Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

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.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 21

WHAT’S MINE IS MINE


I don’t always know how to get the dog off the baby. The attacks are often sudden and always swift. My shock at the reality delays my response, falters my steps and fogs my mind. What should I do to disengage this assault? What can I do that won’t make things worse? How can I resolve this now? The pain is almost unimaginable but yet all too familiar. It all comes down to ownership. I must admit this baby is me. I have to face facts; this dog is my pet, I have fed, nurtured and groomed him and now I have to put this dog to sleep.


Explore the air not just the dirt.
*


A Thousand Windowed House

I am like a house with a thousand windows.
When I am lit up inside
you can see all the way through;

When I go dark
the reflection of the world around me is all
that is visible when you look my way.

My sprawling mind is what creates this effigy of me.
A tribute when I am well tended
and a fire trap when I neglect my duties.

If I learn to celebrate in all the rooms
this house is my home,
so I must practice; dance and sing in the hallways.

So I can pirouette into the rooms with full voice.
For what is the point of being a house
with a thousand windows, if I don’t live there?