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Simple Sep 2018
- 5
I live in my head
behind close doors
where I talk to my
thoughts.
wont leave till im dead
Arlene Corwin Nov 2017
I was sitting in the bath doing my usual grubblande (Swedish for brooding, musing or contemplating) when I had the thought that there's no one special way that suits everyone.  All great teachers have know this, and I, being a 'great' yoga teacher thought about my lovely ladies each of whom has entirely differing needs when doing the same posture.  Hence, There's No One Way - written on a near standing envelope with a dull black eyebrow pencil.  It was a hell to read what I wrote hours later.

        There’s No One Way

Isn’t that grand?
There’s no one hand or leg or breast or eye;
No muscle, vein, no capillary:
No technique for everybody.
Find out who you are!

No one way to take a bath,
Wash a dish, play the harp.
No one true A that’s flat or sharp.
Find out what you want!

Nature’s force is infinite;
The ways of change spectacular.
Sudden sometimes, mostly slow,
So you don’t know what’s happening
Until it blows (as in volcanoes).

What conclusions can we draw?
“Know thyself” the door essential, referential.
Gleaning rules for self -behavior,
Self- analysis, for judging not;
For simply knowing what
And how and when to do
What’s good for you
Because there’s not one ‘tried and true’ for Fu Manchu,
The cuckoo, the well-to-do.
Renew yourself in any way that suits!
There’s No One Way11.30.2017 Nature Of & In Nature; Definitely Didactic; Arlene Corwin
The first paragraph above the poem is just me talking to you.
Josue cruz Aug 2015
When i was a kid they told me i was not so normal
I couldnt understand why so many people looked at me so funny
Like as if I werent even formal
Growing up they gave me the nick name bunny
I was as smart as i was quick
Allways did things like a dart
But as people began to know me they ran saying I was sick
Some said I was mental
So I began to be real slick
Started robbing when i was nine
Because my dad left me at the age of five
Momma allways told me look at the world and tell it everytime you can
Im a fine man
And i cant be knocked about
So I steped up and made every dream come true
Even though many told me to kick the can
I said look at me now I drew the plan
But even though I was a success
I knew throughout the years i was still so so sick
Then one night after 2 or 3 shots
I came down felling I was blessed
But the anger that was in me would never really rest
I made bullet holes through the walls that went chick chick chick
I will allways be crazy inside
Daylight 4U2C Feb 2014
Sleep.
Sleep child,
til' the light overpowers the darkness inside,
where I secretly cried.
I secretly tried,
but no one would guess,
and I never put my cards face up.
It's only ketchup.
Used to patch up,
the cut and scratch ups,
caused by the dull
of my pencil,
and my soul.
I fell,
but I dragged myself up again,
back into my daily skin,
and I'm that burden.
That one whose not fully there,
told by everyone, "you just don't care",
with a random shudder scare.
The words I despise you all think,
even the shrink,
and it drowns me to the sink.
I'm that disaster,
everyone's after,
maniacal laughter.
"Am I losing my mind?"
"Is this mind really mine?"
"Would dying be fine?"
I'm not so refined :)
I can see the things in perfect imagery,
things I don't want to see,
always worried everyone hates me.
I can't see,
I'm not me,
I'm not even a somebody.
Maybe inside is some other ghost,
I'm the host,
at my death let's just have a toast.
Til' death do we part,
take it as a new start,
buy the roses to my grave from walmart.
I didn't think I mattered anyways,
sleeping through these pass-me-by days,
my mind playing simon says.
I always secretly try,
but I am still I,
and now simon says ".....goodbye."
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