  You’re left to shake.

What can you say to save you?

“Well, it’s You and me kid – You and me”?

As far as I can see, it should be

What you’re saying anyway

Throughout the day:

The I/ Thou thing;

Only You and me, kid – You and me.

 

Esoteric Truth 11.26.2012 (found on a scrap written ?)

To The Child Mystic II;

Arlene Corwin

What Sense Of Order 2012

What Sense Of Order?

 

My sense of order is,

To say the least,

Outside the ordinary.

Organized peculiarly onto itself.

It is, however

Order

Craving effort, for

It runs, hops skips,

Connections vague as cirrus;

Crystal ice,

Fixed as geometry,

Result not cloud or chaos,

Not free verse that’s free, but bursting

Out of fragments freed

Then unified.

 

My sense of order is not cute,

Not in the Webster sense of cute,

Roots in the gene, route evergreen;

Unseen, it is productive.

Having shaped this poem, its meter

And its content, all while organizing

Books and/or clean sheets

of paper.

 

Ordained, it seems by outer space,

Orchestrated out of orbit,

As orgasmic as organic,

Organza at its sheerest,

I lie here a-writing,

As amazed as you

At what this mind can do.

 

What Sense Of Order?  4.2.2011(found 11.26.2012)

A Sense Of The Ridiculous; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative;

Arlene Corwin

 

All Species, Every One 2012

All Species, Every One

 

All species, every one;

Feeding, playing, sickening:

All wanting to survive

Though stricken, weakened,

Fighting not to dive

Into the depths of death

Where synonym and adjective

Lack strength enough

To clarify;

Energy that was divisible,

Invisible,

Unknowable, defied

And disappeared;

To leave a motionless, decaying form

From ant to elephant: small to gigantic.

Then there’s me, the un-romantic

Unaccepting critic.

 

All Species, Every One 11.17.2012

Birth, Death &In Between II; Nature Of & In Reality;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

 

Following The Light With Laptops 2012

Following The Light with Laptops

 

Morning:

I carry the computer down the stair

Where

Morning light is with the sun.

I seek the opposite of dark, a zone

Of something I cannot define.

Noon:

Another room.

Before, I saw the lake outside,

Now it’s the trees.

The sun is hiding as

I hit the keys.

Something bright comes out,

Thanks to the light.

 

Now it’s night.

I definitely

Need to find another space

On which to place the laptop,

Tabletop my closest hope.

Nope.

On my knee

I watch TV.

(It’s not that I am on my knee,

But you, my white computer

Are)

Anyway, I multi-task.

Don’t ask about the quality.

I’ve fetched a plate of soup.

I’ve put the laptop next to me,

Editing and looking at a mystery

(I love them too)

Having written, edited and checked the mail,

Googled stars I find enthralling –

God I’m superficial.

Yet I must confess,

It is

A satisfying (out of meter) life

After all.

 

Following The Light With The Laptop 10.11.2012

Circling Round Computers;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

 

Seventy & Eight 2012

Seventy And Eight

 

Seventy and eight:

You’ve definitely

Set aside some vanity.

What is it but priority?

And some priorities have changed.

It’s called acceptance.

Skin that’s re-arranged itself

Without permission.

When you’re nearing birthdays

Each and every

Twelvth damned month,

You shun

The cant if you’re observant.

This has that… and that’s a pain,

Marriages have come and gone,

You’ve eaten everything on offer.

Gone the need to entertain

The suffering’s more neutralized;

So many friends and kin have died.

You’ve channeled drives

That used to thrive on pleasure.

With a birthday coming up

You’re going down each second’s unit

So immeasurably tiny you can’t count it.

Here is where it gets didactic:

Birthdays coning up – don’t hope but have it.

As for vanity, retract it.

That’s it.

 

Seventy & Eight 10.28.2012

Birthday Book; Circling Round Vanities II; Birth, Death & InBetween II;

Arlene Corwin

Turning Male 2012

Turning Male

 

This body’s turning male.

It wants to change its gender.

Hormones having failed it,

A moustache grows, is tweezed away,

Vacations for awhile,

The fertile, fecund follicles that mumble

Under skin and pore

Vital, waiting, joining forces

Then emerging.

 

Who can purge

This test of destiny;

This hormone norm-become-a whore worn

Allowing one last trace of womanhood

To makes demands and get its way.

The shadowed over-lip not every

Woman’s fantasy.

 

Though nose hair pros say

Nose hairs have protective power.

Piffle poppycock!  Each hour they flower,

Blackening the furrows

Meant for air.

The germs?  Who cares?

Breathing freely’s

Less important than one’s beauty.

(Well, my friends, it used to be.)

 

If I’m incapable of loving it,

I’ll simply rise above it and just tweeze

Away this sense of the ridiculous.

Tolerating both the newness and the process.

 

 

Turning Male 11.3.2012

Circling Round Vanities II; Nature Of & In Reality; Circling Round Nature;

A Sense Of The Ridiculous;

Arlene Corwin

Biographies In Verse (con’t from Streams Of Consciousness) 2012

Biographies In Verse (continued from Streams Of Consciousness)

 

What a way to hide, yet yell

About your well of life inside a meter;

Details you might choose to lose,

Conceal under bedclothes:

Particulars essential to your memory.

Neckerchief presented by

A grateful student,

Compliment appreciated,

Given by

A lover long, long years ago;

Facts repressed, ashamed

Or guilty of that used to be a truth,

Belonged to youth –

Almost forgotten –

Gone

Or

Compensated for.

Along comes rhyme

To bring the time out into daylight,

Clarified and universalized;

Coded accolade

In verse.

 

Biographies In Verse 11.13.2012 (con’t from Streams Of Consciousness)

Pure Nakedness;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

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