okay, so i was the other woman.

okay, so i can’t call it that. so we were never a thing, never a label, never announced. so she was the pretty one and i was the *******. so i was never your first choice but i was, for a minute, your second.

okay, so maybe it started as cheap entertainment on the nights beer and phone calls weren’t enough and distance got the best of you. maybe i loved you then but i think i hate you now.

okay, so maybe i don’t hate you. maybe i’m just trying to pretend we never happened because maybe if it was all in my head i’d be over it by now. maybe i’m just tired, okay? of being the back-up girl. of being the one who stays, who breaks, who sits in the basement of a burning house just to feel the carpet one more time.
i just don’t want to burn anymore.

I am crazy about you
That fact is so true
I am in love with you
And you love me too
I wish you were here
That would put a smile on my face from ear to ear
I think about you daily
And miss you when you are away

poppies and chamomile bloomed roads,
covered in warm dust... such a pity
that these are the only ones left
to be pointing towards the eternal city,

where marble and stone still stand
on places gods used to walk bare-footed,
where belief was more than just demand,
until cassocks have had ancient ways sooted.

A place where manner was turned into art
And polymaths emerged from genius creation,
where Latin blood spills from heart to mart
In a continuous state of vibrant elation.

where green is the colour of oils and lust
and the sun can burn to a lemon flavour,
and the sand on the front of the boot is black
and the wine is more than a bitter-sweet savour...

There, where a walk through square paved markets
is bursting with hand-made stories,
where scratching through history's pride
would always end in timeless glory...

Alien to the things I see,
I have no intention to glance,
Through their lenses,
Alternative perceptions cannot clout
What I wish to seek.

she was so influenced by others
language, character, looks
no one knew who she truly was
or if she could ever be
just her

there are many ways to fail
and few ways to succeed.
he tried,
we failed,
we'll succeed with other people.

Talk me into
hypnosis

Walk me into
dreams

Take me into
your world

For mine
exists on paper
and yours...
I plea
to see

The Pleasant Difference ‘Tween The Spiritual & Religious

How to say this briefly:
Firstly, find words for the inexpressible.
They do exist.
Here is the gist:
Each has components -
Churches, sects and cults, their creeds:
The claim of being chosen.
Pure spirit's -ality doesn’t seem to need
A system woven
Into scripture which professes knowing
What is best for all,
Where if you’re good you rise
And if you’re bad you fall.

The spiritual as an approach to life,
Seems to place the emphases
On unity within the mixture of beliefs;
On peace and joy, and getting these;
Transcendent over time and space
And, most of all,
A sense that you are face to face
With truth about reality,
Its indescribability.
Yet not impossible to give a voice to;
Love that comes, fear that goes!
******, no.   A loving kindness big & small,
Universal, – if you will,
That permeates, recalibrates,
Connecting to an All that’s spirit: All in all.
Practices to help along:
Meditation, psilocybin, prayer and song:
The mystical both caused or opened.
That said, non- theistic preference
Needs to be demystified, a road for genius, dunce.
Not piety, religion, magic, paganism, or god-based,
Not theological nor physical,
But meta-, deeply meaningful,  
Yes mystical!
The core of all.

The Pleasant Difference ‘Tween The Spiritual & Religious 2.9.2017
To The Child Mystic II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Nature Of & In Reality;
Arlene Corwin