Sometimes the best things
Come from nowhere at all,
Rushing in like a summer wind,
Then gone a moment more.

Opportunities strike then fade into the darkness,
Life ever flowing,
Ebbing and changing, never staying the same.

After all, it wouldn't be interesting
If everything stayed the same.

the red light
stops me.

you are always there;
with your arms
full of flowers.

your flowers travel
in the passenger car seat
to the arms of a lover,
to the table of a hospital,
to the planks of a stage,
to a sanctuary.

and I wonder
if someone,
ever,
gave you flowers;
and if you ever
wanted
to be that lover,
or that patient,
or that actress,
or that saint.

I wonder
where you dreamed being at
when you were 10 years old.

¿what circumstances
ripped you off that dream
and put you over this
badly paved avenue?

the green light
illuminate us
again.

Being Honest

It’s hard.  
Sounds simple, but it’s hard.
It’s brave. It’s subtle.
And you’re scarred and marred.
It is so many things
That dare I write them sans façade
My friends complain:  
Too ****** demanding,
Hard to deal with; so much
Nuance; synonyms abounding.
They want simpleness: the easy way.

Simple, yes, but challenging.
You’ve got to be considerate,
Your character to deal with.
Why ****? Death comes to all.
An honest **** is still a ******.

Why press ideas?
You know that ideas change,
That phases are the germ of life.
It’s hard to stand against temptation,
Vengeance, easy money, vice;
Hard to be right-minded, truthful
Self-restrained, just being nice.

Funny, but
It’s easier to tell the truth
When you begin to show you’re age.
People show respect, in fact,
They think you’re sage.
They’re happy that they’re getting honesty
Straight from the shoulder:
Benefits of growing older.

Old or young or middle life,
We’ve all had problems, woes and strife.
There is an art to being honest
Without cruelty or exploitation,
Without character’s temptation.
Best we start.

Being Honest 4.5.4027
Definitely Didactic; Circling Round Reality;
.Arlene Corwin

Standing at the door, hesitant.
Wondering what I'll see.
The other side is haunting,
The other side's a mystery.

It could be the hell
I've always learned to fear
With dark emerging creatures
And an exit no where near

Drowning in your sorrow
Replaying every trauma
Screaming out to no one
It's more than highschool drama

Demons crawling under your skin
Breaking every bone
Scratching and tearing to get them out
You've never been so alone

Screaming in the night
Gasping your last breath
Ripping your own heart out
But never rewarded death

These images they haunt me,
But I've come to far to leave.
I must know what's in there
And what my future will be..

So here I go..
I open the door...

Oh my god..there it is....
This is what I've been waiting for..

I am a runner.
I run from the truth,
I run from the lies.
I run from possibilities,
I run towards my demise.
I run from the chances,
I run from any and all.
I run from my pain,
I run from happiness...
I just hope that I can keep
From running from you.
I am a runner...
In the past that's all I knew,
Now I have a chance at staying too.

I've always been a runner it's true;
But maybe I can be a fighter too.

I'm not just someone who time-after-time ***** things up.
I honestly believe I wrote the book on it.

And my book is filled with stories of how I, no one else, single-handedly messed up everything I could have had.
I've messed a whole lot of things up in my life.
And I regret it all.

And lately, I've been thinking,
About all that I've done wrong.

It's been weighing on my mind like an anvil.
And also on my heart.

I've done myself wrong,
I've done school wrong,
But most importantly,
I've done others wrong.

I've neglected outreached hands that could have been my lifelines.
I've missed opportunities that could have been my successes.
I've thrown away friends that could have been my family.
But above all else, I've missed the chances to have the things I want most in my life, and I have no one to blame but myself.

And honestly, I have no idea why.
I've had everything that I have ever wanted right in the palm of my hand.
Everything I ever wanted was reaching its hand out to me...

And I ****** it up.

And now, here I am writing another poem about the things I could've had,
Instead of enjoying them myself.

If I could just have one wish in life,
One more opportunity,

I would want to go back and fix it all,

Go back to those moments,
Go back to those days,
Go back to the hospitals,
Go back to the parks,
Go back to the rehab centers,
Go back to those precious moments,
And not **** things up.

Because if only I could just go back,

Maybe I'd have better stories to tell.

Who are you?
If they pull the trigger and shoot you
What could you do in a minute?
Fast walking and sprint
Like you never seen them
Surviving all the cramps
You must run fast as you can
Today shouldn't be your last
You could be as high as clouds
Can you fly, can you climb?
Can you wait until the light
Sparks of some fire shots in the dark
It's closer, too closer
Till they rip out your heart
With them bullets