I Like Facebook

Sitting in the bath once again, small blue pad in hand, bit of plastic as support, I write this poem.   Albert Cat demands a bit of attention and pad slides into the water.  I grab a bit of toilet paper to blot it.  That makes it worse.  So, blurred and vague, I reconstruct it, using magnifying glasses (2!) while watching the evening news.  Here it is:

             I Like Facebook

I like Facebook. I don’t know exactly why.

I like looking at the pictures,

Friends I’d never meet another way.

I like friendly messages,

Passages of verse I’d never read

If not for Facebook’s lead.

I like Likes and Comments kind,

Find in comments rich expressions.

Possibly I’m one of few – or few new millions.

I’m inspired when tired, fired up.

Even when I’ve written ‘crap’

No one’s there to trap me.

Some reviewer always sees my views,

Understands.

Someone always sends

Me praise; ends with a Like.

I’ve never had a spikey word;

Cordiality is all I’ve ever read or heard.

Commonality forever somewhere, there

Where someone wants to start a group.

Always somebody to whoop de whoop:

Somewhere folk who populate;

A troupe with common passions.

Then there are the monthly Happys:

Happy Birthdays, Christmases and Easters…

Never had one word rescinded.

Reminded gently daily:

Classmates, playmates

I’d forgotten, dovetailed,

Blazoned on the psyche;

Friends and places,

And of course, the faces –

It is Facebook, after all; the key, the glee,

A source of history.

As for weaknesses I’ve read about –

Never think to route them out,

Going ‘bout my business,

Focused on creativeness,

The lofty and the small.

I like Facebook.

Happy Facebook to you all!

I Like Facebook 3.31.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Corwin

 

 

  

Can It Be?

             Can It Be?

Can it be that we

No longer have to worry,

Be concerned about IQ and such,

It not much longer meaning much

When something’s to be learned?

 

Can it be we do not need those centers

To adapt and enter

Higher states,

Taking in non-useful crates

Of knowledge and/or information.

 

Wouldn’t that be lovely…

Days that don’t demand the shove

Of knowledge from an app

To make you happy?

 

Synapse, axon, neuron:

Hordes of intricate connections

Just to reach a level new;

Some new standard, some new status

You consider you.

 

Well, it seems that they’ve discovered

What you probably knew all the time:

You only need a darned few dendrites,

Through the days and nights

Of facts and figures all around;

Surrounding signals chemical/electric

To slow down the darned runaround.

Can it be that life that thrives

Is simpler than our brains surmise

From all the data thrown at us?

 

Maybe just a little meditation

And the silencing of motion

In the ocean of illusion

And the feeding of a news that’s false –

What we’re really needing,

The concoction and the potion

Has been right before our noses

All the time.

Can It Be? 3.29.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Revelations Big & Small; Arlene Corwin

Finding Your Rhythm

         Finding Your Rhythm

 Your rhythm can have heat,

It can have speed.

Depending upon what you need

In the moment’s feat,

It’s very heartbeat.

 

Whatsoever gives you power,

Your bio-clock

May rock

That hour.

 

Power by the minutes is what counts.

It mounts by seconds as you play.

It plays,

And you should let it play

Since rhythm’s power never stays,

Permutating with each pulse.

 

Respect it, for it’s no one else –

The simplest sample of the minute’s you,

All you are and all you do,

Adapting, altering, amending,

Reconstructing and evolving

As you solve new pages,

Entering and leaving stages.

 

When I play or sing

Finding tempo’s rhythmic swing

Is key; door’s opening

To fundamentals: moving, sitting, cooking, eating…

Finding beat the core and more.

 

At the bottom your rhythm

Lies a measure of your pleasure,

An intrinsic part of it;

Pleasure in the heart of it.

 Finding Your Rhythm 3.28.2018 Vaguely About Music II; Circling Round Energy, Nature Of & In Reality; Arlene Corwin

 

 

I Am Guilty Of All My Failures

       I Am Guilty Of All My Failures

 I take the blame for all I’ve done;

Own up to all those failures mine;

Failures from:

Naivetể and laziness,

Unworldliness

An focus-less

 

Yet I’ve managed to fulfill

Some crude achievements,

Accomplishing on intuition:

Not a bad guide, nor a good one.

All sits in the readiness;

Instinct in the readiness,

Prowess in the readiness.

 

Even if there’d been instruction

I’d have had to wait it out

Until my twenties – eight or seven

When the background synthesized

Into a foreground wise.

 

Inborn, unshorn weaknesses

That held one back,

In untold ways,

 

I could say, “Screw it!”

Or complete the work

To fight off other frailties;

Develop and maintain

A lively strain

Of concentrative energies,

So that my foibles will be few-er.

Mea culpa! Mea culpa!

I say, “Do it!”

 I Am Guilty Of All My Failures 3.27.2018 Circling Round Egos; Circling Round Energies; I Is Always You Is We;

 

God The Father, Mother Nature

     This was such a difficult subject to tackle – in verse no less.  Yet, I found myself compelled.  The two phrases haunted me during the night, and I found myself examining their meaning and connection, and was surprised when I could think it through, although I’m sure somebody or -bodies could express it more conclusively.

As usual, I only send this to those i think are interested, either vaguely or directly in the issue involved.  Maybe I include too many of the wrong people and omit too many of the right ones.  

 

          God the Father, Mother Nature

 

Why Father, why Mother?

Taking noun, using it here,

What does a father/mother stand for?

What the function?  Where the junction?

Taking ‘ God,’ accepting word,

Where is it?

Is it unit?

Properties and features infinite?

If it’s It, it must have place

In and out somewhere in space,

A thing not unlike our sweet sun,

Which sun affects each/ everyone.

You all know what I mean. 

 

Its qualities and energies

Would have to take in all the –ities

Positive and negative,

Comings into being, dyings.

That’s only a few, of course.

Phew! (of course)

For ‘fathering’ means many things

Inherent and inheriting.

A kind of spermatozoa entering

The thing called Nature’s mothering.

 

Father sits there quietly,

Mother gives the birth to many,

Manifold variety. 

Think: the sun – the best analogy;

Which doesn’t move, which stays in place,

Yet all its sunny rays embracing.

God the Father, Nature Mother;

Yang and Yin,

Each beginning, each a finish

Each existing as a well spring.

 

Oh, this question, dearest reader,

God the leader, Earth the breeder,

Unsolvable, un-provable,

Bound in faith but usable.

I’ll be back when I’ve thought further .

God as Father, Mother Nature.

 

Friends of mine deny it all;

Conscious energy so small

Yet all-encompassing.

(It can’t be large, for logically,

It is, by definition, fixed – eternally,

Changeless, absolute, an all-in-one,

And to be large it’d have to’ve grown,

And growing is a no-no for a non-

Dependent,

Ultimate and only real

Universal.

 

God The Father, Mother Nature 3.24.2018 God Book II; Nature Of & In Reality; Arlene Corwin

                      

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Little Essay Called Start-A-Poem

I think I’ll make my next, next book this kind of thing, and call it From Poetry To Essay.  I’ve got so much damned stuff collected over the years.  I may as well use collate it and use it.  It/they about all kinds of ‘stuff’, i.e. bits and pieces of themes and ideas.   It’s a good way to get rid of it.

                                          A Little Essay called Start–A-Poem

 When I start a poem there is no thought of acceptance, spreading or sharing. The writing, motive pure, there is a kind of reverence for what is going on in the mind at the moment.  Only the creation process matters.

 The process set in motion, impossible to resist, I take up any paper scrap on hand:  backs of envelopes, the blank margins on receipts and ads.  I’ve even written on tissue paper.  Thankfully there is usually a pad and writing implement somewhere near, even an open computer.  And so it starts.  The writing, the thinking, long pauses, hesitations, corrections, thesauruses, dictionaries – each leading to contemplation, deeper layers, broader possibilities.  Every sensory impulse outside myself fodder.

 There grows enormous discipline sometimes called compulsion.  I can’t get up.  I can be in the most uncomfortable position and there I stay.  It’s irrational. At the moment of finishing I’m thinking this poem is the ‘cat’s pajamas’ and the next urge sneaks in: to have it read by someone, preferably some ones.   Thank God for the Internet.

 In the beginning, thanks to my computer literate daughter, it was establishing a poetry site.  Long after, the discovery of other poetry sites, online magazines…  Feedback, comments – wonderful.  A world out there that reads, thinks, likes, criticizes, 

 I’m there still; time consuming admittedly, but stimulating, producing an abstract, invisible condition of gratitude.  Part of the world now, giving, taking, I’m hooked.

March 20, 2018

 

 

 

 

Bad Thoughts

         Bad Thoughts

 Bad thoughts in youth:

Energy, gifts given, offered,

Why we suffered…

We knew nothing.

It just was.

‘…wasted on the young’, said Shaw.

This truth endures:

Energies were boundless.

Such a plus and it was us.

But minuses with M, big M,

They were the dross,

The rubbishy behavior of those days

When we paid no mind to the affluence,

All assets.

We were young, un-formed.

But now, formed, social-normed,

What have we for excuse?

Those days diffuse,

We leave those days all honeycombed.

Now we know.

Bad thoughts have nil excuse;

Crave discipline to loosen.

Self-destructive in their essence,

Nuisance to the mind.

Trust this writer: make you blind.

Know thyself, said Socrates.

The phrase that follows – obvious.

Be kind!

You cannot lose.

 Bad Thoughts 3.20.2018 I Is Always You Is We, Circling Round Egos; Circling Round Energy; Definitely Didactic, Arlene Corwin

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