My bad habits strike again
your strong charm pulls me in
whilst you begin to lure me in, I'm never going to win.
quickly my mind is filled with only you
what can I do?
your wrongings always seem right,
I can no longer fight.
I'm stuck in a hypnotic spell,
can you not tell?
can you not see, I'm no longer sane for your own gain..
this isn't a game.
I'm no tool, but I'm definitely a fool.
you eventually break me with your demonic heart,
where I'm forced to make a new start
as you leave back to hell, but I still hope
you are doing well.
even while there's a hole in my soul,
you're too busy finding your next victim.
your devilish laughter, I can still hear and
I can still feel for l will never heal,
but I will still continue to damage myself doing the same mistake,
like a mindless *******.
although you have returned back to hell
Who's really in it?

This is my promise: I will raise my kids right.
I will never raise my voice to them.
I will never raise my hand to them.
I will lay not a single finger to them.
I will never threaten to kick them out.
I will never drag them from our home.
I will never threaten to harm them.
When they do wrong, I shall teach them accordingly.
Not with anger in my voice,
Nor with fury in my hands.
Shall they wrong me, I will calmly explain as to what they did wrong.
I will not purposely anger them.
Nor will I manipulate them.
If I find me to be in the wrong, I will admit it, and I will not twist my wronging to make them in the wrong.
I will raise them right.
Not with anger or threats.
If they be gay, bi, or straight, they will always have a bed.
Should they be trans or not, my arms will always be open.
No matter what wrongings they have committed, I will never speak with rage.
They are my children, and they deserve respect.
They are humans, and deserve to be treated as humans.
Not as a dog that has torn the couch,
Or soiled the bed.
No matter what, I will be kind and gentle.
Never will I drive them away, nor shun them.
This is my promise: I will raise my kids right. With love and kindness.

Joy, Love, Truth

What do you think your brain is doing
When you’re sad, depressed or *******?
Lots!  When sad or in a mood
Amygdala and hippocampus glued
To memory’s emotions tied,
Sensations not forgot!
When you’ve got the hots for someone
And that one is non-responsive
Do not let depression in.
Turn a sadness into gladness
And remember, hippocampus
And amygdala are slingshots into hindrance,
Solving blocks impediments;
A cross to bear you do not want to wear
Life through.

To continue:
Are you full of cheer?
Do you like people
All around whomever and wherever
You come into contact?
Do you strive for truths and stick to fact?

My advice is but to focus!
Deal with body/mind detail.
When you hit resistance, stop
The movement in the middle;
When you hit insistent pain,
Plain sense and yogic counsel
Is to halt smack in the middle of its riddle.
You will soon feel feel well - or well-er
Than the hell before.

When feeling low, illusionary concepts flowing
Going into brain, mind, soul,
Into the feel of wholeness
Is to know the stealing big fat lie:
Illusion passing for reality.

Through the trick of nothing’s nowness
(you could never start with less)
You secure the greatest motivation
To escort you to salvation.

Fortune, fame; misnomer’s lame and empty crown  
Ties you up and ties you down -
When you see the sin of daily longings, basic wrongings,
Throngs with faith in spectre choices,
From profession to the newsy voices,
Know these are not real truths
But grounded themes on schemes and dreams
To lead one far from happiness to emptiness and being fooled.

Let your  ‘down-ness’ be your tool
To push and lead to real seeing,
No more robot in your thinking, but a being
Meant for more.
Joy, Love, Truth 2.6.2019 Circling Round Reality; Arlene Nover Corwin

Words Are ‘In’

When I was young I lacked the means
To speak my thoughts, ideas or longings.
(though aware of rights and gladnesses and wrongings).
I lacked words: shades of utterance and indication.
Reactions, yes, linguistic thinking - I think not.

Around the age of twenty,
University degree behind me,
Marriage, baby,
Books, experience exposures new,
Movements calling for articulation:
Music, writing, word expression:
Understanding! Wow!  
A very non-linguistic Wow!

Now it’s now
And I expect, respect
Each precious aspect
Only word contains;
Retains through thick and thin.
Words are ‘in’.
Words Are’In’ 3.9.2021 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin

The Best Thing  I Know

The best thing I know
Is to scribble down longings, life’s wrongings,
Love’s singing,  its stinging…
By letting the mind re-examine itself;
Watching world going by while in bed,
At its head, sitting silently gathering info
On news fact and mail,
Nailing knowledge on some tricky wiki- or so.

Christmas will be here in only some days,
A new year announcing a new phase
Of conflicts world-wide and world round;
Science will stumble upon some new ground
It has searched for for years,  
Praised and surprised, encircled by cheers.                                    
Fashions and trends, starts and ends will go on.
I will write into night seeking thoughts to dig into;
Unknown and new, cued by visualisation:
Thoughts to set words (not set worlds) afire,
Freed from the mire
                             of frazzled cliche.

The best thing I know
Is to grow through an intellect
Coupled
With Mac so fair,
Happy it’s there.
We’re a pair.
The Best Thing I Know 12.19.2020 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative  II; Arlene Nover Corwin