Paradise Lost (Can’t Let It Go)😔🌈

Can’t let it go – not yet –

When bodies burnt

Are yet to be detected.

I, infected

By the sweat, the heat, 

The still existent rainless threat. 

 

Might that not be metaphor

For Milton’s fall of man?*

A stopgap setback: temporary,

Conflagration momentary:

Decrease following expansion. 

 

A balloon 

Must always pop

Out in and on itself,

It is the law; 

Fast or slow

(for things take time),

Regrowth following again.

A cycle starting,

Cycles that can never end,

The winds of time determining…

 

Since you and I live only now

(as far as we, the planetary

                   Lilliputians know)

It’s always now for us to care for;

Never certain of the future.

 

Most of us avoid the four pronged syllable;

Spi-rit-u-al.

Maybe time has shown up

To take them on our lips,

The ‘ups’

Beginning to be ‘downs’.

 

I don’t mean to make literal demands on the reader, but Paradis Lost was an epic poem by John Milton published in 1667.  It is a metaphor for the fall and rise/ again of man. (See Google)

Paradise Lost 11.14.2018 Nature Of & In Reality; Out Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Born Without The Empathy Gene

Born Without The Empathy Gene😔
 
Forests, buildings in all forms,
Serving every kind of need;
Pets and animals on farms,
Insects, birds of every breed,
Large four-legged wild things
Who can but walk and jump and spring:
Gone!
In heated breathing pain!
 
Then there’s one I shall not name
Who blames the what…. the very victim!
Too inadequate to chat about.
Too awful when the world’s in shock.
Impossible to justify but not take stock of:
A commander of the hour and all that,
Condemning policies
Intended to save ALL that breathes.
Impossible to comprehend
That one who, closeup, sees an end
Can send out messages of blame…
 
If there’s a gene for empathy’s ability
To share the feelings of another;
Feelings of and for misfortunes
Other than beloved mother,
Then the pathos em- and sym-pathy seem absent
In a president
Of of such a land that needs no mention,
The intention not to put a voodoo
On you probably know who.
 
For I, a mini- no one
Filled with an em- and sym-
Down to my colon
Cry with all the torment and affliction,
Trauma and despair of all the beings there
Where nothing can be done.
Last urgent line:
Pray for everyone!.🧘‍♀️
 
Born Without The Empathy Gene 11.11.2018 Out Times, Our Culture II; Circling Round Nature II; Arlene Nover Corwin
 
 

The Love Of Money

               The Love Of Money💰🎡

It ain’t the money, cash, the dough,

The ‘bread, the loot, the moolah’: wealth:

It is the love that is so

Dangerous to soul and self;

The pelf* just paper.

 

Not the need, but greed disguised

That fools the wise;

The craving, not the saving

That creates indifference,

Binds to blindness 

Of what all the senses see:

Greed is inferiority:

Mark of one’s mediocrity.

 

The intellect knows “It’s only money!”

Yet one gets addicted to the honey

Of its power, 

Voted the man of the hour’.

 

It’s love of money sours health.

To hell with wealth!

The simple is, by far the best,

Arrests the pest*.

Money’s benefits can’t buy it.

Try it!

It’s a discipline

That wins –

Love of money is the sin;

Love’ that cannot ever win, 

Will never win.

 

Let you, me, us begin

To lose this affectation 

Bowing, cowing down to Mammon.

Starting now.

*pelf; money

*pest; plague

The Love Of Money 10.18.2018 Nature In & Of Reality; Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Once More I Watch

          Once More I Watch

Once more I watch TV’s voodoo;

Local politics, the global too.

All so limited and self-directed,

Motivated by short-sighted

Vested self-interested interests.

 

I predict that nature will 

Take over, leaving all

Those interests in the dust.

Nature will insist

That we desist,

Apportion power,

Share the food, BECOME the grower, 

Raking in the profit on the lowest rung,

Survival being last song sung.

 

Yin and yang can never cease,

The negative is on the increase.

It’s all a happening, a phase,

An episode in time

Which we cannot erase.

 

So there it stands

And there we stand,

A wispy strand, a filament

And not the centre of all things.

 

The rings of time demand

That local silliness in politics

Cease and desist.  The local ticks

That irritate, cause endless unsolved

Situations neutralize. 

Before it’s all about our small demise

And nothing else.

Once More I Watch 10.14.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Circling Round Reality; Arlene Nover Corwin

Storm Michael: One More Symbolic Sign

Easier to read than the first:
 
Storm Michael: One More Symbolic Sign🤔✍️🏝️🌋♨️
 
🌊
Worsening fires,
More dire censures
From poor mother Nature;
Storm winds and torrents
Since last tempest Florence
Hit North Carolinas;
Coastlines more flooded,
And still those who doubt it,
Like President Trump,
Dumping the evidence,
Still in denial.
Shunning the evidence…
What about Pence?
The climate thing vile.
 
Yesterday’s hurricanes,
Quickening winds and the rains with no drains…
Roofs blown off, trees blown down;
All of it happening all over town,
And all of it shown on TV.
 
We are living in times without equal.
With sequel statistical flooding next door.
Storms know no borders,
And people are urged to be hoarders –
For crises like this are but chains,
And the rains have no enemies.
(maybe the sun – but that’s only one,
And nature’s not done with us –
That is for sure.
 
I’d bet my Schwinn bike
That Michael is far
From ‘taking a hike’
And happy to hear
That there’s not been one like it
Since records began.
 
This entire ramble
Is merely a gamble:
A figure of speech
For the breach in the wall
Of political wailings
And also their failings.
 
Storm Michael: One More Symbolic Sign 10.12.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II;Circling Round Nature II; Arlene Nover Corwin
 
 

Storm Michael: One More Symbolic Sign

Storm Michael: One More Symbolic Sign

Worsening fires,

More dire censures

From poor mother Nature;

Storm winds and torrents

Since last tempest Florence 

Hit North Carolinas;

Coastlines more flooded,

And still those who doubt it.

Like President Trump,

Dumping evidence,

Still in denial.

Shunning the evidence…

What about Pence?

The climate thing vile.

 

Yesterday’s hurricanes,

Quickening winds and the rains with no drains…

Roofs blown off, trees blown down;

All of it happening all over town,

And all of it shown on TV.

 

We are living in times without equal.

With sequel statistical  flooding next door.

Storms know no borders,

And people are urged to be hoarders –

For crises like this are but chains,

And the rains have no enemies.

(maybe the sun – but that’s only one,

And nature’s not done with us –

That is for sure.

 

I’d bet my Schwinn bike

That Michael is far 

From ‘taking a hike’

And happy to hear 

That there’s not been one like it

Since records appeared.

 

This entire ramble

Is merely a gamble: 

A figure of speech

For the breach in the wall

Of political wailings

And also their failings.

Storm Michael: One More Symbolic Sign 10.12.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II;Circling Round Nature II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Being Remembered

Being Remembered🤔✍️🤔✍️
How would you like to be remembered?
Do you leave a name unblemished?
It seems to be today’s decor
That it is fame one’s going for:
Instant fame and more, more, more.
 
Life affirming while you’re living:
Your ambition:
Do you listen?
Does it have humility as spark?
Candidness, the best of trademarks?
Honesty, transparency?
A structure or a stricture?
Does the structure have self-knowledge
And the willingness to say “I’m wrong”?
A part of songs you wish to sow?
 
Bona fide fame comes slowly. (Pronounced bona fid-ee)
Doesn’t last if it comes fast.
Real work lurks in its background:
Lack of vanity to say you’re ‘so-so’
And indifference to fiasco.
 
But the trend is chasing marathons,
Traveling to distant lands,
Building ships on sinking sands
In lands where lava sleeps
And water ever creeps
Onto small isles that tremble.
Be remembered.
 
Be remembered
As the good go-getter for a better
World, the ground
Of future fertile worth
Whose girth is round.
 
Being Remembered 10. 9.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin

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