December 11

TAPERS



I wax poetic and burn the candle at both ends. I borrow from the beginning, I steal from the end, coming up short and feeling deeply cheated. I pass myself off as the time-keeper but am the time-pleaser, arch-traitor selling short the days and hours for approval, not fulfillment. I put away my true identity: mammal, human, the love of; I have exchanged it for the mask and cape of the Do-do-doer, a tragic figure of myth and legend who breaks the spirit of everyone who attempts the portrayal. In spite of this the roads teem with actors becoming caricatures of a life less lived. The world is more than a stage, and I must free powers greater than I to be more than an audience.



Laugh at old jokes and tell new ones.
*


Whose Oxygen Mask goes on First?


Desperation is the fuel which forges my resentments.
When I fear for my survival,
physical, emotional or financial
this will turn my response to your behavior into tinder,
sometimes gasoline and set our interaction ablaze.

Melt all which is steel strong between us
and create a molten mess
from which it will be a struggle to recover.

This is why me,
taking good care of me,
attending to my life, and quelling my fears
is the very best way for me to protect you
from my attitude and save me
from a negative balance sheet during my 10th step.

I have nine months sober today. -dances-

Congratulations!!! Happy Sobriety to you!!

Thank you! I'm proud of myself!

December 12

BLEATING FORMALITY


Stupidity stalks me when I am tired, hijacking my mouth. I can put this off to pilot error or interruption of service on my neurologic pipeline, but truly I have been captured by senseless, irrational muttonness. I would love to say it was pigheadedness but, alas, I am not self-determined, I am a sheep. I open my lips and out pours the same plaintive cry as the surrounding herd. In addition, once begun, the wail is unending; it’s as if the bellows works on its own carrying a tune which blends with the entire wool-coated world. I shift and run with my position according to the movements at large. I am following the reactionary breed, dropping the specifics of my personality as one of the crowd; my brain is switched off and a quick veneer grows over my eyes. I can’t see, think, or speak for myself and yet it doesn’t occur to me to hit the hay. When as a petulant three year old I do fall to sleep in my tracks, I wake as myself with many bleating apologies to be made.

Put morbidity on a leash and never walk it alone.
*


Peter and I


This flight is not filled
with the giggling cherubs of my westerly flight,
but among the solemn children on this flight
is Peter, the oldest of four,
who is reading Tolkien
and marking his place with a two page wish list.
Christmas is coming and Peter seems confident.

I wonder if we are what we read
and ponder if I am what I write.
Poetry, stories, novels, declarations,
it all feels like arms and legs,
things I cannot move right without.

I live better when they are out and free.
I am free too, when they live on their own
and I am not their soul residence.

I have to rededicate myself
to the work entrusted to me
for so much living depend upon it.

December 13

WHAT IS MINE


The cloud of snow slept in the tree overnight and poured from the branches with the morning breezes. Showers of crystal, dropping from a clear daylight sky, are telltales of intentions delayed. What was meant for moon time has been kept till sunshine, a treat for bright eyes and young hearts. How can I weep over altered destinations? Arrivals and departures are truly within the province of poetry and postcards, not things for worry or fretting. Putty is for forming into an image of my desire not the world. Time is a liquid substance I cannot decant at my will. Shoulds and oughts are parlor games for the bored and senseless. If I waste my life playing a game I can’t win I will fail to see what I can’t lose.


Work with someone who works.
*


Pretty Girls

Pretty girls seem to live by separate rules,
but I don’t know why.
The world is filled with people and rules,
crazy circumstances and the uniformity of exception.

The where and what for, of arbitrary allowance
to be regulated based on symmetry or fashion
strikes me as odd, beyond survival
and this may explain so very much.

Gravity pulls down equally; discriminates for nothing.
Orbital rotation continues in spite of the fairness of an eye.
The universe supports us without end
but prejudice is our failing
and I blame it on the pretty girls

December 14

DO WE SEE



The old man walked down the road to see the end; I followed to glimpse the fruit of his pursuit. Does the highway come to rest or like the river just feed a greater sea? And time; will the clock stop him? Can he win the treasure hunt as the seconds tick away on the metronome? Will the slowing of his steps and the advancing of his age create a curve, which will prevent his accomplishment? Does this tag-along I am doing make me a part of his project? The road is long and its end may never come, only ours. When we take the road the road takes us. More and less is what we are and so too the road. I follow the contour of the ground, which curves around the world, spinning in our sky so we can all see the stars.

Reality builds contentment, fantasy disappointment.

*


Calm, Peaceful, On



Once I center my mind I can type in the dark.
All it takes is me present and willing to flow.
Limber up the learning curve,
press my fingers to the keys,

Let the story tell its tale.
Cease the interjections lest it all go stale.
There is nothing much to know,
its all inside, I just let it go.

Emptying this crowded vault,
I open up to prevent assault.
What to do when it hits the page;
marketing is all the rage,
but for this task I need a light.
To sell myself I must be bright.

quoting Sherrie below:
"Reality builds contentment, fantasy disappointment"

For me, this compact bullet statement is powerful when I apply it to my recovery.

Thanks, Sherrie!
Hugs to you, my friend! :)

December 15

GOOSE



I round this corner nearly every day. There in the field stands a flock of problems pecking the ground and flapping their wings. Uniform and regular, the honking and squawking is undistinguishable from yesterday. I ponder and squint; are these the same or yet another gaggle making their way along a migratory path? Trouble is feral, skulking the edges of the field but never sheltering in the yard. I must leave my hands off, knowing these are not mine. The feathers fly and I gather the strays acutely aware of the ticklish nature of this. Awkwardly I face the truth, no matter how much of a perplexity this is to me or to others, it is only geese.


Run because you want to and the starter’s whistle won’t bother you.
*


Crazy Time


Picking the right time to be crazy
seems to be the key to getting away with it.
Wanting to get away with it slants the field a tad.

What crazy is, changes from place to place,
which puts all the more emphasis on the timing.
The surrounding company and barometric pressure,
play parts and put on airs.

Lighting, lighting must also be involved,
I assure you I don’t know how
and can’t calculate the Ohms,
but I flip the switches in case it helps.

I have mapped for you a fair amount more than I know.
I wish you well on your attempt,
for crazy is a kindred club,
I would hate for you to feel inept.

December 16

GOOD SAMARITAN PIE


The meal prepared from my cognition, the bread and jam of humility, salad of expectation, roast of determination and Good Samaritan pie, wait on the table to be devoured. The courses pass and come dessert my kindly intentions are cut to wedges and pushed from setting to setting. I can, with dollop after dollop, cover the requisite desires of this tart in an attempt to deny my addiction to fixing or I can serve up the plain truth. I help and help and wander down roads looking for lost puppies to return to their homes. I must admit my longing to lend support is sometimes half-baked, and if kept to home and hearth it might serve me better and make a sweeter dish. Assistance is best in proportion to the meal. I must live my life and save my pie till last.


Hold each other's hands but explore.
*
Touch Your Toes


Funny how we deal with feet.
I have seen a woman cradle hers
and treat it like the dearest babe.

I know some folks who shun their feet;
can barely stand to think of them,
let alone to touch them.

There are the Mani-Pedi people
who leave it in the hands of others.
I met a guy who soaks them soft
and tucks little bits of cotton
under the corners of his nails.

I know too,
the woman with the snarling crusty dogs
that serve to others as a warning.

My grandma warns me
not complain about my shoes
lest I meet the man who has no feet,
but I doubt I would fit in his.

Putting out the Bat-Addict call...
 

December 17

POPCORN FLAVORED LOLLIPOP


I can’t know it. I can’t believe it. The world of popcorn flavored lollipops is now being visited upon me. Both a surprise and a comfort, a popcorn flavored lollipop is given to me by the gas station attendant. A blast of sugar and salt waken my tongue. What can a mind do in the face of a buttered, salted bonbon on a stick? I wouldn’t have thought of it, not in a million years. This is somehow a source of hope to me. There are open-minded people living in the world around me. I often pray for creative thinking on the part of my Higher Power; I inadvertently dismiss the populace who is producing prodigies of ingenious originality and cunning. I want the world to be gifted with what sobriety has given me. Candy is not world peace but many great things start with a little sweetness.


Real rules can’t be broken.
*



Not My Best Friend

No matter how tightly I hug a lump of coal
I will not prevail in turning it into a diamond.
Some days I accept this better than others.

My desire may affect the coal,
but this affect is not diamond producing;
though it is stress producing.

I know it stresses me and chills me to the bone.
I had thought of coal as warming,
but the disparate love of coal proves to be anything but.

I have pinned my hopes
on what this lump had the potential to become
rather than acceptance of what it is and now.

I see I must light my own fire
and know the coal is not mine.

I sure do identify. I have had someone with longer sobriety than mine spreading all kinds of vile accusation about me to my friends. it was shocking and painful. I am in the same place about it as you. Why would anyone lie about me? It seems crazy and the conclusion that I've come to about it is that it is crazy! Hurt people hurt people and I can't stop that. The only thing I can do is not be the one lying about people or hurting folks and the rest is out of my hands. I wish you all the best with this. my advice is surround yourself with good clean and sober individuals. I like to listen to comedy revenge music, it makes me laugh and laughter helps a bunch. Have a good evening my wonderful Brit! :kissy:

As Always...Thanking LeftWriteFemme for her steadfastness and dependability to keep this here everyday. I don't get in here enough..that is on me...but,
glad that it is here.

Takehimaway....the 90 day...big big BIG deal. Some of the hardest times.

Me, i did a 90 in 90....more like a 360 in 90. I am due for more of that. It is
refreshing to say the least.

I remember my first 90...wow...it was awesome. One of the greatest times in my life actually.
Some personal discoveries...Chocolate is not overated...it is actually mentioned in the bigbook. Now, wishing that i could direct you right to that page. It is there. Maybe you know where? The other thing is that...i always had to have water in the beginning. That physical deal...and it was good for me.
Freds story (i dig) ...we are only really 90 degrees away from
losing the gift of sobriety that we were given. Yeah, we gotta work.
But, Fred reminds me of what a gift sobriety is...and how easily we could
lose it. Page 39 Also, that not everyone gets the opportunity to get clean and sober. And some that do get the opportunity and stay sober...lose it anyway.

Easy Does it...but, do it.

Congratulations :hangloose:

DMW

[QUOTE=Daktari;718037][COLOR="DarkRed"]Hey-up you batty, addictive types of Gotham I needs me some advice/suggestions from folks who're more sensible than I.

Hi Daktari, i am coming from a place of assuming that you did not do this
based on what you wrote.

First off...gossip is gossip. we can't control what other people do.
why would we want to? we discover the truth about who people really
are, and how people really act or react, when we let them be themselves.


My job is to not react. And God i do sometimes. I regret when I do that if
I am not kind about it.

Remember the rule in difficult situations...don't say anything, unless it is;
Kind
Necessary
or True?
I remind myself of this(more often) when i am spiritually fit. BLAH

Your true friends are the one's that will not judge and be open and honest...
will come forth with their questions. Or, if it is so troubling to you..which.. i do not fault you one bit. You can go to them and talk to them. Ask them where does this come from and why would someone say this about me if it wasn't true. If there is someone you respect so much and honor the friendship you have with them...personally, i would need to talk to those
people that i respect and care about and value their friendship. I would need to know if they did and why. If it winds up that they lied...that ugh that hurts. Ask them why? And just remember that we don't always perceive people the way that we think we do. Lies are so harmful and generally stem from fear, pain, jealousy and hate.And lies can be forgiven if they were not meant to harm you. You know. Ugh, hard topic.

The other, really, important thing to note is this....
Give that one away..to God or the wind or whatever works for you.
We can't control others and don't need to depend on what they think
of us as more important than what we think of ourselves and know for ourselves and about ourselves to be true. We can only control what
we do. We are our own actors...we do not control or direct the play or the other actors in it.
Thank God.

Step one also tells us that we are powerless over people places and things.

Cheers and hope my response does not offend in anyway.
Gotta Scoot and thanks for asking for advice. It helps me too.

Experience, Strength and Hope

DMW

December 18

WATER PROOF



What could water prove anyway? I get in the water and I get wet. I’m sure there is a theorem but a proof is highly doubtful. Naiads dance with tridents in their hands illustrating the beauty and danger of the waves but this certifies nothing. Juiceless arid dirt can make no claims either. I see the ducks take flight pushing the air with their wings and the rivulets trailing from webs. This is the thing to scoot beneath at the surface, take sustenance and pleasure, but never to become so saturated that the air is lost. Waterproof… is the way to go.


Give preconceived notions a place on the shelf or in the can but no place in your life.
*



Lame

I easily identify the big mistakes of my life,
but fail to recognize or report the little mistakes
that I make, mistakes, which cost me so much.

Repetitive irresponsibility has the effect of water torture;
drip, drip, drip and my peace of mind is worn away.
What can I say of what I refuse to see?

It was there all along like the view covered by the shade.
Who is to blame for not raising the curtain?
It may be me. may not, but I am the one who suffers,
I am the one who misses out.

Missing the opportunity to grow out of these
small deficiencies leaves me with a life long handicap
and I am not just speaking of my blindness,
but also how they make me lame.

Woohooo! The sober batty types came through!
 

December 19

ALMOST TWINS



You and I are more alike than different yet we cannot get along, though I ponder why this surprises me so. A cloud and a watermelon are 98% the same and no one would mistake them in a crowd or expect them to be companionable except in the way of two things existing in the universe. My expectation of liking you for our similarities is set up by my fear that I don’t like myself, but the joke is on me. My dislike of you is not a reflection of anything but time and space. My friends are the people who like me, not necessarily the ones who are like me. The president didn’t like broccoli without slurring its good name and I can dislike you without inferring you’re a vegetable.

Enjoy the approach as well as the work.
*

Scalene


Strangeness is attracting, I don’t try to deny it.
I have looked longingly at oddness
and every skewed thing.

Though I try to divert my gaze the acute angles
draw me back to peer again and again.
Strange attractors have an unexplainable beauty to me.

The wane charisma digs its hooks into my soul
and I carry it off like a burr stuck to my hide.
What does this say of me, I am not sure?

What does it say of the sidelong loves of mine?
Volumes, I think it speaks volumes,
all of it unknown to me.

December 20

COOCOO’S NEST


I ran away to join the zoo hoping a life contained would calm me. The segregation hit me first; isolated exclusively with those of my stripe drove my thirst for diverse scents and opinion. Next, the monotony of the landscape bore into my brain. The well-meaning effort of the keepers bears the mark of folks who go home at night. The blandness of the food and music lent nothing to the experience, and antiseptic could drive anyone wild. The final blow, the one that struck constantly and coldly, was the stream of observers waiting to be entertained.


Embrace plain tools and fine minds.

*

Home Fires Burning

I have trouble living with myself,
that is why I live with you.
It takes my mind off the things I don’t wish to face.

What I can busy myself within your service
lightens the load of expectation heaped in my DNA
by my Higher Power and Fate.

Worry is time consuming
and I wile away hours fretting over you
and all your unresolved trifles
while turning my back entirely on my life.

I couldn’t be happier to have you,
though from the corner of my eye
I glimpse God packing your bags.