#customs
My work is not too much for me
On the contrary, it is not enough
result and even confirms
what should have changed
It is new bottles
for soured wine
It doesn't resolve any
problems, it reassures
the managers
And that is what I live off
That is what makes me unhappy
and the staff even more so
.....after the walking meditation
.....on the company's mission
.....after writing haiku together
.....singing keynotes
.....and, if necessary, fire-
.....walking
.....to change fearlessly
.....and to do that together
.....even if the boss does not dare
Apr 29
Apr 29, 2026 at 2:26 AM UTC
I leave a little
of the food I was given --
Yes, it is tasty!
Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 2:36 AM UTC
It is six in the morning
I wake up with a start,
And prepare to face the day !
Becoming presentable,
Collecting my wits I am on my way!
The real Me is gone
And the Social me is born !
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 12:58 PM UTC
Here is a plant that could cut your thumb
From a strange frond does it become
With its pieces cut fresh
It can disolve your flesh
We'll give it to you as a sign of welcome
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 12:11 AM UTC
Who Wouldn’t Mind Being Remembered?
Who wouldn’t mind being remembered?
It’s not the same as wanting fame -
Naiveté’s vanity its other name.
Who wouldn’t mind some impact?
An itch to reach out
Maybe teach, knowing one knows so little –
Naught at all – We are so small.
But art is there,
And impulse wants from within wants out,
Shouts quietly with word
When you yourself have disappeared.
Who Wouldn’t Mind Being Remembered? 8.16.2017
Birth, Death & In Between II;
Arlene Corwin
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 5:06 AM UTC
No rush of the bulls
filled these narrow cobbled streets
where tradition and
songs sounded over pinxos,
and stories of San-Fermin.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 2:28 AM UTC
Watch them
Searching amongst a trifling heap!
Bear your watch ~
And gear your gaze,
Realize this dangerous maze.
-
Through the brush,
Along the hills,
Stands a little shack..
An outcast with a knack~
No one could understand this very odd man.
Yet even to reach him on foot or on yak
It would mean you must
Lead away and carve your very own tracks.
Where to go, following the road no one goes?
What to see or to learn, exploring what no one knows?
Speak! unique star of the universe,
Tell your stories of the beautiful adventure,
That only you chose..
You could dance or stand still,
Sit on solid ground or climb a sand hill!
Talk in verse
Or reverse your curse and present your prose
Into a rhythm only you really knowss
Look, let me stop..
..
..
I admit, I'm just an ordinary man.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
The sugâ galantly stand around
with their spears
Dressed in goat ' s skin with painted
faces and hair
Their countenance say ' do not dare '
A direct contrast of the square ' s
light air,
Which is exagerated by the
tipsiness from the locally brewed
beer .
With dances the festival began in
earnest ,
Each dancer stamping hard to
make his beats the loudest.
The tipsy audience laughing and
cheering their best ,
Men, like chimpanzees , beating
their bare breast.
Mandiang is all, anything else is
being put to rest.
The drull drum is a - play for the
sugâ dance
Marking the ****** of all that has
and is to chance ,
The majestic monarch march for
the entrance
And the time for the rain - making
ritual to commence.
So it, at the end , rained as usual ,
The welcome crown of this annual
ritual .
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC