It’s All Yoga
    (Simple but not easy)

I don’t think people understand.
It being trend and only trend
They don’t exactly know
What they are doing.
Some think yoga is for beauty.
Some think flexibility.
Some think health of body,
Possibly tranquility.
The list goes on, with vanity foremost.
Yoga has an aim or two or three or four.
Surely, there is more to understand than four, for
Yoga aims at understanding
On a level corresponding to the tangible,
Intangible, (what we call spiritual)
Which means total, total, total, ALL!
Yoga  is a vehicle
For every single thing you do in mind and torso
To amplify the total you.
SO,
Focus on your fingers when you touch, grab, push.
Focus on toesies when you lie in bed.
Focus on the brain parts in your you-know, head
When quiet, worried, hurried, rushed,
Anxious, peaceful, doubtful,  ‘fraid:
The list goes on and on.

Focus, focus, focus find.
Nowadays they call it mindfulness
Or meditation.
It has always been.

Since everything you do contains
A means to find the who you are,
Defining what you’re headed for,
Ought to go and ought to know.
The principle
Is oh so simple -
But not easy.
Don’t be queasy about living.
It’s all take and it’s all giving.
Make the most of it.
Toast to it.
Make a yoga of this tool kit.

It’s All Yoga 2.11.2018 Circling Round Yoga II; Circling Round Reality; Nature Of & In Reality; Arlene Corwin

I read what you wrote, and I knew I had it coming
They say that someday the first will be last
Nothing goes so nice and orderly
My Love Shall Not Crawl Away

Not quite like that, my oldest friend
Let us talk and kiss once again

I have let you down?
Imagine me, in the snow,
All that hope

Yet all the years of expecting nothing
Taught me how to listen, how to gird myself
Against

You ever breaching this fortress
Of other potential Assassins

But our mothers can't climb this high
I'm ready to strike mine if she dared
Dead 13 years, but that won't stop me
Nothing will, just the thought of you

Forget it.
I ask you, forget us.
If one of us can escape this net
Such strange thing without a name

I want it
I need it
I hope it

Will be you.

~*~


2018

He said
"It’s ok to be strange, but not too strange"
And over the years it has never left me

Because apparently, people can appreciate your “uniqueness”
But only in small doses
And if that is so, then why bother at all?
You can’t take a piece of someone and call it a whole

The good and the bad that resides in all of us
Is something we have to accept wholeheartedly
It's our humanity

There is a madness in all of us
A darkness
Just the same
As our will to live
As our happiness

Being loved in bits and pieces is torture
It's not just wanting to change for someone
Trying to be what they want you to be

It's hating yourself for not being right to begin with
It's feeling inadequate
It's worries and doubts pouring over you like a thick sludge

It's wishing you could hate that person discarding those unsightly pieces of you
And not being able to

Some people don't see the pain they cause
Because they've become numb to their own pain
And have gotten tired of waiting
Waiting their whole lives for someone to see them as a whole

All it takes is one step forward
Steady and sure
And one resonating acknowledgement:

"It's ok to be yourself"

So that our hearts may flourish

In apple growing-warmth,
I found oceans between eyelashes and Pacific air.

Ligamented with smoke, skeleton hands crafted cigarettes of honey and curling floral sweetness.

For soft-haired royalty, I bowed my heart and washed my skin in space and rainy wishes.

I drowned myself in polish remover, to show the stripped beauty of love and life
to a sun who lives off alcohol and notions of wouldn't it be nice?

But I, the noiseless patient spider,
who has flung gossamer after thread,
am reaching for nothing but an earth flower,
One who I thought loved me,
or at least that’s what she said.
((one who sees through rose-pink eyeglasses,
and speaks in feathered song.))

Still, I sleep well under starless skies,
where urban northern lights burn the dark,
charred there by city windows and boundless passing cars.

Here, I wrap myself in a cloth galaxy,
and I paint the sun with blackberry juice,
trading gold and diamonds for the simple hope
that someone might live up to you.