The Mental Institutions Of The Mind

This is a sample from my new book A Sense Of The Ridiculous (XLibris)

Walls we can split at a stroke.

We don’t. I don’t. You don’t.

Walls of attitudes and limitations

We go round inside their frame,

Using up a precious time.

All at once we say it isn’t fun this way –

In fact, it’s downright suffering.

“So, to hell with what I lost,

My ignorance, the mangled cost;

My big mistakes and jangled sleep,

Nights counting sheep;”

The replicas of outlived choices.

There’s big N Now, – memories and voices

From a new Now-know,

While past is working out and through,

Loss is just a thing to learn by,

Not to cry

For, everything acquired/lost

Is tossed into the pot of change.

Gone is gone

And holding on to “gone”s inane.

To not reflect on what we gain

Is to reject the medicine.

 

The Mental Institution Of The Mind 11.21.2002 (revised 6.27.2015)

A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Nature Of & In Reality; Definitely Didactic;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

One Or Two Bangs 2002

A Couple Of Bangs

 

I was standing on my head and thinking:

One or two bangs

And the knowledge could go;

Just when I’m learning

To use my computer!

One or two bangs

And we’re scraping for scrap,

Riding on horses

(If any are left),

Charting new courses,

Bereft

Of a map,

Lighting and warming with flame sparked by flint,

Barter our mint,

Clothes made of lint.

Two generations, the knowledge could fade,

Memories turning to legend and shadow.

Just when I’m learning to turn on the Net!

I haven’t begun to discover things yet.

Damn!

A couple of bangs, a volcano that’s spewed

And the whole thing is screwed:

E-mail, airplane, trip to the stars –

(If not to the stars, then to Venus or Mars).

I was just getting used to the silicon chip,

Miniaturized lightness, plasticized hip;

All this could go with a couple of bangs,

A forty day rain

On a main plain in Spain.

God, don’t give up on us,

Rescue us,

For we’re too few bangs away.

 

A Couple Of Bangs 10.18.2002

Our Times, Our Culture; God Book;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

 

Winter Surprised Us 2002

Winter Surprised Us

 

Winter surprised us this mild October.

Just when I’d praised an October so sober.

Eighteenth October and snow started lightly,

Thinly – but whitely.  By night we

Were covered when you’d just predicted

No winter at all,

A long, long, long fall –

And lo, winter beauty!

A plow does its duty.

Trees haven’t even shed all of their leaves

Which, snow-driven leaf,

Will freeze green in form.

Mean or indifferent: a deviant norm.

October’s too soon, too darned premature;

Caricature of what winter should be,

When and how.  As for me,

I’ll just put on one more layer, more heat;

Eat more meat:

All that adapts.

I’ll vocalize more,

Use store of potential in and around;

Hope that it’s not one more sign of abuse,

Product of industry’s chilling excuse.

Snow in October astounds and confounds.

Snow in October feels downright perverse,

But sooner than later one’s forced not to curse,

But sign truce with the pines and the firs and the spruce.

The end of confusion is peace.

 

Winter Surprised Us 10.19.2002

Circling Round Nature; Our Times, Our Culture;

Arlene Corwin

People Get Tattoos

People Get Tattoos

People get tattoos

Because

They think that there’s no change,

Because they’re vain, in love…you name it.

Choose

Because they’ve no idea

That what was butt or breast or chest

Firm-formed, de-forms

With ‘budding bicep rose’ becoming

Wrinkled, wilted posy -of-the-elbows.

I suppose it’s all to do with time

And how we throw away prime

Energies, the side- and peepshow

We once worshipped with a gusto.

Worn and old.

Tattoo, you are a symbol

Of myopia and youth,

Cockeyed view of truth that lets us down.

Still, there always will be those

Who need tattoos – jewelry indelible,

Refusing reason until gusto is disgust.

There’s nothing one can say or do

Except re-sing this blemished tune

For anyone who’ll listen:

Just be witness and abstain.

People Get Tattoos 7.20.2002 /1.18.2004

A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Definitely Didactic; Time;

Circling Round Vanities; Circling Round Wrinkles;

Arlene Corwin

To The Doctor Who Examines Me 2002 2004

                                        To The Doctor Who Examines Me

 

I was thinking that this body is a unit and,

If you don’t see a pattern

In the portions that go wrong,

Then perhaps you’re sitting in a chair

To which you don’t belong:

Too tired, young, or not attentive.

How I wish you’d see the symptoms

As an ocean bowl,

With rivulets connecting whole

To dams and sluices where the juices,

Pebbles, stones are formed within, all kin

To one another.

It is obvious that pain or pressure

Down a leg has a connection to the hip,

The pelvis, stomach, large intestine – let’s not skip

The knuckle bumps, hard private lumps

With their connection to the rest:

Cholesterol and stressed out parts

In hearts not happy pumping.

Always working to your best,

To fix a system that will not dissect –

One hard to see: a one-in-many,

And God knows, one hard to diagnose.

Yet it’s your job to cure,

Find sense, be sure –

Which can’t be done

Unless you see the parts-in-one

Which, failing to do

Means you’re still too

Young and blind,

Or just not paying mind

Enough attention.

 

To The Doctor Who Examines Me 6.30.2002  (revised 9.18.2004)

Birth, Death & In Between; Circling Round Nature; Definitely Didactic;

Arlene Corwin 

More Examination Observation 2002 2004

         More Examination Observation

Sixty eight and something’s new:

Breasts are lower – larger too.

The bad, the good -as usual.

Relatively new, I need new time

To melt into a new quiescence,

Seeing beauty in two breasts

That used to stand and stick right out.

Time to see them not as symbol

When I thought them much too small,

Not as symptom,

But as guests whose fall

Gives rise to modesty,

An I-less anonymity:

A mild, non-thought, non-value thing –

But valued as an old dear Ming,

An autumned spring, a non-inviting flavoring

Enduring, non-alluring, lowering:

Time for giving in.

K. can always see the bright side.

I see death come closer;

Chains and series; night ride

To a darker place.

I’ve got no choice.

(It could be worse.)

It’s time to go from strength to strengths,

From self-display to coming-out

To celebrate an ageing part;

Leave behind the body doubt

And gadding ‘bout

And preening what was only wart

To an arlene-ing of the heart,

The voice and head

Instead.

© More Examination, Observation 02.8.7 (revised04.9.20)

Circling Round Nature; Circling Round Woman; Nature In & Of Reality;

Birth, Death & In Between; I Is Always You Is We; Pure Nakedness; Time;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

 

Sixty eight and something’s new:

Breasts are lower – larger too.

The bad, the good -as usual.

Relatively new, I need new time

To melt into a new quiescence,

Seeing beauty in two breasts

That used to stand and stick right out.

Time to see them not as symbol

When I thought them much too small,

Not as symptom,

But as guests whose fall

Gives rise to modesty,

An I-less anonymity:

A mild, non-thought, non-value thing –

But valued as an old dear Ming,

An autumned spring, a non-inviting flavoring

Enduring, non-alluring, lowering:

Time for giving in.

K. can always see the bright side.

I see death come closer;

Chains and series; night ride

To a darker place.

I’ve got no choice.

(It could be worse.)

It’s time to go from strength to strengths,

From self-display to coming-out

To celebrate an ageing part;

Leave behind the body doubt

And gadding ‘bout

And preening what was only wart

To an arlene-ing of the heart,

The voice and head

Instead.

Midsummer Party #1 #2 2002 2004

              Midsummer Party #1
 
June seventeenth: approaching

Mid-, the height, the longest, light,

A day which, catching hold

Of loss and cold,

Is time that never can recur –

Day never coming back;

A sun that stays up all the night

And on till dawn

With eating, drinking, friends, the pack

Carousing light-night long

To joke and celebrate the wait-for-what:

A curtain that for certain

Falls or opens summer’s tent.

             Midsummer Party #2

June seventeenth:

Approaching mid; the height;

The longest, lightest day.

And I am hit,

Encompassed by a hint

Of loss,

The tint of cold,

Of one more year;

Of age foretold,

And days one never can get back:

Time that cannot return.

June seventeenth: the main concern:

Eating, drinking, friends, the pack

Of relatives; to celebrate

And stay up late.

And here I sit up with the solstice:

Life in death’s becoming.

Flirting and forgetting laws:

High; low; the effects of cause.

Midsummer party:

Curtain waiting for a fall;

We, not thinking that we’re running out of funny hats,

Unending years and festivals.

© Midsummer Party original 02.6.17/ recomposed04.1.21Circling Round Nature; Birth, Death & In Between; Time; Nature In & Of Reality;  Arlene Corwin

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