Sometimes One Needs A Personal God

Sometimes One Needs A Personal God🧘‍♀️

The atheist soldier or sailor who, drowning,
Calling for mama, God or plain help,
Have mind-sets identical:
Secular, temporal, wholly the same
As the pious and scriptural.

Chemistry is the mysterious base,
Influenced as it is, neither by race
Or intelligence,
Talent or grace.

Character, temperament, circumstance, background,
The mind/brain the same when conditions are right.
The fact is that Truths are the same, day or night.
Only the names are dissimilar.

Faith is a standpoint dependent on hope.
Not piety, dogma, nor doctrinal dope.
Everyone has it in some form or other –
Some more illusion than this that, the other:
Money or status, or -isms or power.

Faith is invisible, chemical, personal.
In some strange way, though irrational, functional.

No one knows why, how it works, but it does.
It pays to have something in which you have trust.
Something to go to when all’s a big bust.
Or just because you can see through life’s illusion,
Which may be the reason you seek something true:
A some thing or one thing to go to because
Life has hinted at laws.
A something or someone that just doesn’t fade.
Sometimes one needs to believe in one God.

Sometimes One Needs A Personal God 4.1.2019 To The Child Mystic II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Circling Round Reality; Arlene Nover Corwin

Oh George, You Were So Right

Once again, sitting in the bathtub cogitating. 🧘‍♀️⏳

    OH, GEORGE, YOU WERE SO RIGHT*

Oh George, you were so right:
“What a pity youth is wasted on the young”-
Their nights, their days a blight of
Vanities and phases strung
On strings assumed will never sunder.
Youth’s generation gets things wrong,
Believing life will never end,
The smooth, smooth skin will never bend
And all the birthday years a pleasure without measure.
George, you found out youth’s a fool
Ruled by their times, tools of fate and character;
Reckless, immature –
Which some discover late. Though clever,
Some few (find out) almost never.

Oh George, You Were So Right 3.28.2019 I Is Always You Is We; Arlene Nover Corwin
*George Bernard Shaw, of course.

You Can’t Have A War Unless…

I was watching a reportage about the strong possibility of a war between Iraq and Kurdistani Kirkuk. I don’t consider myself a political person, neither politically aware nor politically active. But sometimes, I’m moved on a deep level at the futility of and process leading up to war. This is one of those moments. I went directly to the computer.
March 27, 2019 Just ‘found’ this -‘found’ in the broadest sense since it’s been on Facebook all this time. It seemed weaker than it must have felt when I wrote it in 2017. I’ve tinkered and re-written – with hopes that it’s stronger.
You Can’t Have A War🌎😣😪💀💪🏦🔫⚔️⚖️
🛢️
You can’t have a war unless you have weapons;
You can’t have those weapons unless you have industries;
Can’t have an industry earning no money –
And money means profit, for who runs an industry
That doesn’t profit? Profit’s the carrot.

Weapons-to-profit:
The distance is multi- or many small instances
Building the one upon other, passed over
Or turned a blind eye to.

Oil or real estate, access to labor,
Coasts, mines and power,
Their use and abuse
And war is the certainty.

It’s thoroughly sad, this fighting for terra;
A sickening error
Pretending it’s doctrine or canon or righteousness.
Overruled: conscience.

You can’t have a war, you cannot restrain it,
Unless there’s this chain of re-action,
With everyone playing his part.
It’s breaking my heart.
Ain’t it yours?
You Can’t Have A War 10.14.2017 War Book II; Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Corwin

If I Had An Editor

If I had an editor outside my self,
Beside my self, my book –
It well, it might look different;
Prettier, more organised, readable, a better font,
With chapters and a bookmark
Sewn and pliant,
Layout starkly more attractive,
Poems easier to get into,
The Corwin world, no matter how obscure,
Would lure and draw you,
Corwin’s world alluring.

It is hard work to work alone,
Be spurred on by and on one’s own.

One tinkers with the stinkers;
Sometimes poems are crap,
And only when one’s left them,
Coming back, re-read them,
Can one throw away the scrap,
Take out the kernel and begin again.

One might have written one in ‘ninety-one,
Gone back, begun
And finished with finesse two thousand ten.
There’s just no way of telling when.
Creativeness takes time, has no intent
And knows no end.

So, if I had editor:
An agent, marketer – in short,
Someone with faith and energy and zeal,
Belief that Corwin has a keel
Of base stability, validity and beauty,
Then the opus might look individual –
Downright extraordinary.

In humility,
I would guess
This ode/hypothesis
Applies to all and each.
So’s not to preach
I dedicate this bit of fluff
To everyone who writes this stuff.
If I Had An Editor 3.20.2019 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Arlene Nover Corwin

There’ve Always Been

  Sitting up in bed, energy-less with toothache, I suddenly wrote this.  (Well, it took a while). Boy, the mind is a miracle!

    There’ve Always Been…🧘‍♀️

There’ve always been
The laws that govern:
Judaic law that calls it God or G_d.
Laws that can be calculated,
Those that can’t.

Even if law neutron/proton and law God
Is tiny as a pea in pod,
We, a part of all this law
Have aims and goals
Built into an enormous whole
Which seers see and seers saw
And which aim/goal keeps us in awe.

Time: conundrum.
Beginning-ness, one too.
Did God begin, and is He you?
To know the mind of the Divine
Is to keep company with rules,
Existence being its such school.

There are such things as can’t be known.
We have not come from womb full-blown.
Alone and yet we’re not alone.
Yes, yet we feel we’re not alone.

The mystic in his faith says:
“God and I are one!”
A feeling become fact
Which alters act
In motive, word and thought.

Theist or non-theist
All agree that laws come first,
And how you thirst
And what you call it,
Where you go to search for all it
means
Is up to you.

Truth, big T will always be
In every systematic study
Of the sciences, religions and philosophy –
Yet still remain a mystery.

There’s always been
A space, pure energy and matter;
Countless atoms, specks within
All species living in the clatter
Of a being-ness that’s born
And goes, yet comes again.
God or not,
The rules and names are all we’ve got
And these have always been.
There’ve Always Been3.25.2019 To The Child Mystic II; Circling Round Reality; Arlene Nover Corwin

I Like Jazz

The title is self explanatory – except that I’ve expanded its meaning a little.
Love,
Arlene Corwin

   I Like Jazz 🎹🎼🎶

I like jazz, no, love it!
Like to improvise, like changing chords,
Like turning errors to rewards;
Spontaneous and in-the-moment:
In and out.
So gratifying.

I like treating life like jazz;
Mistakes that colour
Brighten up an old worn theme;
Augment esteem
And in some way,
Too mesmerising to portray
In chords or words,
Humbly proffer sweetest curds
Of love.

I’m lucky.
I can play the stuff,
Playing ’round, say, off the cuff.
Where fears are fluff and disappear.
What could be better?

I might show up one day playing
With my nose
Or on my elbows.
Who knows
How far improvising goes?

As my life grows shorter,
As my jazz gets freer
All the waters of my melodies find power
That I never knew were there.

Who knows where these ideas come from?
When they come or how they come,
No end of gushing’s sum,
The hum of thinking factory and factor
A continuum of energy
To enhance my jazz and me.
I Like Jazz 3.23.2019 Vaguely About Music II; The Processes Creative, Thinking, Meditative III; Arlene Nover Corwin

How Do You Define Happiness?

Just thinking…🧘‍♀️

HOW DO YOU DEFINE HAPPINESS?

Is it cheerfulness or merriment?
Exhilaration, ecstasy?
Jubilation, feeling high,
Well-nigh euphoria?
And do you ever think about it?

I myself think it is a quiet;
And a state of non-expecting;
Acting out of one’s own nature
Without stature in our sites.

Restfulness on such a level
That no matter what the action or pursuit
There is well-being free of evil and upheaval,
Not one tendency to cavil.*
Un-bedeviled by claimed rivals:
Made-up or contrived.

Are you happy?
Do you fit the happy pattern?
Or do days feel rotten,
Best forgotten, flat or flattened.

Always worth a word or two
Through verse and to
Each one of you.
Happiness is twice as nice
As un- or not-
And worth the aim
Of talking ‘bout.

How Do You Define Happiness? 3.20.2019 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Circling Round Everything Again; Arlene Nover Corwin
*cavil: make petty or unnecessary objections: complain; grumble; find fault with;

 

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