Internet Down

           Internet Down
My Internet’s been downed
Like copters in the movie
Black Hawk Down. Not really.
A childish melodrama that speaks
Of need and weakness.
The company that charges
For the privilege of barging into planetary life
Has sold itself to one – more rich and more far-reaching.
Dependent wretch,
I’ll have to pay the higher rates. They hold the reins.

There being glitches in the starting up.
This gap a slap in Arlene’s face,
But missing Wikipedia and mail,
I’ve let them nail me.
Waiting for the Flash drive USB
To come, but gosh and golly,
It’s a four-day holiday.
The post has lost more days
(the post is slow in any case).
The therapy?
I’ve had to muse on facelessness and vanity.

A week of absence
From the Web-based
Superhighway cyberspace,
Digitally online
Will be fine –
A rest from showing off the ego;
A real place in real space;
One’s fancied expectations
Where you know deep down
That not one of the bodies out there
Really care,
But you.


Internet Down 6.4.2017
Small Stories; Circling Round Reality; Pure Nakedness; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin

To All The Criminals IN The World


What will you do with all the money that you steal?

Such frivolous ambition, such shallow drive!

To feel alive? A fancy meal?

Believe me there are better things to make life real.

Designer clothes, a fancy house?

Lots of sex to prove that you are more than mouse?

What’s wrong with you?

You’re gonna die. We all just do.

 

What in heaven’s name (or hell)?

Greed just makes you small and smell –

The whole ambition yellow.

 

Gluttony, and hunger, all those drives for more –

Their more is less. They’re glamor-less!

Not to speak of pain you cause:

The drain of pain,

The chain of pain you deign to cause!

What can I say?

You betray what human beings’s meant to be:

Nice, kind, with generosity

Abounding in all thought and deed,

All energy, all conduct and activity.

 

To all the thieves and villains,

All the gangsters, burglars, miscreants,

You’re not the fancy pants you think you are – or aim to be.

So I repeat, believe you me,

It’s all so hare-brained. Wait and see!

You will wake up one day agreeing.

 

To All The Criminals In The World 5.16.2017

A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Nature Of & In Reality; Our Times, Our Culture II;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

 

 

Hypocrisy Confessed

     Hypocrisy Confessed

There are those times

When I enjoy

A murdered leg

Or rib

Or thigh.

I

Call it steak

To make

Myself

Feel comfortable,

The rumblings of the mind assuaged.

Most of the time,

Prime hungry, up to eating like a horse,

I don’t eat cow (of course not horse),

But making food

Not rude or vulgar,

I, non-fake and non-pretender

Eat my beans, my reds and greens

With appetite.

No bright, slight, sprite

I eat my peas,

My eggs and cheese,

My pasta à la Genovese

Well pleased as punch,

Needing no med. rare for lunch.

But then those times…

Oy, oy those times!

Ashamed,

Soul feeling maimed,

Smell of sweet, soy, garlic-y meat

I fall

To ribs [deceitful] call.

Hypocrisy Confessed 4.25.2017

A Sense Of Ridiculous II;

Arlene Corwin

 

A Little Deep Thinking

           A Little Deep Thinking

Some lady wrote as seed of creeds:

“All it needs

is a little deep thinking”.

A little deep… cannot be little.

Deep is deep, and little little.

One or t’other.

 

Deep: profound, complex, discerning;

Weighty downward, inward, sound;

Rapt, absorbed, immersed, committed;

Wise, engaged, perceptive, learnéd;

The opposite of mediocre.

No light joker,

But deep thinker (and non-smoker).

 

Recommended by this poet.

If you really want to know it,

Do not sleep through life and day.

Go deep into the strife or play,

Wakefulness and nightly rest.

Deep will satisfy each, every quest.

Deep is the best of bests of best.

All you need is dee-eep thinking.

 

A Little Deep Thinking 3.27.2017

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

Arlene Corwin

 

Making Waffles In The Living Room

Making Waffles In The Living Room

(a day in the life of an eccentric*)

 

With no one home to say a thing,

She lives out her free spirit.

Not a misfit,

Simply unconventional.

 

She’s making waffles,

But she wants to watch TV –

A favorite program on on Sunday.

Which will take priority?

Must one take priority?

Why not do them simultaneously.

 

She grabs a stool

And drags it to the living room.

Step one.

Carrying the still cold iron

Without fear of burn, she sets it

On the stool and plugs the iron in.

Old appliance it goes on,

No On Off switch therein.

Step two.

Bearing bowl brim-filled with batter,

Setting it on stool where it

fits snugly in and on its step,

Spoon in hand she spoons the batter

Onto iron piping hot;

Shuts the top and starts to wait.

One, two, three and on to plate,

All while watching TV’s favorite!

What subject for a poem!

Happy that there’s no one home

to say a thing.

Fifteen waffles later,

Piled high and fully sated,

Iron back in place

Not a drop or drip to waste

And no one is the wiser.

 

*from the Greek ekkentros, from ‘ek ‘out of’ + kentron ‘center’.

 

Making Waffles In The Living Room 3.19.2017

A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; I Is Always You Is We;

Arlene Corwin

 

A Poem For All The Publishers Who Say “No Poetry”

A Poem For All The Publishers Who Say “No Poetry”

 

I’ve looked it up a million times –

(a little bit of overstatement never hurts)

I think in meter, think in rhyme.

It suits my temperament. Reverts

To chimes of nursery rhymes

Instinctive in us all –

This call to childhood’s guiltlessness.

Yet publishers of good repute

Refute this claim

And to their shame,

Their snobbish, profiteering shame,

Say No to poetry.

 

We should attack!

Abundant in attractiveness are we.

Ever clever, disciplined;

Deep, reflecting all reality:

And yet they say, “NO POETRY,

DO NOT SEND POETRY”.

Refused, rejected

Are we bards dejected?

Never!

We go on forever,

Eager in our hunger.

 

While you publishers go under,

We are there, bad, corny, muted,

Understated and astut-ed;

Couplets, meters, forms abstract,

Highbrow, lowbrow, autodidact:

Rumbling on like thunder.

 

A Poem For All You Publishers Who Say “No Poetry” 12.21.2016

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

Arlene Corwin

Funny Autobiographical Thoughts

In 1966 I burned my bra –

Haven’t worn one since,

Content with what God gave me once;

No plastic boobs, no silly-cone nonsense

Standing up when l lie down –

A thought I find amusing

To be added to when musing;

Funny mem’ries such as these

Will carry on as they occur –

Which they will I’m sure.

Bubbling up unceasingly.

(to be continued in the future).

 

Funny Autobiographic Thoughts 12.4.2016

Pure Nakedness; Circling Round Woman II; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II;

Arlene Corwin

 

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