Life,
A path diverged, splitting in two,
And alas, my beloved, you cannot tread both.
Choose one journey, yearn to endure,
It's an intimate voyage, a solo race to embrace,
Gaze far ahead,
Where it curved amidst the foliage, and witness how
Mortal society ebbs and flows,
Amidst an unchanging factor.
The masses conform to the transient norm,
Beloved,
Many sorrows arise from faith's inertia,
Idle and hopeful, they bear consequence.
Do not play the assigned role, for conformity persists,
As humans, we mimic one another,
Pride precedes ruin,
And arrogance leads to downfall.
They are shackled by their lack of freedom,
Drawn to those who flaunt their fluidity and uniqueness.
Beloved,
Tell this tale with a wistful sigh,
Somewhere in distant ages to come: that
Once, it was unfashionable to be rebellious,
Yet as multitudes assumed the rebel's guise,
It lost its distinctiveness, its defiance faded,
But two paths diverged, and you,
You chose the one less traveled,
And that choice has made all the difference.

Everything remains as it is, very much the same,
nothing much has changed.
Still keeping in mind the present,
all of the changes happened in the past need to be looked upon with regards to future.

The importance of time can neither be defied nor denied
When something gets defined and listed as a priority, even that element of priority gets attached to time
Definitely, it’s time the importance of which can neither be defied, nor denied.

Some things have changed with time
Some remain the same as they are, right in their respective places
When an approach is made towards getting something done,
important to make sure it’s a right approach.
Always a right approach makes the real difference with regards to future.
Success and failure, of course it remains part of the game.

Agreed and accepted that approach and attitude are different from each other,
however, it’s the positive attitude that makes all the difference.

Start with something in the present, over a period of time it will be realized that not only time, even efforts need to be monitored.
Start with something in the present, over a period of time you will remember the start, but not relate to it as a thing of past.

It’s fulfillment that matters
Satisfaction plays a major role when it comes to climbing up the ladder of success.

Never decide anything on the basis of past or prior
Decide the value of anything that will be purchased on the basis of present and future
A time will come when past will become a thing of past, but the present will tell what else needs to be done with regards to future.

Definitely nothing much has changed
Everything goes on in the mind with regards to what's right and what's wrong
Estimation, evaluation, calculation, you may call it anything, but definitely it’s a mind game after all.

Possibilities are many,
however scope keeps changing with regards to the future.
Keeping in mind all the possibilities and also the future,
important not to give up in life, but equally important to keep and maintain a positive attitude in life.
A day will come when success will happen, till that point in time keep on going.

What is originality anymore?
The pop songs we listen to day in day out,
That are only updated remixes of
Songs that our parents
Already know every lyric to.


Is it the pranks we play on each other at school,
Poking holes in the top of water bottles,
So we don’t get caught when we try to catch our class mates.
Drowning them
In carbonated energy drinks.

Don’t think you’ll get away with it.
The teachers already know,
About flicking elastic bands at the backs of girls knees,
So they scream a little louder
And turn around to see
Boys smirking faces,
Because they have been there before.


Define originality.

Originality
. /əˌrɪdʒɪˈnalɪti/
noun
1. the ability to think independently and creatively.

•the quality of being novel or unusual


synonyms: inventiveness, creativeness, creativity, innovativeness, innovation, novelty, freshness, newness, imagination, break with tradition, resourcefulness, cleverness, daring, individuality, unusualness, unprecedentedness, uniqueness, distinctiveness
.

Is it smuggling ***** in water bottles,
Or sneaking down to the back garden
To have one last cigarette with your friends,
At 1am
On New Years
When you have had more to drink than your parents
Yet you are only 15.
Watering down whiskey from your parents liqueur cabinet
With apple juice.

Getting caught drunk
After being out with friends, Stumbling in at 2am
On Sunday morning.


Storming up to your room
After having a row with your parents.
Slamming the door,
Screaming at the floor,
Calling a friend,
And ******* about the people who brought you into this world.


Maybe
I’m not as good with words
Than I thought I was


O r i g i n a l i t y I s D e a d


Your parents Grandparents
Aunties and uncles
Have seen it all before
It’s a fact of growing up
And one day
You will too know
Exactly how it is

The padlock on the continuous barnstorm of a transcendent time whose bunkum is transmuted consciousness aligning with parallax to a congruent worldview is not axiomatic but certainly a veridical property of reality. The universe is as much concept as percept and both properties of consciousness that lead to adaptive behavior are tethered to the eccentricity of the observer rather than the oblong nature of the observed where errors in prima facie judgments delineate the saplings of humanity to beaze under the proctored sunlight of an eternal sunshine that withers seldom to the whims of capricious arbitrage of those whose hubris exceeds the limits of the intellectual frontier because they are gilded with bricolage mentalities that scaffold the skeletonized worldview rather than apprehending the concretism and synthetic arraignment of interrogable reality in a manner that acknowledges the factitious intersection of pioneering understanding and the corporeal existence of realities both transcendent in spatiotemporal mapping and reversible propinquity to the sensible acquisition of tangible knowledge. I contest the worldview of many philosophers as a callow retread of basic logic whose ambition is underserved by a desire for prolix pellucidity rather than cogent succinct promethean formulations that dare to muster the herculean task of demystification even if the entropy of formulation is always flawed by the jaundice of the observers rather than the disdain of the observable consensus. We swing by a filipendulous thread that dangles speculation and reifies the blinkered piebald world of spotty concatenations among neurons recognizing that incomplete associations become the staples of philosophies that are precarious in some logical foundation but sturdy enough to weather the vagaries of the bluster of mendicants who verge on comprehension but pale in comparison to the monolithic edifice of so-called truth when the defalcation of figureheads supplants the clerisy as the new proctor of knowledgeable assertion. I contend that foofaraw is a primeval instinct of community ecology that expedites the balkanization of otherwise unitive properties of society and ravages them with bickering based on clashing predilections that are bellicose and combative rather than irenic and balmy. The acerbic fates of many leads to a rudimentary pessimism or a chary optimism that chides against the fortified exegesis of divinity that can be both proclaimed and stultified for its latticework properties of buttressing society in a permutation that is nimble in some respects but too turgid and rigid in others. The goal of humanity is to become a pliable instrument of a pliable universe that does not rely on buzzword dogmatism or the masquerade of hollow punditry but that relies on self-reliant principles for ascertaining veracity and impugning mendaciloquence with vigilant alacrity rather than casual sportsmanship that reaches finality only upon the handshakes of a battle waged that concedes the impotence of gladiatorial spectatorship as just a gambit of the half-witted cockney witticisms and shibboleths of sportive diversion rather than consequential and decisive reckonings with the subaudition that undergirds all events of any consequence with either a clinched victory or a callow defeatism of a futilitarian worldview that stoops to reconciliation only to propitiate antagonism and buffer against the truculent brunt of weaponized coercion to checkered flags that arbitrate the outcome of a binary polarity of humanized affairs. The majesty of creation is that reversible boundaries can be permeated in a bi-directional manner through the artifice of concerted thought rather than the orchestration of a linear traipse through the deserts of an inclement fate won immediately when projected upon the tangent of any given velocity at any point of acceleration away from the targeted impetus that grants only a partial vantage, a cantle of reality that is fragmented and piecemeal rather than circular and emergent. The most dire battle that humanity faces is the attrition of circumstance by the purposive declarations of imperious authority that seeks to muzzle the ingenuity of many for the deliciation of the few creating an accidia among the clerical institute of thinkers that imposes hogra that few people can grapple with that they are marooned into a cloister that reaps fewer rewards for an ascendant intellect than a virulent libido can clutch with predatory gallops against the also-rans that fight for carnality rather than the ethereal principles lingering within the grasp of many if it became a cynosure of worthy heralded acclaim. We witness the mass fecklessness of giftedness as a shackle of those whose plaudits come intrinsically fortified but sustain none of the abuses that the pedestrians would like to obtrude upon enlightenment to curtail and abridge the art of invention like the coagulation of blood to rob the vitality of throbbing pulse of importunate self-discovery of its macroscopic vista and its telescopic foresight about the future hodgepodge of a recursive fractalized reality besieged by the enemy of linear logical formulations implemented by ivory tower psychologists to muzzle the empowerment of abstruse language in order to make savory the nostrum of the apothecaries of delegated truth bereaved of recourse beyond certain leaps they cannot fathom well enough to flicker with even a faint transient wisdom that is designed to be amenable only to the supernal nature of ideation rather than the caprice of bedazzled humanitarianism. We need to forswear the -isms that flicker with doctrinaire dogmatism and flirt with forceful harangues that exhort a codified message and launch veridical properties of recondite etherealism into an immovable orbit whose inertia can broadcast a singular message of recoil against puritanism in science or skepticism in faith. The bedrock of this message is the deployment of useful extravagance without inordinate delay, the drivel of malcontent transmogrified into the prattle of estimable giants that have stature among the leviathan enough to recriminate against the autarky of self-smug simpletons that infest the world with barbarous indecencies and crude prepossessions that abortively crumple when met with the acerbic teleological gravity of ulterior consequence rather than blossom under the siroccos of manufactured wind designed for windfalls that always create a crestfallen aftermath from the anticlimax of understanding leading to the desiccation of consequence and the engorgement of precedence. These frangible realities become buoyant because the physics of the public dialectic insulates the creaky rickety vestiges of canonical knowledge as a sworn precedent inviolable and immune as a building block of all scholasticism, a retread of parchment recycled over and over again to entrench the past as the titanic vehicle that dictates the future of thought even though the porous inconsistencies of the vagrants of crude formulation make such a vessel less seaworthy than scientism and dogmatism of the monolith would have you believe to be true. The querulous quips of the uninformed predominate with such clutter that the armamentarium against useful idiocy is stagnated into a resigned accord with infernal subjugation of the public volition to insubordinate against a system of parochial enslavement rather than a catholic enlightenment whose universalism of principle ensures a steadfast society guided by scruples rather than undermined by the prickly thorns of abrasive contrition and the magnetism of empathic concern that sabotages the clarity of intelligence and provides a welter in the place of a well-arrayed code of peculiar but defiant distinctiveness that acts as the splinter that cracked the intangible but refractory borders of human inclination and demonstrated the sheer force of golden consistency rather than fickle withering resolve. I exhort and implore the world to heed the best minds that realize the syncretism is answerable to contradiction rather than scuttled from beneath by the impudence of its assertions against the common propriety when it stakes controversy as a gamble to aver the veracity of worldviews that violate orthpraxy with gusto as a brazen gallantry to rescue a foundering planet that seeks disequilibrium in harmony rather than an equilibrated sensibility that is proud to discriminate properly and honestly to clinch fact rather than kowtow to factitious slumber of somniferous kumbaya that is too deferent to maxims that are unduly polite only because charisma supersedes genius in its efficacy to mobilize people to fulfill their roles. With the miscegenation of justice that occurs because of expedience we find holes in many legalistic precedents because they anoint pettifoggery over sensible jurisdiction and face a leaky and ramshackle fate to foment paternalism and divide the clerisy among certain key considerations in order to save face rather than to impose a clarity of orderly supervision that seeks to dissipate the embroiled spiderwebs of dodgy prevarication and quacksalver logic to once and for all ascertain the truth that lurks beyond the primal jaundice of Kafkaesque confusion.

My dad takes me to the hospital on his bike.
It’s icy and he wears his sheepskin gauntlets
and I’m grateful to shelter behind him

secure in his familiar gruff intolerance.
This is not the first time he’s taken TOIL for me
and his frustration radiates through his layers

but this two-of-us space is still delicious,
still precious for its rare warmth.
And he parks, and we dismount like John Wayne,

and the wall of his leather back takes the lead
as I stride into outpatients in his impatient wake,
making demands for his boy from the nervous staff

and taking relief from the update on my progress
and for the scar that gives me some hope of distinctiveness
and a source of stories for years to come.

Stories with my dad.

Sometimes people are disasters awaiting,
in a manner of a sinkhole,
swallowed by an endless depression
that follows them with every
step and move they make
Not asking for anyone’s help
only adds to the chasms
of mind, body, and spirit

Sometimes people are disasters awaiting,
in a manner of a train-wreck,
which at one time followed
a direct path to redemption
Along the way, this train
veered towards a catastrophic path
of tragic consequences that will
forever scar their original goals

Sometimes people are disasters awaiting,
in a manner of a tsunami,
displaced by anger and hatred
towards those that are opposite
This same ire and prejudice
builds up within them continuously
waiting to reach its peak
and come violently crashing down

Sometimes people are disasters awaiting,
in a manner of an earthquake,
with a lot of negative energy
below their own physical surface,
shaking their faith and patience
One day rattling the uniformity
that all people rely on
for overall peace and existence

Sometimes people are disasters awaiting,
in a manner of a blizzard,
blowing around aimlessly, permanently blinded
by ignorance, preconception,  and one-sidedness
This same bias eternally darkening
their desire to be open
to the many differences among
the distinctiveness of humankind alike

Vicki A Zinn
April 10, 2016

Do you ever sit and just look out your window?
What do you see?
Where does your mind go?
Do you think beyond the street and sidewalk below?
Do you consider the multitude of people,
beyond your lines of sight?
The trees
and animals.
Nature.
Distant land,
all different.

Is your window open?
Can you hear the city outside?
What do you pick out?
The sounds of cars,
the distinctiveness of buses,
diesel engines,
a siren?
Voices.
Are they excited?
Maybe a laugh?
Can you hear a dog bark from where you sit?
Do you listen to the noises coming over the rooftops?
How far can you stretch your ears out into that city of sound?
At what distance is it just noise?
Do you hear that hum?

Do you look up at the sky?
What is up there?
Clouds?
What color are they?
Do airplanes fly above your window?
Is it night?
Is there a moon?
Can you see beyond the city glow?

Who else is looking up with you?

I Still Have Ego Left

I still have ego - all its parts.
Is it the ‘smarts’?
Is it the ‘dumbs’?
Something to succumb to?
On the good side ego gives me self-esteem.
On bad, it gives me self-conceit,
Leads me to think sour is sweet,
Leads me on a road that’s wrong:
Vanity, a false self image;
Is that knowledge or mirage?  
Singing a wrong, woeful song?

Do I want to **** it?
Subjugate it?
Maybe, just an itty bit!
Why quash, why squash
Distinctiveness, uniqueness,
And the differentness
That makes us us,

Even when peculiarity,
You are you and I am me.
We do not want to change that, yet
The ego fools us masterfullly.
Wresting honesty from wisdom.

So with ego left, the outcome is:
Learn to distinguish real from false;
Take the pulse of life each day
And play the game of authenticity.
I Still Have Ego Left 8.14.2018 Circling Round Reality; Arlene Nover Corwin

Part 1....

The darkest of nights
and the gloomiest of times,
I resided in the core of the despair and on the surface line of hope;

in the cocoon of desolation
and appearance of connections;
broken, harmed, tilted and flawed.

The feel of my cocoon has ever been resolute and passionate in failure,
the success of my quests has always been mediocre,

but just as all the dark emergences concealed themselves,
under the lit of dominant creation,
formation of eventualities and pavements.
Nothing of it touched as an arrival of the blooming spring,
rather it consoled as the departure of autumn, right in the middle,
in the diffusion of lit and dark.
And the journey of quests never ended,
rather it accentuated and consumed....
and gradually made me a segment of it's own whole being.

Never did I know, that once again, unlike the first time,
I would again be mouldered of my existence,
in the process of being transformed into the identity of a seeker,
not a possessor.
Miles apart were you
and still is there where you are
and miles apart is where you will be,
to shed the light upon the dark,
from heavens above the sky.
A perishable and ever consoling view of the light ,
being promised as a reward,
to develop a lust for and a soulful desire for.

Just like this, the dark kept seeking the light,
in the quest of its core,
believing itself to be an ever parted shadow, incomplete, desolate and misconceived.
The light was just temporary
and it vanished away within the cocoon of eventuality,
the dark showed up,
once again,
with all its substance, passion, realness and corruption.

The quest of centuries never brought to an end,
the diffusion of the dark and the lit,
as they belonged to one other,
they originated from each other,
and clasped their hands to forever subsist each other.

Breakage was an absolute truth they shared,
ultimate separation,
snatching away from them the spiritual rule to exist with one another,
within a moment,
to experience the amalgamation of faith walking it's never ending pavement to completion.

Distinctiveness was what they mutually shared,
in the hollow of oneness,
separated they were,
but connected from within,
unlike all the ones connected on the emergence,
and broken from within.

....
ASJAL

was somebody young at heart
and broken for the first
then heart found a new path of life
her distinctiveness made me feel head over heels

became a cure for the bleeding soul
a match made in heaven
letters to each other like two love birds and
changes took place

ambling the busy street
talking about Love and Future
never expected a change in mind
habits are not the same again

but realised I handled her as  a cure not as lover
broke her before she lives for me !
'cause she's the one I care for
wondering if I did it correct
were I harsh?

could fix it again
but don't want to
I feel to say the cause
but we don't talk anymore

don't want a new Her now
'cause I did the Same !

You will never begin to comprehend our struggle
until you have suffered innumerable casualties
as us until you have had your heart ripped out
and scattered in the broken streets, scarred, charred.
feeling like we are being dragged upon slippery tar.

Every day a mother has to consistently worry and pray
for her young men and women of today, wishing
them peace and abundant love to shoulder them
through this cold world, this thunderous storm
of ferocious depictions, inconsistent elements
weaving the world into a drunken despair.

Various black teens catch a blazing bullet in the chest
each day by these devious police officers, as many lay
on the scorching pavement, their thoughts sporadically
shifting, drifting, crumbling, pinned down to the ground
by multiple cops, incessantly punched in the face, snatched
by their necks, lashed across the back with a baton, their
****** bruises a wave of boundless discrimination targeted
against the black race for the color of their rich chocolate skin.

When will these ruthless crimes ever end?  How can we call
ourselves a democracy when one side is divided within
the subconscious?  How can we evolve when white racists
thwart us from reaching the top?  It’s a constant and predominant war against the blacks, driving while black, walking along the sidewalks while black, the alleyways and street corners, confused conjunctions, sinking sensations, crazy vibrations streaming through our veins, lost in this delirious reality, immeasurable brutality, crashing off course as they have no remorse for their actions.

Our enriched melanin skin paints a vivid depiction
of the pain that we have endured for 400 years,
living in fear, psychologically alienated from the nation,
wishing to break away from this damaging creation,
to chase our greatest dreams and be an inspiration
within our black community, to be a powerful mountain
demonstrating our profound beauty and distinctiveness  
in the land, to be more than who we are, to be a shimmering star.