Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 23



Do Not Enter



Putting all the mess securely behind that door is no protection. If the keys are changed will I be able to open it? If the locks retumbled will I crack the combination? Like a demon sealed within a womb emergence is inevitable either upon this mortal plain or cellularly encoded and reborn at a later date. Prison is what holds captive the innocent, evil is always at liberty. Walling off my parts and pieces severs limbs and destroys thinking. Loads of cheesecloth is what I need; filter and refilter, catching all debris. Putting the toxic things to better use and making myself free.






Respect experimentation

*

ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT

Arrested development was bad enough
The living death sentence it imposes
Is completely unacceptable
My childhood ran down the hill
Away from the mountain of confusion
Which is life in this society

My ability to mature was damaged
And what I learned to do was mutate
I could move laterally but never grow up.
I became the goose being grown for its liver
All the honk and squawk in the world
Couldn’t change my plight

I don’t have to understand how I was let out
Of the prison of addiction
As long as I don’t go back
I’ll never fear breaking out in handcuffs
Or getting locked in my crib.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 24




The Tide in Texas



I cannot tell you of my pain, how the liars took me off my land, how my heart lay shattered all around, how I’m so foolish and left in town. I cannot show you the big red ball, which to me is a shame or how it bobs and sways or how the tail of it hangs out of reach and taunts me all the day. But growing up to face the facts and finding my strong legs has put me to another tact and sucks the mud away. Sharing my disappointment and my grief is like adding ballast to the boats. It lifts us all instead of sinking me. Not much of a price to pay.






Cruise your assets


*

RENTING JOY

I cannot buy happiness
No matter how much money I spend,
No matter how hard I work,
I can never pay bliss off on layaway.

The angles of escape for glee are phenomenal
I see runaway emotions and concede ownership
When opportunities arise for satisfaction
I pay the fare and take the trip.

The boat isn’t mine to keep
But the tour is forever in my heart.
I can’t take it home and bury it in the yard
I need to enjoy each measure while the music plays.

I remunerate for time in proximity
Delight arrives and stays as long as it likes
I linger at the table and enjoy my desert
Leasing elation is an occasion of celebration.

Living moment to moment
Has given me this chance
So I take it.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 25



For Want of Frith


I feel like I am standing on a trap door, every flex in my footing triggers insecurity. With my arms spread wide, I think the wiser move might be to hold them to my sides. For if the little square did give way my arms might be sheered off with no time served for the tears I’ve cried or the blood now shed sprinkled on the earth. Step from this I tell myself and do not make delay for all the ground is not a trap nor all the world a stage. But is it not the trade in pain that sticks me to this spot and keeps me here for all my life just waiting for the drop.







Sweep a path to your goals



*

UTILITY OF EMOTION

I plug into the utility of my emotions
These utilities aid my life as all utilities do.
The duel prong of anger serves to light me up
And gives me strength to set boundaries.

The four line clip cord of pain allows me to keep in touch
With my Higher Power, my friends and my fellows.
I have nothing to share if I can’t stay real about my pain
.
Fear is hard to contain and is carefully piped
Explosions of fear can start so easily,
It’s a good thing its foul odor can be smelled in the air.

The co-axial cable of joy screws neatly into the back of my mind
And gives me delight,
Color and sound are the privileges of sobriety.

Emotions are plainly utilitarian
But they help me survive
And make living into a life.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 26


Living as a Megaphone


He whispers in my ear, I part my lips and let it all run out. Vacant tube of a thing, his words pour through me nothing to stem the flow, no diversions, no catch basin. He hides behind me, the bully that he is. I stand with rings painted bright concentric, bold. I am nothing; I know it and don’t need him to tell me, my inactions speak louder than his words. He is not the one who bore right through my core; he is just the little worm who is living there secure. I will have to purge him out to be his megaphone no more.





Protect your awareness


*

OPTICAL ILLUSION

From the right angle a hat pin can appear
Taller then the Empire State Building
I can skew my perspective to such an extreme
Or let my disease do it to me.

I can believe myself to be other than I am
The sweetest, kindest, smartest quickest,
Smallest, slowest, lowest, meanest.
I can see myself as all this and more.

As long as I squint with one eye
And look at only half of an issue
I can play the parts and act as if
These things are true.

I can even get others to play along
I can make fantasy fact if I lower the floor
I can die in the basement, many do.

I can turn my face from science
And be the center of all that spins
Or climb the stairs to ground level.

I can turn my mind to facts and fractions
Leave my better-than, less-than universe
And see the height of everything
And stand tall with my eyes open.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 27


I am not an Island



Upon finding myself alive I decided to throw my life back into the sea. I was not living on this dry and sandy shore. The baking sun does nothing to improve me. I was dis-engorged onto the beach, but never belonged there. I tried to see myself as evolving, tried desperately to sprout some legs. Sucked air through my gills and attempted to sing, but I am not ready for this today. Perhaps this is my future, the way the current will carry me that I can’t yet tell. I do know I need the water on my scales and pressure in my lungs right now. I do not know what tomorrow brings or what I am capable of just that I will not fault myself for not having been born a dove.







Remember that time passes


*


COLD AND FLU SEASON

The spiritual cold and flu season is upon me,
I am awash in reaction and confusion.
I have been overexposed to the dry thinking
And barking orders of the cough
So associated with this disability.

My eyes swell and blur with my refusal to accept reality
The tickle of discomfort from inhaling disagreeable ideas
Is small in comparison with the nausea I suffer when I swallow
Every line put forth from my dizzy and congested mind.

There is no pill to dissuade my symptoms
I must raise the heat on this inertiac little bug
Parasites breed in the stagnant water of my paralysis.

If I move in my sobriety, sweat a little and flush my system
I should be able to shake this insidious germ
Then I can reach my hand out to the people
Who caught the spiritual flu from me.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 28




Chock Full of Nuts


I am not a coffee maker. I come from a long line of non-coffee drinkers and I don’t drink it myself. I made the coffee for my home group once and was asked not to do it again. This is when I realized my service talents must lay elsewhere, and they do. I am a good sponsor for those who want what I have or at least want to attempt what I am trying to get toward. I am a good representative. I can carry the wishes of my group to the district. I am learning to share my story and carry the message and hope to do it well. So, my question to you is to what service do you most naturally bend?





Save a key from your past


*

PASTRY

Like French pastry--sobriety gets richer with each layer
As I investigate these layers I approach the buttery center
The fat seeps through the years
Making boundaries crisp and intimacy velvety.

Ingredients which ordinarily wouldn’t mix
Somehow blend and counter point one another in a flaky shell
Fruits and nuts improve every bite.

Though there are times which are a bit crumbly
Most of the structure is strong and invention skillful
Pastry and sobriety are compositions of strength and brilliance
Which are meant to be taken internally.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 29



When I rise up and when I lay down



In order to be happy with you I have to learn to be happy without you. I gasp at the pain of it and desperately wish that the above statement were not true, but alas, you are gone in a way that I can never reclaim you and to hold on to what of you is still tentatively available I must release my frightened grasp. A wisp of smoke is not the bonfire of our past, but it is what remains and I breathe it in as best I can. Immediately I realize I am holding on again. I breathe you out, let you go. I want to run screaming throwing you from my bonds, yet another of my attempts at control. So, now it’s time to pray. Not a prayer to get my way, not a prayer to make you stay, not a prayer to make you gone, just a prayer to live on my own. G-d help me please to live my life, please guide me away from strife. I am lost and can’t find my way, Father, hold me til the light of day.





Putty the cracks in your hopes

*

SHIMMER

The water ruffles over metallic sheen
Lap after lap screen the view
And still the gilt reflection shines in my eyes.

Hypnotic, the undulance pulls me near
I stand on the edge, gaze then gawk
I follow the underwater movement and iridescent tremolo

I forget place and time, I lose sight of the fact
Gold isn’t the only thing that shimmers
Sometimes that glint is just a fish
.
Life is full of fins and fantasy
My sponsor suggests--I stop looking for my life
In a wishing well.