What’s The Fuss About?


All women have tits;

All men have balls and penises.

All people shit and piss.

What’s the fuss about?

All have it, do it; ARE it: humanit-


Half the world won’t speak of it,

Certainly won’t show it.

Filled with shame, embarrassment & guilt

We tilt at windmills.

What IS the fuss about?

The innocence of nature put to rout,

Replaced by acts against mankind:

Acts of commission and omission

Winding down the clock,

Towards an apoc-


THAT’S what the fuss should be about.


What’s The Fuss About? 3.30.2016

Our Times, Our Culture II; On The Way To The Post;

Arlene Corwin



The Man Who Killed My Brother #1&#2


 Wanna hear a story, all?

The man who killed my brother

Went scot-free. Not exactly. He

Got three years in the cooler, for

Such is the law. 

They found my brother’s blood

On wall and floor.

God knows what more

There was than wall and floor!


The prosecutor told me

That the judge was sympathetic.

Family wrote supporting letters,

Loving letters, caring letters, for

My brother was no orphan.


He was gay.

The family had to pay

A mammoth sum

To have his body come

Back to New York.

They didn’t trust his aids-free health. 

My brother was fit as a fiddle.


After years they found his killer.

All the proof was there, and still,

The trial went in killer’s favor.

He was free in three. 

Detectives, in their stab at comforting

Said, “He’s a bad egg.  He’ll be back.

Inevitably, his kind are…”

So I was left to trust.

One day the killer will be back behind those bars,

His freedom left to rust.

 You have to trust in justice.



Got off with slaughter – slaughtering:

Manslaughter.  One can only

Laugh in irony.

Slaughtering is butchering.

Decimating, wiping out,

Murdering and killing off,


Putting man or Man to death.


Nowhere in the dictionary

Does it warrant or suggest

A measly three year sentence. 


The man who killed my brother

(blood on walls and floor…all over…)

One could call that massacre.

I would call that massacre.

And all he got was three small years.


I thought about it just today

And thought I’d say it. 


The Clocks Have Gone Ahead In Sweden


The clocks have gone ahead in Sweden.

We are already near the pole – the North,

Rotating round and near the sun.

Can you imagine!

Going daily toward a day

That’s almost twenty-four light hours long.

I sit here seven forty-five (that’s almost eight).

It’s light!

Exquisite clouds shine red,

Reflecting sun through underside.

One comprehends, yet doesn’t, since

Just yesterday was darkening. We’d eaten dinner.

Now I’m hungry and I’ve raided the refrigerator.

One small hour means a lot.


For those of you who’ve never been

To Sweden in

The spring when

Clocks go daylight savings time –

For those who only think of polar bears

And Volvo cars,

And Greta Garbo,

Let me tell you, no, inform you,

When the clock goes marching into March

It doesn’t march,

It springs

To breathless beauty.


The Clocks Have Gone Ahead In Sweden 3.27.2016

Swedish Book; Circling Round Nature II;

Arlene Corwin



This Morning’s Terror Deed In Brussels


Folk will always find excuses

To make war.

Always reasons:

Territory, politics, religion –

Anything that they can all a something.

Principle, you see.

Anything to act out evil instincts;

Greed and greediness,

Anger, fear,

Exclusion, exclusivity –

Consequence: explosion, death,


Endless. Yet,

War’s always followed by a peaceful phase.

Builds again from evolution pushing up again and out:




Terror’s error→shock→calm;

A halt, a standstill, then, a cautious movement

Back to normal;

What is normal?

Customs, ritual, tradition.

Temporary all – form, reform,

The whole thing starting over.


Even death.


This Morning’s Terror Deed In Brussels 3.22.2016

War Book II; Our Times, Our Culture II;

Arlene Corwin



Letter To A New Mystic


You can find comfort and confirmation by reading Ramakrishna, Aldous Huxley, Christopher Isherwood, St Theresa of Avila, St John of the Cross, Arlene Corwin…the list of mystics is virtually endless. All have experienced some or all of your, let us call them, deviations, which are in fact, mystical insights.
They can come and go, as yours have. They can manifest themselves as very, very odd behavior. At least at this point you have found out one essential thing: that you are freer than before.

But just as you can never describe the scent of a rose, or the taste of an onion, but are forced to say “You’ll know it when you smell it or taste it ” you can almost never describe the sequence you’ve gone through to most people and expect them to understand. You know that you yourself have hardly understood. It’s sometimes been called ‘divine madness’. You can’t give away truths. They must be experienced personally.

So don’t concern yourself with being understood. Just continue to grow into this new life and little by little you’ll sense what kind of language to use and to whom. (There’s no sense of throwing pearls to pigs). You’re young. Your insights are going to broaden and deepen. And although they may feel complete now, they’ll become more refined. Then you’ll be a real power in this world.

In the meantime, let those who are attracted to you come and let who are not, wander away.
There’s no such thing as ‘accident’, so let what happens happen and see connections. Seeing connections always gives reassurance that nothing is happening by accident – and it’s all in your favor.

March 18, 2016


In Life As Well As The Gym, Do It Badly



You don’t need to train and strain to make your muscles grow. You need to repeat. That’s all. If you do a thing long enough benefit comes of it.

There is no single ‘must do’ exercise that can’t be replaced with something else.   Be clever, be creative, use your noodle. You can find substitute practices that achieve the same result.

You have a bone structure that makes you better suited to some exercises than to others: long arms, short arms, long legs, short legs: Find out who you are and don’t kill yourself trying to put toe up your nose. Look at others, learn from them, be inspired, then do it your way. Take flexibility: there will be borders you’ll never cross.   Learn about them. Accept them. Focus on your own body and its limitations.

Take your time. Don’t rush. Slow is good. Fast makes it more difficult to focus mentally take apart what is happening in your body.

Interestingly enough, there is a gene called COL5A1 which is linked to a hereditary level of flexibility. One version of the gene means you’re quite flexible, the other means you’re not. Don’t be embarrassed or disappointed because you aren’t a spaghetti or, as an older person with less active growth hormone your muscles don’t bulk up as quickly as they did when you were young – or at all.

There is a point at which you’ll stop making obvious improvements; but don’t stop practicing whatever it is you practice. The benefits become more subtle, more refined.  More energy, stability, self-knowledge. It’s quite enough to stretch what’s tight and strengthen what’s weak and notice that your powers of observation are greater than they were. Nothing stays the same. You’re either going up or you’re going down. Even when you don’t notice either.

Resistance is a good training. Good to observe, good to exploit. For example, when doing yoga poses, reach the point of resistance and wait it out, staying as long as you can. Use resistance in your daily life too. Push against tables, your knees, the door frame. There are dozens of ways to be creative using the principle of resistance.

One more thing: if you work hard all of the time, you’ll start to notice little aches, pains and tears everywhere. Be sensitive. Pace yourself. Learn when to push and when to let go – in life as well as in the gym.

Your body isn’t a machine. Rest it. Work hard but don’t kill yourself.

Anything worth doing is worth doing badly.


A Simple (Minded) Show-Off


I’m so simple;

Sharing part of all its sixty-seven synonyms.

I like to rhyme.

Not only that,

But like the rhymes to show!

I must be vain also.

Nothing subtle – ends of lines

Designed to look good. Viz,

When –ink, can stick out,

Flouting laws of taste,

Economy and waste,

Distinct and glaringly conspicuous,

I’m pleased, contented, satisfied

And gratified.


I’m such a show off –

Maybe superfic-ee-ell,

As well.

Too lazy to be bothered,

Take the trouble to research

And learn the art of ‘real’ writing –

Like the big guys do.

(Oh, dear, what rhymes with do,

Or writing, learn, or bothered?

Screw it! It’s exciting just to churn and slither

Round, and under

Thought and wonder,

Showing off each lime of rhyme…

Each line of rhyne?

(That’s dreadful.


AND pathetic!

I give up.)


A Simple (Minded) Showoff 3.17.2016

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

Arlene Corwin




Self-Published And Proud: Support, Criticism, Indifference


What was a vanity,

A no-no, self-indulgent,

Now a cause for those whose poetry

Needs simply to come out, lived in,

In ways it never could: no coterie

Of dilettantes the following,

Awaiting compliments from Woolf and company.


Sometimes for family –

Handy, cheap, available;

Purchasing ten copies.


Sometimes for sale,

Remuneration goal,

Originating mostly

Unalloyed by money,

Where identity is bared

To teach, to share in fantasy, its intimacy.


No longer out of reach,

The times are good for the creative batch [of]


Who need to paint the whole

Darned world with syllable.


Self-Published [And] Proud 3.13.2016

The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Our Times, Our Culture II;

Arlene Corwin


Mediocre People Are Always At Their Best (from a NYC Toilet wall)


Talented, admired, famous, smart-attired,

Earning well;

In politics, the clergy, teaching, university

Professors, film directors:

Whew, it sounds as if they guide the masses.

Intellectual jackasses leading, bleeding us, that’s all!

I am not cynical.  It’s just

That I have learned to trust the prayer

That I can get to someplace higher

Than the plane I stand on here.

High among my fears, I fear self-satisfaction,

Where, in intellectual molasses

I’m convinced I’m something great.

When I doubt myself, that’s best,

Standards taking time to ripen;

Values forming, shifting, changing.


If discomfort is a test

And one’s content to never rest,

Mediocrity can be a phase short-lived.

Discontentment seems to me

The exit sign, and mediocrity

No absolute.

There’s hope, I hope.


So while my eyes are taking note

Of how the world is shaping up,

In the hope that from what’s been

Will rise a better thing –

If mediocre people really always are their best,

I have to wrest my case from all that is,

And go on living.


Mediocre People Are Always At Their Best 12.2.1998/revised for the 3rd time3.10.2016

Our Times, Our Culture II; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Nature of & In Reality; Revelations Big & Small;

Arlene Corwin



Act As If

         Act As If

Act as if your love

Has gone,

As if you live


And have to sort out bills

And fix the house,

Buy food,

Keep beauty ordered

Giving cat and bird

The care they’re used to,

Keeping fire, chopping wood…

Think it through

As though

You are the sole support –

(Not counting God and thought.)

A revelation in itself.

All its own,

You alone -to do alone

What two could do before.


Act As If 3.8.2016 (revised from 3.29.2012)

Love Relationships II; Circling Round Reality;

Arlene Corwin




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