Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 2

A LITTLE EXTRA HOPE


“What will you do with a little extra hope?” asked my quizzical sponsor.
“What good is a little hope?” my retort.
“A little hope got you sober. What can you do with a little more? Could you take out your dreams and fly them on a breeze? Could you throw yourself into a wave of intention and see if you can ride it out? Breathe easier, smile broader? Take my hand tighter and walk the road awhile longer before you run for refuge? Now let me ask you a better question. What couldn’t you do with a little more hope?”
“Fail.”


Wash as a meditation.
*

Sackcloth

Tragedy is a tale unfinished.
Life is far longer than calamity can endure.
I will not give up, not even when hope is lost.

For life carries forward;
more is filled with optimism.
Threads break, but the fabric is woven still,
flowing off the living loom waiting to be used.

I will cut my swath and fashion a garment to wear
and if sometimes it is filled with ashes
I will sit and grieve
all the while knowing that this is never the stories end.

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 3

SEAM ALLOWANCE


The space given and taken, the space used to bind us and sew us fast.
The permission for humanness and the need for seams to make us whole. The narrow margin, a shoulder on which I lean, the slender strip a place of refuge.

Darts are snipped to hug the curves; I bend to fit to life.
Our nearness; being my own part and part of more.
Planning, and a pattern cut to order with allowances made for fraying and fragility, allow me to feel woven into a web of what is and still hope for more. The unfinished garment is taking shape, easing and stretching.

And before my eyes, pins held between the teeth of God.


Keep strong words on a high shelf you have access to.

*
Have Faith
Strange and wonderful tragedy
takes you away from me
and I don’t know how it is that you return,
but you do and I thank God,

But I’m not sure it was God’s idea
that you went away or that you came back,
though, I am sure, He missed you every bit as much as I did.

I revolve the freshness of you in my mouth like candy;
I swirl, but don’t want to crack open.
Honeymoons are for people who live comprehendible lives;
we fly to each other and cling like raptors plummeting to the ground.

You leave your mark upon me I do the same for you;
we are none the worse for the wear.
I stand in the gush from the hydrant,
soaked in the pleasure, forgoing the safety.

The world may burn down again tomorrow,
I remember that it has before, but I am wiser for the singeing
and weathered with soot in my eyes and charcoal piled roundabout my legs,
yet I’m still standing and you are back from the dead
and I think of you as Lazarus.

And now we will live the comedy
for life is what lay ahead,
we took the hit of death before its time
and so must be off the hook for the rest.

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 4

BELLS



The bells are ringing but no one sings. There are no peals of laughter and that’s just fine, for pleasure is not the only response to sound. Shock and distain are other options, too. I have what I want in relationship to the buzz in my ear, equal opportunity attitude, pro and con. Some songs bring joy when they end. I have to lower my expectation of pleasure and value my distaste for tinkling sounds or any other preordained sweetness.


See through your problems.
*

Jeopardy
Today I tore down the isolation booth.
I didn’t live in there exactly;
sometimes I stuffed God in there
and went out for a ride.
I left that shack stand for far, too long;
a testimony to ill conceived,
ham-handed, control freaks everywhere.

I said all I wanted was some peace,
but a vacuum is not tranquility
and escape won’t substitute either.

Since the live studio audience has gone home
and the house lights are dimmed,
I feel pretty foolish for playing
round after round on my own.

This game was never any fun
and the sponsors were death merchants and scavengers
whose interest lay in destruction and nothing else.

I must not cast aspersions, I didn’t care
that the contest was merely an upright pit
with a lethal pendulum, I used it as a hideout and a lair,

A place whose walls
I could keep between me and my Higher Power
and an activity I could depend on
to keep me free from living a life.

It all came to the ground today;
I walk over the splinters and shards,
I know there has to be a better game
and I’m ready to play.

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 5

WHAT IS PAST


The past cannot hold me in a loving embrace. I run too often looking for affection and recognition in things long dead and purportedly buried. I return to the ghoulish obsession of digging up old hates and sorrows, longing for support and finding only the cause of the ulcers in my soul. I wallpaper the crumbling facade not wanting to cover it up but to hold it together, trying to unify something, which is totally shattered. When I view it with a sober eye, the past is nothing but a slideshow under a strobe light. The pulse triggers the impulsive belief that it was all real when, in truth, it was the lie I survived. No life existed in the past and only now is there air to breathe. The past is all vacuum and I don’t need to be sucked away.


Take an enemy’s inventory and don’t give it back.


*
MCBuddLake


Barefoot smokers sit downstairs
chatting on cell phones as I wait.
Wait for the Doctor to come and tell me what?

Tell me that I am ill or hail
based on a hammer hit on the knee
and a deep look into my eyes.

I will leave this place hours late
for a life I barely understand
but am grateful to be living.

Like one of the dancing flowers from Fantasia
I am swept downstream,
but an amazing journey even while I wait
in this six by eight room.

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 6

REMEMBERING


Remembering is the oxygen my brain pumps to my soul. Remembering gives me mobility and traction. Everything in my life that is positive depends on my remembering. It keeps apathy at bay and complacency locked in some far off cupboard. Remembering gives today the misty sweetness I have grown to love. I can live to my potential and enjoy the process, watch misery move away. I can dream the future every night because I remember who I am and what I am capable of. Never can I be haunted, memory keeps me from reactionary visitation. Though some fear the past, I know holding it in a close embrace allows me to dance to the rhythm of truth.


Think of names for your sneakers.
*

What Oliver Could not Know


One of the complications of being an orphan
is not learning about the failings and foibles
which visit themselves on all parents.

Living estranged from God has this same blind spot.
When you live with someone day in and day out
you understand their dimensions;

Depravation causes celebrity
and the casting of very large shadows
in some very odd places.

The intimate knowledge of a guardian
allows for relaxation and experimentation.
Isolation creates an overload of anticipation;

Fear of risk and the yearning for attention
swing a pendulum to the point of weaponry.
Familiarity is a breeding ground,
which means many things grow.

Life in a vacuum is devoid of life
and nothing grows up.

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 7

FRUSTRATING IMPROVEMENT


Improvement is frustrating, lonely and yet exhilarating. It somehow starts with moths in the stomach and ends up with that warm soup satisfaction. Struggle, waiting, followed by further struggle; progress is made by tugging one string then the other. It is hard to accept scaling the ropes alone, but tottering assent is always this way. Once at the top I realize how easily I could slide to the bottom, sometimes friction is all that keeps me up. Establishing a new altitude is challenging; I must ground myself in a new way. My talents hinder and aid me. I must open the correct doors in my mind and avoid the traps in the floor. Stuttering through requirements and obligations I transform but only slowly, earning each drop of comfort from a job just done.


Think smart, speak clearly.
*

Wasilla


I don’t appreciate those who wear ignorance
as a fashion accessory,
but then I have to work too hard,
not to wear intolerance as a badge of courage.

So what can I really say, while I’m on this topic,
what kind of game is “Playing Dumb”
where do we get with that as the vehicle?

I don’t know why grown folks
act like corralled farm animals,
nor do I comprehend the idea of salvation
through unnecessary sacrifice,

But here I am in a society riddled with it
and I try not to drink in the face of this idiocy.
this is a job for which I am unprepared.

I have spent so much time feeling my internal lacking,
that when facing the siphon created by the general public
I start looking for a glass and some ice to tinkle,

I have tried this before and it solved nothing.
I can climb under this pile of human failing
or try to crawl on top.

What I really must learn
is to look at it without a drink in my hand.

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 8

ALARM CLOCK


The dream-killer plays its harsh tones. I pull my lids, so unwilling to wake. The tip of my tongue, dry to leather, welcomes the wet of my toothbrush. I grin a foaming smile. I run through my night's travels; I mentally wonder the highlights, ponder the implications and meanings. Dressed, with open door breeze in my face, I leave nighttime escapades for daytime pandemonium. The only thing that won’t leave me is the last image before the gong sounded.


Tie paper dolls of people into books that may help them.
*


The Problem with the Peter’s Principle

Is there a harsher lesson than learning
that love is not the same as trust?
This is a fact all the more painful because it is true.

Affection is not the safeguard of sanctity.
I am learning to steel myself to survive ardor
and its blatant disregard for honesty
and still I am caught by surprise
when the slight of hand is revealed.

I think of love as a building material,
most use it as a method of clear-cut
or a fire which extirpates whatever I hold dear.

I can trust people to be who they are
and do what they do,
but if I have to spend my time watching for the ordeal
I have no time for the ecstasy.

[Nat]

Hi my name is Natalie and I've realized Bill is more than just an aquaintance. Glad this thread is here.