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May 9
The Little Black Dress The holes in my pockets cause me to feel naked. Though it is an inside pocket and no one can see through I feel exposed, my thinking changed and for that matter chained, one link looped through the next. I start with a hole in my pocket so I know I can’t stay in this dress all day. I know I will need the storage later as time wears on but I can’t change now and I don’t want to waste time putting on my tights. My legs are cold. I fly from room to room. I gather my keys, but forget my phone. I am bare legged and unreachable, overexposed due to a hole in my pocket. Keep in mind that love doesn’t conform to opinion, even well meaning opinion * SLAYING OLD DRAGONS Your roar is Doppler-low And I can feel my steps move the earth As I go forward. Former dominator Scary from every angle I come for you today The scales are falling, I don’t rip them but they fall I can breathe at the heights of you lair I am not shrinking The booming voice you had is gone The power spilling away from you I don’t fly from you Gone is the tremble you once instilled The curtain has parted And you are revealed |
May 10
More Than a Fedora I have no explanations only expletives, I wish I had something to say that you wished to hear, but that is not current events; foul humored broadcasts are what fill the air this day. Bad temper is tempting, but I can no longer be satisfied in this way nor is this a performance that you care to witness. I will play FCC to my ruminations curtailing this colorful darkness for my benefit and the clearing of the air. I have never shied from dramatic vocabulary and I do not now, but throwing out words is waste and I am learning to conserve. I don’t have to leak my power I can cover my head and close my mouth. Know what you are holding on to * URBAN LANDSCAPE I am taking this giraffe to the penthouse, Do you suggest the elevator or the stairs? Why do you chose these complicated tasks To fill your days asked my sponsor? You think this is beyond my abilities? I didn’t say that, I do believe either you or the giraffe Are likely to get bent out of shape But that is the most obvious of observations What if I told you being disproportionate Is both of our natural states, I asked? I know that too, my darling little lamb. You may be a contrast to the multitude But why make it harder? Why not a ranch with a cathedral ceiling Bay doors even? You are taking out the spirit of adventure, I say Baby, you may have confused frustration With excitement, says my sponsor Yes, but you have forgotten the view. |
A Toast
:goodscore: Here's to those that are hanging on by a fingernail. Here's to those with toes that still wiggle, can giggle, and love like there is no tomorrow ( and posts Just For Today, everyday) Here's to those who know. Here's to those that live long enough to have a miracle. :goodscore: |
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May 11
Out Standing in My Field Trying to remove expectations is like trying to unseed a field; it is damn near impossible until something crops up, though when it does I must act swiftly lest things take root. Tedious as it is weeding the fields of unreasonable expectancy saves me from so much frustration later on. I don’t recognize it, but expectations are like little dictators forever ruling me leaving no room for G-d or direction, not to mention flexibility or change. Tap roots dive for the vein and my life depends on fleet elimination of unsuitable desire. I can want. I can strive. I can not leave expectations to grow in my garden. Screen your comments when you can * STRETCHING Stretching is not equivalent to change Limbering is nice And warms the muscles, body and soul. Over-reaching, over-compensation is trauma It distorts the symmetry And breeds erroneous thinking. Extension beyond the bounds sets me up for a fall I misinterpret touching with finger tips With a firm and able grasp. I don’t step forward because I believe I have a hand on things Failing to see how this is different from an embrace. The sinew tears And the fabric of life is destroyed I lean forward but I go nowhere. |
May 12
Box-a-week Tao I am going through so many changes surrounding the cleaning out and getting rid of process. The flat sided panic that I experience while even attempting the smallest disposal seems impossible. I would deny it if I didn't have the repetition of this experiment to prove it as fact. I have now moved into the part of the illness where I compulsively clean the things that I have emptied in order to avoid facing the next step, the next box, the next mess. This is a two part trap: part 1. If cleaning can absorb all the time I will not be able to do anything else. Part 2. If I can't keep it clean enough then I have an excuse to give up and not empty the next space. I am trying to keep moving without being mean to myself. Because mean is worse than mess. Try not to lose things you never had * CHOICE Growth is my decision I don’t need conflict or catastrophe to bring me to change I choose each day, come what may, to roll out the refuse I am not tempted to leave it in to rot just because the sun is shining Good days are good times to improve How could integrity be retarded by joy? I am not punished into recovery I will never accept a Higher Power who set up a system like that And give wide birth to people who claim their Higher Power did My bottom may have been an inducement to start But choice keeps me coming back. |
May 13
Be That Girl I have tried to protect the investment I made in the past by selling the soul of my future. I arrived self-possessed, a winning girl, but I slid the self from the scene leaving me simply possessed. I gained everything then lost it a piece at a time starting with the parts nearest my heart. I must draw the shards together once more and mend this lovely crystal. The art of living is insured by my action not by grasping at slivers in terror of what slips from my fingers. I am what I have inviolate and all else comes to fruition when I am pleased; when I am myself. Be aware which pens are poison * SOOT I diligently work to remove the soot. The residue from the last time I tried to hot wire my brain When I attempted the short circuit of my safety-thinking I caught my life on fire and flames, though brief, were spectacular. Electric fires are very jarring The burning insulation toxic It leaves bare, stuttering lines crossing and recrossing My stable base, the methods I once used to keep sane, is shot All because I wanted to go joyriding in my thoughts Suspended reality sounds so good but always burst into flame Leaving me with soot removal as a hobby |
May 14
No Stone Left Behind An anchor attaches at the lower extremities stabilizing me, an albatross is the thing weighing me down from the top, it tips me, throws me to the ground. I must remember to choose ferrous instruments over long necked birds. Often it’s not the amount of drag, but where it’s affixed. There are so many variables, so much to think through, yet I often react and pick up what seems as harmless as a flock of sea gulls and turns out to be worse than an iron maiden. Leaving no tern unstoned is bad, but do I really have the time to do it the other way around? Visualize the vapor trails from your words as they fly away from you * CLOCKS When the clock stops I wind it up or replace the battery I have to-----time doesn’t end Because the arms grow slow. The device wears down But the day is not over Even if my internal metronome is bollixed The planets keep revolving. I can’t step off the world It doesn’t stop turning for me I don’t always have to keep my head up But I must always go on. There is no going back I can only remember yesterday I can’t return to it though it’s so close The flowers are still fresh. Sometimes I struggle To keep my hands off the past Those are the days I secure my future And wind the clocks |
May 15
Madame Alexander I am, too naïve; if you show me kindness I will believe you, follow you, obey you, so, I have rules. These rules do not protect me, but they do make a box for me to seal myself inside. Where I will ship myself, stack myself; hide myself so well, that even I do not know. I pull the flaps down and pray not to have to make any real decisions. I fold my arms and close my mind believing I could never adequately open it enough to safely live in the world outside of this closet. Here I sit wondering what to write on this label in order to be left alone all the while longing for true love, a thing never given to a quivering china doll shut up in a carton at the bottom of a wardrobe. Make a suggestion box for your heart * CELEBRATIONS You wore a wrist corsage to the dump? You said to celebrate every activity I retorted to my sponsor Yes, by doing them with purpose. Not everything needs to be a production number Sometimes just showing up is enough Putting to much energy into preparation Can leave you without resources It’s okay to make an appearance Do the simple act and move on That is a celebration in its own way Don’t squander your vitality on the mundane. Do you know what I mean, asks my sponsor? Don’t waste flowers on trash heaps, I answer Yes, and don’t wipe your bottom with poetry I mention this in case you get any ideas! |
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Meeting @ the BFPlanet tonight?... http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2733/...1e8e30777f.jpg |
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If I can remember to show up for it.......I don't know why I have been off the page with this, I apologise to anyone who came looking for a meeting and didn't find it! |
May 16
Life Events in Burlap Two left feet in a gunnysack allows no forward motion and creates only a windmill that screws us into the ground. There is more perspective, front and back, more view, but nothing to do with it, nowhere to go. We are better off as book ends than this awkward foolish pairing. You go your way and I go mine works fine if we are cut lose, if any one person can be free of any other. You offer to change your perspective if I change mine. I smile, almost laugh at the idea of two right feet in a gunnysack and no improvement in sight. This is not grade school, not field day, I must turn to you or you to me and nothing else, no fair is fair, no turn taking. Because my past is not your future and your future is not my past. Face forward on both accounts and then we run the race. Allow your imagination to put on a slideshow for your resistance * THREE ROOSTERS The three roosters came to the meeting To hear themselves crow. The membership purely spectators In the longest, lowest, loudest sobriety competition. Those of us in the fray, we are like picked-on puppies Who learn slowly not to put our heads up To spare our eyes and hearts. The same noise comes repeatedly Suspicion is never aroused The heads nod at all the right places Orchestrated for ego and nothing else. The meeting is closed with a momentary prayer For the still suffering, in and out of the room I pray that will be enough. |
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:byebye: Tommi PS..How does that work again? |
May 17
Underoos Why is it that I store undies I never wear in my panty drawer and leave no room for my favorites? Why is it that I have things in cupboards that have not seen the light of day in years, but they are kept as sacred? I don’t use my storage for me it is saved for obligation to inherited obsession. I live on the fringes of the only life I have; I didn’t question this, didn’t see it for what it really is. I don’t live in my skin only my head. I don’t enjoy today only plan for tomorrow. After years at this address it is time for me to move in. The mortgage is more than paid; it is time to spend my inheritance. Be kind when you win; be kind when you lose * PIROUETTES I turn and spin, the world flashes as I go. I am erect, proud of my self-possession. I can stand the forces of vector rotation Public opinion and gravity. Sobriety has made a dancer out of me. I sprint the stage and take my place. I know the moves and trust, as best I can The choreographer and choreography I feel the wind move on my body as I revolve The blur of existence spreads out before me I can let it pass To spot myself and keep my upright posture The only place that requires my clear and unobstructed view Is the line of sight from my sponsors eyes to mine. |
May 18
Pearly Whites Reaction is a separation, a polarization; it cuts you from me and God from we. Response is a connection, an inclusion; threading a line from you to me and stitching G-d into our pockets. I realize now that any positive connection is an instantaneous link to my Higher Power and can’t help but bring us closer. Tiny feet carry beauty and kindness; tiny teeth tear the fabric of the world to bits. I must let my footwork conduct my life’s work and seal my lips and reserve the dentistry. If you take the cake don’t take it far * DRIVEWAY TIME Layer after layer of blue stack the sky The moon risen and the sun dipping away I wait for the twin lights, the constellation of headlights My ride to the meeting. It will be the entry vehicle to a world of population Leaving behind the galaxy of me, the single star I stand silent and the feeling of fellowship carries the miles Laughter flies the winds of memory And all the old jokes of truth and tribute are fresh And abide with me until the car arrives And we make it all new again. |
Reminder for anyone out there. There is a Friends of Bill meeting Sunday. Select the right Chat Room and password, and join in. We had a short one last week.
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May 19
Who Rang? Examine the instillation of your buttons as a process of discovery for disabling them. Pay attention to the wiring but also to the hardware. Sometimes the advertising is the thing which keeps alive something better off put to rest. Many things are rooted in other pots and have a lifeline from outside of the current host. All the connections and housing should be explored as well as what work the mechanism does once pressed. Is there a gong, tinkling bells? Does it release the wolves from their den or tiger from his lair? Information is a tool which never fails to help me in disassembling the traps and their triggers I must not shy from the gathering. If you reframe the past don’t crop reality * NETWORKS Testing my sponsor when I’m hurt Is like probing for gas with a lit cigar in my mouth If I can’t find a way to douse the cheroot before posing my questions It’s guaranteed I will get an explosive response I need a network They follow me with sand Snatch from me my burning pacifier And save me from sticking my smoldering end where it doesn’t belong We all need a little excitement in our lives But don’t have to become an incendiary device to fill the need I forget that boring isn’t the same as death It just feels that way Some days distance prevents disaster A good support system carries me away To face it on another day. |
May 20
Martinizing The price of upkeep scares me, it daunts me even. I pay the initial cost, I have bitten that bullet of required outlay; the continued charges for maintenance push my face in the mud until my ears clog. Avoiding the need of perpetual responsibility to things, relationships, life, doesn’t change the reality; rather it embeds in my skin a slick denial and an indignant retort to the drycleaners and shoe-shiners of the world. Waste and want play tag inside a misunderstanding of what is required of me; of what life requires in general. I must make quietude, draw a map and find my way to this psychic change; unfortunately all the little voices scream “Yes, you paid the price to see the show, but you don’t make enough to stay!” Check your mileage so you know how far you’ve come * POWER When power arrives It comes complete with a blindfold Mask and lullaby I am blinded to what effect I have Others can not see me Only the unchanging masquerade covering my face All my fears and apprehensions are soothed By the melody singing in my ear I am possessed The hard thump of the bottom reaching up to get me Is my sole hope of release I can’t reason my way back from a trip with power The isolation is too far reaching My senses numbed My thinking biased Salvation as a cold smack is the jolt required Fire takes fire Power takes the same |
May 21
NaCl I work arithmetic instead of telling you to stop. I make a light remark, never take a stand until I have worked the numbers and believe that the weight of suffering is on my side. I store in the cellar the salt I found in my wounds and label it with, names, dates and corresponding critique, all waiting, hoping, I will never need to disclose them, but keeping them accounted for just in case things go badly. I believe there is no chance for error with silence and no wrong when I have backup in the basement, but I need to table the salt and risk my reality. You can’t hurt me worse than I do when I pour old salt and create new wounds. Bang the drum, expect a sound * FROZEN STRAWBERRIES I have them in the freezer, I tell my sponsor I’m sure you do, when are you going to take them out And reenact spring, she retorts. I don’t want to take them out before I’m ready I don’t want them to go to waste. Oh the Excuse Maker, the Staller Are you going to drag all the old chestnuts out of the closet? I thought you were going to defrost the strawberries. Fear, you’re saying, Fear of strawberries is not a sign of stability I ask her? Eat the strawberries or not But it seems to me you didn’t get sober To avoid the sweeter things in life Keeping all your goodness locked up In the deep freeze Destined for frost bite. |
May 22
Inspection My disease paid a discourtesy call on my bourgeoning sobriety. Peeked in to look for cracks in my foundation, weaknesses to exploit. I recognized the patch job I had toyed with would have made the easiest of targets for this eroding thug. I am ever so grateful that I cleaned off all the bricks and made new mortar. Built on bedrock my re-laid block will withstand the indignity of the pounding prodding sickness which used to inhabit this once dilapidated space. I can keep the villain at bay and live my cozy life thanks to a true level and the handsome turn of my trough. Personal knowledge is not the same as group knowledge * SPACE I stand behind the podium And talk about the event horizon Which brought me into these rooms. My audience, other unwitting astronauts, Whose lives, like mine were deconstructed By the Black Hole of addiction Though the time and place may be different The physics of compulsion and allergy Are precise and repetitive Nodding heads affirm my calculations To be accurate with the vectors And trajectories of their own experience I conclude, with the gratitude of a reassembled life And pray, with gravity For my feet to stay on the ground. |
:fyi:Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
Have you heard that expression? Does it make sense to Y/you? |
May 23
The Delano’s Indifference is the backbone of power. It is a state of faithlessness, not infidelity, but rank apathy, saving every ounce of ardor for the prize you seek. I thought I was the prize and I am; I’m just no longer yours. Cast aside for the leviathan and the miscreants I wonder what I could have done to hold your attention, the answer is nothing. Nothing could be done. Blinded by the ambition of heroism the struggle is the goal and no gem no matter its brilliance can check your drive toward a place in the epic narrative. Tis the hero’s lament to save every life except your own. Bend with the tracks or don’t take the train * SEASONAL EXPECTATIONS If I am out of sync with the way the world turns I can be nothing but disappointed I arrive with ice skates on the hottest summer day And grieve the loss of spring I shiver in my sandals and ponder The need for a windshield scrapper, the autumn so long past I must orchestrate my moods and movements With the evolution and revolution about me I will learn to sing with the doves in the morning And the coyotes come the moon I can spin with the stars And grow with the grass I don’t need to counter-balance life If I learn to bend with the tides It all comes around again; |
May 24
Balustrade Just because you appeared from the dark doesn’t make you a wizard. Just because you make the world safe for mankind doesn’t make you Hercules, nor does your power and foresight make you his father. Your resourcefulness and guile doesn’t make you Ulysses. And just because you spend so much time strapped upon that cross doesn’t make you, well, we all know the rest of that refrain. Human is what you are whether I see that in you or not. Human is a blessing even if it feels to me a curse. I need the superhuman strength you seem to offer but I must live in the world of what is real. I want to be stolen away to the safety of your lair and not live on my feet and fight for my life. I have to stop wishing to be your captive and work harder at simply being your friend. If I can let you down off your pedestal perhaps I could then climb down off mine. Inscribe your heart’s values on your mind * MYTHIC ADULT My mythic adult is seen by the crowds around me Never is the charade exposed Close inspection has been suspended So we can keep each other’s secrets. Circulating through the crowd These children are impoverished From carrying this load of pretense Dropping this burden is a risk far too great. Exposure invites attack Stand tall, act brave, unreasonable expectations, Are the water which moves the wheel The power that generates this ongoing play. Hamlet is dead, yet I reprise the past daily, Daily I watch my fellows do the same I mimic a ghost I never knew in life Did it ever live or is it only a mythic adult? |
May 25
Princess No More Decent is less obvious than accent and so it is with dethroning; those who put you upon the gilt alter with much aplomb feel no qualm in taking you down with not as much as a word or a grunt. The wind has changed and your reign is over, the poor startled girl is suddenly in the street. For a scepter is not a club and why fight for a throne, which is proven to be nothing more than a straight backed chair once separated from its right relationships. The horror of unexpected common status is for the young bride an issue of safety and trust not of ego or presumption. Who is she without the Prince, the Knight, she is Princess No More. Take time to wipe unshed tears * NO GOLD STARS I look at my chart Then my chest There are no gold stars I long for the affirmation Of my Great And seemingly endless struggle I watch the movements of those shiny shoes And hope to be awarded With the gummed insignia When I hang by a thread I desire corroboration Of foil cutouts to assure me I have done the right I have stayed alive Punishment I fear less than lack of consolation But no one truly knows my bravery And if I want these paper emblems I can just go and buy my own. |
May 26
If Garfunkel Was Here Speak of the dead and paint the living. Paint them in a good light when you can and into a corner when you have to. Read the books of future generations rather than acting as the arrogant, who attempt to write these volumes. Expunge nothing leave it all on view, but move past it after taking in the implications. Water flows under the bridge until it collapses then it carries the bridge away. So, speak of the dead don’t drown them, paint the living don’t stain them, look to the future don’t dictate to it and let the water run. Rinse off your first impressions * FREQUENTLY When my daydream gets so threadbare I no longer use it I must turn to other sources. When I cannot conjure on my own And elucidation makes me cross-eyed I must turn to HP. I have puttered and prolonged The way to naming this legendary And fabulous enigma. I drew out even longer Any desire for close association With the same. I have milled with the millstone And surfed in the whirlpool Drug my feet and thrown a fit. This only stalled the inevitable result, Naming and interaction is the need And now is the time I have a Higher Power And I chose to call it Frequently. |
May 27
ROUSs Time passes, I clock it and count it and use its passage to construct a defense or accusation depending on my need. I use the calendar to condemn you because my feelings do not have sufficient leverage for my mental calculations. To prize disappointment from this scene I watch the water-clock waiting for adequate drops to lift the flood gate and free me from your unfulfilled promise and my unrealized hope. How long is too long to stand in a quagmire? Why do I feel the need for permission to leave the quicksand? Match persistence with cheer * DOLL Why is your face all red, asked my sponsor? I didn’t get my way, I responded And this crimson appearance is the result? You see that it is I was very careful about what I wanted And worked hard to be reasonable. And Baby , you were, you did nothing wrong Your ego was in check And you kept your expectations in proportion Said my sponsor Then why didn’t it work out my way? I only have a sad and simple answer for you The results had nothing to do with you. Your wants, expectations or desires, The whole experience boils down to only one thing It wasn’t that type of party, Doll. Oh. |
Good morning LeftWriteFemme and all that come to wehre the light is kept on...:bath:
"It wasn’t that type of party, Doll" Hmmmwhere have I heard that qoute before... ROUSs / rodents of unusal size ? Sweetness?:hockey: |
6PM EST Time, Friend of....room in Chat
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Sunday night at 6PM EST. If nobody comes in by 6:15 then it's bye bye till next Sunday night at 6PM There is a room inside "Chat" Called Friends of Bill, Lois and Jimmy" or is it Jimmy and Lois , Lefty? PS. thanks for posting Sober on the Way to Sane inspirations and the poetry below it every day. Works from two books posted every day..Amazing. Have a great day everyone. Tommi |
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Yes, Syr, Rodents of Unusal Size. I am always amazed at the things you know!!!!! All my love, the girl |
May 28
Estranged After long years I have made my own acquaintance, friendship is on a far distant shore. I know who I am and can recognize myself on the street or in a crowded room. I have a legitimate sense of wariness of the afore mentioned persona, nothing too nasty, just a discomfort. She is not someone I would bring home, maybe not even share a meal with but I can stand her, minus intimacy, minus any deep empathy. I feel an awkwardness in acknowledging her, strange as this might sound, she is no one to be ashamed of, not a truly bad actor and yet the reports say she doesn’t live up to her potential and I have it on personal authority that she actually surpasses it on most days and keeps this a closely held confidence. And there it is, I know her secrets but I don’t keep her. This is what makes me strange and her stranger. Catch your reflection in the eyes of a friend * THE ONE I BOUGHT There are fairy tales I never gave credence to Multiple bear stories don’t move me Cats with footwear have not warranted a second thought. True love----------- Now that one I still buy Hook line and sinker. Work hard--------- And true love will fix the rest That is what I have always believed. The evil spell I have walked under During my sad little life will be broken Only by the durable and fulfilling love of my betrothed. Each time this plan fell through The blame was left to the wrongness of the match But not the wrongness of the plot . Anytime I work to be restored to sanity by one person I have displaced a rightful power And thrown myself to the sea. |
May 29
Queens: More than a Borough My drama is bigger than yours. My drama can kick your drama’s ass. Well maybe not, but it sure is kicking mine. Like a rain soaked grave, I stand in this muddy hole, sides slick, unassailable and count the piles of tragedy ,all the while knowing it will bury me not facilitate a climb out. I attempt to display the face of comedy and yet the mask can not fool me, my true audience. I think if I can keep it all up on stage I will be alright, but then the point of theater is that everything is carried away in the minds of all who come and watch. Silence doesn’t help either for there is little worse than a bad mime and doing it well just makes me Lillian Gish. So, back to Bohemia for isn’t it all a rhapsody, though it would all be so much better if Freddy Mercury weren’t dead. String your dreams together and let them fly * HOSTAGE DOLL A doll stands wedged between two mailboxes Naked and exposed, The edge of the road passing her by. She is there to pay for my self-loathing I throw my treasures in the air As skeet to be shot and shattered. Hate is the obnoxious microbe Which sours my digestion And rids me of nutrition and affection. I purge love and tenderness I rip the covers from my playthings And leave them to bleed. I hide in my self-destruction I put garish displays streetside And cry my tears alone. I cannot ransom to pay the price of fear I must bring in the broken babies And put hate out on the curb. |
May 30
RAID !!! So, you stepped into a hornets nest and now how am I to respond? Blame you? No, I don’t think so, I mean you are the exterminator and some stings are to be expected, but this is far beyond even your honed ability to anticipate wasps. Cry, running from this ambush? Again, I decline I still want you after the war is over, even if I can not fight by your side. Protest, I try to refrain, I never want to make your job harder but I don’t want to leave the impression I have no concern, so I walk the fine line. Standing on the sidelines is harder than you think, I am helpless and lonely, not as exciting as your work and no comfort from this distance. I must hold my breath while you provoke the bees. Stack your honest intentions as a hedge against a cold winter * TROJAN PERSON I feel confused by the difference between love and war The intensity and rush are too much For my frazzled and betrayed emotions to sort out. I feel like a Trojan person I have all these children holdup inside And they are waiting for peace and safety So they can come out and sleep For a time I allowed them to leave For bathroom breaks one at a time This was not a workable solution. When these tykes would have a look around They started to set fires and break hearts Each child makes life a battleground Fights and claws her way across the living landscape. I must heal my insides from the center of my thoughts Not send fragments of me to blend With the unfamiliar and hostile world Only when I can stand together With my mind and heart safe within my being Will I see a way to make love on my own terms And leave war alone. |
I light a candle for all those needing it. And in Thanks.
I know that most candles are done on another thread...But I wanted to bring this one here...I will also add it to the light a candle thread..For those who need it. I light this candle and ask that the energy go to all who need it. In hops that everyone will feel and recieve all it has to offer them. I also light in in thanks for all the help and guidance and unconditional friendship this thread has given to everyone who frequents here. May those who have helped....Recieve special blessings needed for your life for your selflessness! http://i294.photobucket.com/albums/m...ndleprayer.gif |
May 31
Black & Dedication The brand of equipment endorsed by my Higher Power is built so that my hand is clasped inside lest I feel alone or unaided. A closed mouth and an open mind work very well when I can manage either of them and Step 10 works when I can’t. I am usually the problem in my life but I am always the solution. Others may change and contribute; I am the one and only one, responsible for my happiness. Dropping blame from my vocabulary and adding responsibility, learning to differentiate between what is mine and what is yours; these tools are keys and they open worlds of possibility to me. Also they shut out the demons of wrong thinking, wrong acting and desperation, which used to plague me. There are still greater tools I yearn for but like everything I must be patient and build my muscles to handle the heavier machinery. Dine with hope * GULPING The plug that lodges in my throat From too much, too fast Causes the anxiety to rise in me. The panic fills my contracting muscles Into rock solid revolt. I can’t live, is the predictable result Gulping attention, acclaim, excitement, sex, Does the same thing My heart clots and my personality stops in mid-flow Everything in carefully chosen, well chewed bites Makes the process proceed My life works along workable paths If I stay away from oversized freight I can never swallow myself whole Why would I keep trying to imbibe giants like desire? |
June 1
I’m not Brian I thought life was based on a system of ‘I will suffer and that will exempt you’. Then I would be horrified when you suffered, after I had already done so ahead of you. In an attempt to ease my dismay I would look to see who had broken the pact, you or me. Had I not endured sufficiently to protect you? Had you left the safety of the umbrella of sanctuary? Panic gives birth to blame and blame of course births nasty biting things that run loose and bury in all the tender spots. Now, the goals I tend are to end the breeding of those sharp and painful beasties, stop laying my neck upon the alter and start telling better jokes. Scramble cracked perceptions * DANCE OF DEATH Honeyed words pour from lips Shades of doubt color my mind Stained glass eyes look to blank walls And picture the gallery of imagination Attempting to sell it for hard currency Sirens sing from the throats of mute men The screams which rise in me fall on deaf ears Paradox feeds controversy but it needn’t Evolution from a cesspool is repugnant Though process is steady made Inertia is violent if that is from whence it came Afterbirth is always bloody and humans not always nice I must live and heal as others climb up and slide down I must keep the beat and forget the dance of death. |
June 2
The Attention Tax Paying attention is the price exacted for living in this society. A taxation which is like a leach; it takes the life force, diverts my brain waves, claims the water rights to my river of thought. What is left I use to wash off what I can, never quite managing to feel clean or clear. I sit in the mud puddle still unsure if I understand what just happened; harboring a dark fear of the wave to come. Cultivate creative ambition * BOTTLE THE ACID My sponsor said “bottle the acid” and I did I sat back in smug reflection until the plumbing backed up I grabbed the fast solution and poured it down the drain. My sponsor smiled as I learned ---- The baser things will eat my life away too. I can never just decant power and expect it to clean sweep The clogged pathways in my recovery. Sloshing caustic medicine into open orifices brought me here I long for the ease of a liquid resolution In the end, I must clean the pipes myself. The traps are simpler to cleanse the less I’ve lied Telling myself I don’t have to get my hands Or heart dirty is the biggest lie of all. |
June 3
Soul Chiggers If you can seed apprehension deeply in a generation, you can reap disillusionment for a hundred years. Bent foresight twists hindsight. Admiring ignorance, signs death’s warrant. Evil splintered to a thousand slivers burrows under the skin without killing their host. Death delayed spreads destruction along with melancholy; a septic contagion if ever there was one. And how do we fight this systemic blight? It is embedded in the water, the air, the mind, and try what I might; I can’t seem to live without any of these. Chiggers of the soul feed and breed no matter how I scratch and chew. I am raw, but still infested. How do I kill what is in me without killing the me? Step up to indecision * THE WORM Because there is never enough punishment For those who inflict pain, I punish myself Only I can tell if the depth of the pain is a match Only I can judge when enough is enough. This is the turn of the drunken worm-- Who lives in my brain The belief that what began in pain Must end there too. Even now in recovery I persist in hurting myself In a thousand tiny ways, setting trap after trap, To catch the perpetrators, making my heart a mine field A place unfit for me to live I must sober the worm And let myself off the hook. |
June 4
Head Wringing I have my say, though my fear is that I constantly repeat myself; very much the way a crow calls the same thing endlessly, but it all has different meanings to the crow. I would offer code keys to my readers if I could lay my hands on one. My mind whispers that the soothing people get from my work is like the calm induced by chanting monks. Possibly it is more the actor’s trick of reading repetitive lines each time putting the emphasis on a different word; a way of squeezing all the juice from nonsense. I jot ideas swearing these lines are to be found somewhere in my previous work, perhaps whole pages are redundant. Finally I stop this fight reminding myself I have but one voice and what I accuse myself of as similarity might merely be my style. Find satisfaction in the middle, too * OPEN WINDOWS I roll down the window in the rain Hoping reality will soak in with the droplets I tilt my face as I leave the car And let the water shower my features. The downpour is the jolt to living for which I have prayed I stand on my lawn and rinse the day out of my hair I clear my brain in the fresh rainwater. The driving rain pounds the house and trees But I feel massaged and cared for My skin reflexive, teaches my mind to absorb and hydrate I turn my thoughts to Greater Powers. Even if the doors have been closed I can open the windows And let the rain come in. |
June 5
The Hope Diamond My guess is the same god that wants me stupid also wants me to suffer. I ask myself what could be all powerful about that? I wonder is G-d like a friend or a lover? I carefully chose my friends whereas my lover found me against my greatest plans and well thought rules. And if this is to be like marriage, may I file for divorce if things go astray? Or am I stuck with this match, like I am stuck with my deformed ear there underneath hat or fringe of hair? I never thought of my relationship with G-d like a necklace I could take on and off at will, though the more I study it seems this beautiful thing enhances my beauty if all is right and will strangle me if it gets hung up. Sort genius from fortune * RED ROSES From tight green buds come beautiful roses. From small verdant places I blossom too. I open to richness unexpected and fullness unbelieved. I look at crumpled laundry Never anticipating the look of clean sheets blowing on the line Doors I perceive as blocked by vast boulders Are thrown open by willingness. Who I am today is no one I recognize I didn’t see myself coming. I write though I can’t spell I love though my heart is broken. I think though my mind is warped And I trust though the amulet is long shattered. Promise is not a laid out plan but the continuum of change I can fight it or let it carry me where it goes. |
June 6
Eggshells and Bethlehem A stable is a place to keep a horse and in fairytales a place to birth a baby, but stable is the story I told myself about you. Solid, a model of strength and here you are a tripod, upright only if the pressure is evenly applied. I blame myself for lopsided need and try to find a way to keep this coupling standing. Stripped down to minor contact I wonder if you actually remember me and then I wonder if I remember myself. This is what is at stake, this is the trophy I lose when I fall for you and you fall down. Where is the girl I worked so hard to create? Broken eggshells litter the nest and I look for the chick I used to be. I fear losing you, I cry at the thought of losing us, I die at the loss of me. Graft beauty to stability * IN THE MEADOW Being the only tree in the meadow often leaves me feeling lonely I tell myself of the camaraderie I imagine in the forest These images are more poetic than real. I believe in community and support I think of the woods as a place apart From the complications of my exposed life. I shrug off the very real competition and struggle From sharing every inch of root space And the search for each square of sunlight. There is much joy in being an individual An eco-system of diversity allows me to fully develop I can spread my branches and my roots. I can offer shelter to those in need of my reaching and my shadow Tender flowers and tired birds find me a haven I have unique abilities in this field Space can feel lonely But it is full of possibilities. |
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