The Logic Of The Argument Is Faulty

I saw the word ‘logic’ and it suddenly occurred to me how often the lack of it, this precious tool, is missing from our daily attempts at talking.
 
       The Logic Of The Argument Is Faulty✍️
 
It’s good to be a thinker,
Even using intuition.
But there is a something we call logic –
Truth-filled reasoning and reason.
Never obsolete, archaic.
It, the seat of sense, good sense
And common sense, is hard to find,
For mind is blind.
It frolics superficially
Emotions in the way: ideas and bigotry.
Our arguments are faulty,
Taking all the fun from dialogue.
When it could be a dialogic:
Conversation without passion;
Heart to heart negotiation;
Respect and love as consultation.
Logic absent
Friendship turns to acrimony,
Easily to odium and enmity.
But it’s hard to keep the thread.
Try it sometime when the heat
Of word’s intensity ‘hots’ up,
No longer sweet,
Besotted with itself,
Its self-ish reasoning.
 
Let us learn to earn good thinking.
Sinking ships of thought abide
In politics, egotists,
Ordinary blokes and folk.
Let us never hide
From logical and peaceful talk.
The whole world will be bettered.
 
The Logic Of The Argument Is Faulty 6.18.2018 I Is Always You Is We; Definitely Didactic; Arlene Nover Corwin
 

The Wonder Of The Human Brain

       The Wonder Of The Human Brain: A Learning Tool

 Beneath the hair

I  think it there.

In the genius and moron

A hundred billion neurons

(more likely eighty-six that charges up our many tricks)

Brainstem/spinal cord connected;

Cerebellum which located

In the rear

For balance, schooling that is motor.

Cerebrum fills most of the skull;

Cortex called cerebral –

Sliced in half, a left and right,

Small other parts for thought:

Decisions, mem’ry , learning(s) sought,

Communication and perception:

Stimulation out and in.

(You’d think the parts were wearing thin).

Brain soft, 

A craft 

In white and gray.

Monsieur Poirot was fond of braying

About his  ‘gray cells’ intellect.

(One sees a giant self-respect)

Two percent of body’s mass

With twenty-five the body asks

To keep it thinking, (bod’ as well)

Energized in best of health.

It gathers up what we call knowledge;

It’s a collage in a  college.

Sleep or in activity, we’re using all that energy.

In other words, the brain’s awake all for our sake:

Yours mine, a mine of wonder.

The real wonder is that it

Creates new cells to keep it fit:

A hippocampus we can’t see

For learning and for memory:

Seven hundred cells that grow

Each day that we don’t know about.

We do not feel them, seal them, heal them.

They’re just there – like air. 

And so the brain rains down upon us

Means and answers, thoughts unanswered,

Mysteries inside

And we’re along for this glad ride.

For whose sake and for why?

Some sort of wonder in the sky?

Could be.

The Wonder Of The Human Brain 6.14.2018 Circling Round Science II; Nature Of &In Reality; Definitely Didactic; Arlene Nover Corwin

People Get Tattoos

Given the popularity of tattoos, beards, shaven heads, holes in the body…et al, I’m enclosing this highly relevant observation written first in 2002, revised in 2004 and now again in 2018.
        People Get Tattoos
People get tattoos because
They think that there’s no change,
Because they’re vain, in love:
They think they choose, because
They’ve no idea at all
The rain in Spain lies mainly
In the plain,
That muscle turns
And what was breast or chest and firm,
De-firms, deforms
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 our energies, with time
Outgrowing side- and peepshow
We all worshipped once with gusto.
Oh, tattoo, you are a symbol
Of myopia and youth,
A cockeyed view of truth
That lets us down.
Still, people will demand tattoos,
Refusing all discussion
Until gusto gets to be disgust.
Nothing one can do
Except boo-hoo
This triste refrain to all who’ll listen;
Self abstain , and be a witness.
People Get Tattoos 1.18.2004 revised from 6.17.2002 re-revised 5.22.2018 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II;; Definitely Didactic II; Circling Round Vanities II; Arlene Nover Corwin

What Are We Aiming At?

       What Are We Aiming At?

 What is it one is aiming at?

And what the means?

Is it utopian to think about?

What is involved?

Such questions asked and answered as the road resolves.

Most times the answers overlap – in fact, each step

The coinciding

Of events and chance

So often and so many, they bring unforeseen abundance!

 

Means and goal, a little list:

Clarity, transparency,

Ethics and morality;

Fondness of simplicity,

Liking, warmth and care;

Focus and awareness

Of yourself – your faults and gifts.

The means to sift through both

And tackle, challenge, intercept,

Take responsibility for; respect, accept, correct;

To form belief

And follow through.

It’s hard to let a shape come through you

Like a leitmotif;

A thread that is the real you,

That you were born to find, to be and do.

 

What is it that we’re aiming at?

Guess with boldness:

Happiness and peace, of course,

A course of life that’s conquered stress

Made easy by

The depth inside.

Become its bride.

What Are We Aiming At? 5.9.2018 Revelations Big & Small; Definitely Didactic II; I Is Always You Is We; Arlene Nover Corwin

 

 

 

 

Embedded In The Problem

Good morning!

       Embedded In The Problem

 Rooted in the problem sits an answer

Well inserted by the laws of physics:

Every energy, each action, force

Contains an opposite and equal heart.

Not obvious, because of course

You’re coming face to face with one small seam,

Large though it seems,

With un’s that scream their presence:

“We’re Unanswerable, We are Unsolvable!”

Therefore, the answer, at least at the start,

Is to see the problem as a part

Of opportunity.

That would be smart!

Embedded In The Problem 4.22.2018 Circling Round Reality; Definitely Didactic; Arlene Corwin

 

Sing Your Song All Wrong As Long As It Feels Right

Wrote this this morning after I’d seen a Swedish singing star interviewed with torn, torn jeans talking about how he came to be no longer nervous when performing.

Sing Your Song All Wrong As Long As It Feels Right

 (a prose poem  – meter but no rhyme – well, a little)

 

I used to be invisibly controlled by rules,

Sometimes blamed on pressures peer:

Perhaps I am still, will be ever.

Rules inhibit, yea, dear reader,

Leading art and your behavior.

Double whammy*, inspiration, guide and model

When you would most like to feel

Creative, and spontaneous,

Well pleased, extemporaneous.

 

Subtle, so immensely, so intensely so;

Astonishing how much one swallows,

Soaking up, believing garbage as god’s truths

So hard to scrap;

All those rules coming from the praxis of the earthliest of mouths.

 

What is it sought beyond all else?

It’s freedom, spontaneity,

Belief that what you’re doing

Is its own confession, own possession;

Valid as the others

Always followed and believed the best.

 

Now I’m older.

Times have altered.

Folk appear on television with torn jeans.

Fashions once thought awful – trends.

In the end,

The young will always be impacted by

‘The others’ they think templates,

Patterns, blueprints, guides.

I have seen the light.

Sing your song all wrong as long as it feels right.

 

Sing Your Song All Wrong 4.21.2018 Vaguely About Music II; Our Times, Our Culture II; I Is Always You Is We; Definitely Didactic; Arlene Corwin

whammy |ˈ(h)wamē|

noun ( pl. -mies) informal

an event with a powerful and unpleasant effect; a blow : the third whammy was the degradation of the financial system. See also double whammy .

an evil or unlucky influence : I’ve come to put the whammy on them.

ORIGIN 1940s: from the noun wham + -y 1 ; associated from the 1950s with the comic strip Li’l Abner, in which the hillbilly Evil-Eye Fleagle could “shoot a whammy” (put a curse on somebody) by pointing a finger with one eye open, and a [double whammy] with both eyes open.

You Never Can Tell What Stage You’re At

You Never Can Tell What Stage You’re At

You cannot tell what stage you’re at.
You simply cannot see it.
Oh, you can compare,
Sometimes aware of highs and lows,
The glows in others and yourself,
But deep inside, where knowledge grows
In secret, by accumulation – there
Where flaws are balanced out,
Leaps are made and hurdles cleared
Through secret routes, unknown
To even he who owns the lot –
There, where they’re first set and graded,
Met then faded out –
It’s there to which there’s no access
And it’s of little use to guess
What’s going on, while what is going on goes on. Oh yes,
You think you know yourself;
You see results and where you’ve failed or sailed through:
That’s you alright: partial you;
A hidden, most potential you.
You never know your stage.
But if you’re very good and kind – a little sage,
You get a glimpse of things to come;
Hints that you’ve removed the scum;
A tiny slice no longer slum,
And just enough to keep you crowing,
The best is to keep on going,
Concentrating on a something
You don’t even know is there;
So elusive that you’d swear
It never was, except for books: saints,
Men and women: claimants –
Just like you – who won.

You Never Can Tell What Stage You’re At 3.23.1995/reworked 4.11.2018 Definitely Didactic; Arlene Corwin

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