Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 10



Oh the Wells Fargo Wagon



Tying myself to one rail of a set of railroad tracks gets me the same results as tying myself to the other. Swapping one chemical fix for another is like changing my socks in a rainstorm, nothing dry will come of it. Not seeing potential harm does not eliminate the harm. Like a child with my hands pressed firmly over my eyes I yell, “You can’t see me,” and run headlong into disaster. Whether the train comes and makes a mess or not I make my own soup Ducky and must get on track by staying off the rails.




Go relax on the porch of your imagination

*
WILD

When I run wild through the rain
My hair streaming behind me
Water fleeing my face
I see with my heart
The thousand other rains
Pouring from my past.

How I peel from me the soaking luggage
Covering my naked pain
Nothing drives me to the cozy retreat
Of my bed like the humid chill
Of an early fall drizzle.

I slip my trembling skin between the comfort
And the comforter, flex my toes,
Towel my hair, wipe scenes of lost love
From my pale, pale soul.
Leaves rush my gutters, clog my mind.

I see the change in me as I turn heel to heel.
Trees spinning bare in a blank wet world,
I know this ever relived fluid, recycled life.

[RockOn]

Sherry, your writing here hits the nail on the head:

"Swapping one chemical fix for another is like changing my socks in a rainstorm, nothing dry will come of it."

Hope things are good with you.

This past Tuesday and Wednesday were rough at work. Not the actual work but a noisy, very noisy women in cubicle beside me. Yesterday was better. This really gets to me sometimes when I am trying to concentrate but I love my job, specifically the technology I am working in, what I am getting to do ... plus a terrific supervisor. Yesterday it was 11:00 before I knew it ... that is always an indicator to me I am enjoying myself. Regarding the noise on previous days, it was about about sticking the earplugs in deep and accepting life on life's terms. If the earplugs are not enough, I put on my headphones and listen to some Led Zepplin tunes. Two of my women friends at work, who are terrific cooks, have been feeding me all week. They see the situation I am trying to tolerate and what is going on. Becky also made me a cake. Have you ever heard of a "sweet milk cake?" It is a wet cake and oh my gosh, the best cake I have ever eaten in my life. I ate every bit of it in two days except the large hunk I gave my buddy, Jerry. He loved it too. Becky and Rosemary always feed people at work as a comfort mechanism. I have figured out it is their way of showing people they care ... it is not just me they cook for. They put the food in the refrigerator with my name on it, then send me an email that morning. I appreciate them so much but I had difficulty buttoning my pants yesterday morning. I need to back off the goodies this weekend - cannot stand too tight clothes.

There was an older guy at the noon meeting on Labor Day (Monday) who had time and relapsed for one day on Sunday. He shared about it when it was his turn. I knew when I sat down one chair over from him at the beginning of the meeting that something was wrong. He was so dumbfounded, so filled with enormous shame and humiliation, said family members had regained all their trust in him and then he let them down when he picked up. Sherry, I felt so bad for him. Sunday was one year since his wife's death. If we chose, we can use any excuse. I know this but still my heart went out to him. He was so emotionally banged up. Cunning, baffling, powerful - it is true!

My sponsor was in New York City for a week. She got home on Wednesday. Her mother came home with her with her to visit. They met there for holiday and to visit Cheryl's brother. I get to meet her mother tomorrow and am pretty excited. Cheryl is having a get together at her house, she mentioned a cook out by the pool so this will be fun. I am chairing the Women's 6:00 Sunday night meetings for the next three weeks. I will be researching a topic before then - time to dig around in our AA literature. Chairing is so good for me because it puts me more in the books.

My new dog, Kevin Daniel, is a wonderful blessing. He and Kelly, my female, love each other. I tell you, she is smiling now all the time. Poor baby needed a companion to keep her company while I am at work. I whisper in her ear "Do you like him, do you like Kevin?" I wish you could see her face when I ask her this. She immediately wags her tail and starts licking my hand. They know each other's names.

Wow, I sure was chatty here. I am aware I get quite verbose a lot of the time. LOL!

Loved the new photos of you and Tommi in the gallery.
Time to shower and get to work.
Happy Friday and hope you have a fantastic weekend.
Brock

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 11



Louet


Consolidating fuzz into yarn makes me a friend to sheep everywhere. Spinning the filaments of truth into cables of life does not impress the mutton in anyway, but sure does my mental health a world of good. Free floating fiber is bad for my lungs and piles lint all around. Giving things a firm twist pulls together what used to be fluff and keeps me warm and dry.





Jones for candor


*
WORKS

I cry the waterworks so necessary to the healing of my heart.
I explode with the fireworks required
For anger to set living boundaries.

I sleep the sleep of angels, as I link to dream works
Allowing mental maintenance to occur,
Slip into my political face, making time for public works.

I return to my abode, call the pie maker and order “the works”.
Have it delivered so I can face the homework
Waiting for me and baring my name.

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 12



Hypothetical


Is my inability to understand what creates mystery? If I were brighter, swifter, keener, would life be free of unknown communion? Would comprehension eliminate revelation? Would I lose perceptual apprehension by arming myself with knowledge of forethought? Could I end mysticism through education? Should I even if I could?





Sample other people’s assets

*
OPTICAL ILLUSIONS



Like my new frames? I ask my sponsor
Who wrote you prescription?
Oh the lenses aren’t new just the frames, I reply.

You want to be seen differently,
but you want to see things the same old way?
My question still stands---
Who wrote you the script for those funhouse glasses
you have used all your life?

Did it ever occur to you the distortion is ground into the glass?
Remember some people need you to see things other than what they are.
Unhappy families look great if you can’t see them too clearly.

It’s hard to know what to say to keep the peace--said Grandma.
She never took off her specs to see there was no peace to keep.
So I ask you again --The view of the world you base your choices on
who chose the color you see it through?

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 13


Cadentia



The randomness of love is matched only by the randomness of loss. What slips into view or out of grasp whispers beyond my control. Like cookies baking in a nearby oven I long for the sweetness to be inside; even if it is simply in an olfactory way. The similarity of the pain of what I have and the pain of what is no longer mine haunts me; scares my security, rattles my hope, affects my sleep. For minutes make a life and moments are all it takes to remove the very same. In the end all that I know is that loss does not remove love and love does not remove loss.







Check your drawers for memories
*

SCREAMING LETHARGY

The screaming lethargy of being alive
after many years of wanting something else.
The exhaustion of pulsing, breathing waves,
waves of thinking.

Yet as tired as I am, I am.
Here without a doubt, I stand.
No crawling, for I have not fallen.
No climbing, for I have reached the plain.

I wait for the rain to wash over me.
The truth to run through me, time to pass by me.
Like a free trip to an unwelcome destination
I arrive with randomly packed bags and low expectations.

I am here now.
The train doesn’t seem to be moving on.
I might as well leave the station.
Nothing to do on the platform.

There may be points of interest
or flowers to be smelled.
I step haltingly and fear making any connection
to this unbidden place.

My name is unknown.
I befriend the lamppost, the birds, the street.
I am tired from travel,
Fearful of arrival.

Fury courses through my veins
but the weather is pleasant.
I might take off my coat and stay.

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 14



Heartfelt


Boab trees litter my dreams; gossipy like old women in the late afternoon sun, I wonder at the tales they tell though I am far too young to understand. The Australian Kimberly shelters these mysteries in life; they shelter me in the far off wilderness of my mind. Coming to age seems merely a step when in the presence of the ancient beauty of long endured life. Too long drought, too deep rain, are places I can pick my face up from, stand my ground or be on my way. The leaves may fall, but they will return in my dreams and I will return to my life.





Chime in
*

HOME TO HOPE

Shadows of doubt fall across my face on dark days
And I have trouble finding my way home to hope.
Reliance on sunshine fails me come dusk.

Twinkling stars bare their souls to little avail.
I am lost.
Absurdity and obsession plague me for time and attention.

I wander deeper into a dismal wood.
How can I chop my way free?
Dejection dulls my senses, I am blind to solemn assurance.

I must reevaluate the shimmering enthusiasm from the night sky
Skepticism passes like storm clouds.
I may feel the rain for a time.

Necessity reigns on both sides of every street
But still I can crawl into my bed
Morning will come and I will fear less the coming night.

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 15



Warhol Wouldn’t Be


There is no trick to art. If I work to make my pieces fit with the familiar I lose my individuality. If I make what is truly me I fear there is no line in which to stand. I must make the work, find the market, live life and die happy; all this with no map and a world filled with people who tell me what to do, but none who can guarantee the outcome. My unwillingness to fight, to look at and feel the ugliness of life is at the core of my impediment.



Except change then accept change

*

LINEAGE



People stand in the cue and I stare,
Lost in contemplation and compliance
I weigh the conflicts and complications.

Is this the method to clear identification?
I think I am better known for the lines I’ve crossed,
The times I press between warm souls
And force myself to the area beyond.

How can I wait my turn for generational stew
When the fruit trees bear life for those who break free
From ruts and rumbles to bite deeply the flesh of the future?

I can’t stand here though I love so many in this line.
I cannot love the line itself.
I must step through, breathe,
Stretch my legs and mind.

Take leave of grids and locks
Living a lonelier but healthier life
All caused by a change in direction.

[LeftWriteFemme]

Hey Brock!

Sorry it has taken me so long to write back, the days have been flying away from me. I am in the book building process of the new coloring books that Tommi collaborated with me to create. I love hys work, hy is such a fine artist! I am so delighted to have my work next to hys, this is pretty exciting for me!

I hope this week has been better for you at work! It must be hard to say no when women are cooking for you. I grew up in a family where food was love, if someone meant something to you cooking was the way to convey that. I still haven't gotten over it either, when I fly to west to see Tommi, filling hys freezer with individual containers of my cooking is a very important task to me. I know hy says not to worry about it, but I feel like that is a demonstration of my affection.

It is so cool that the dogs know each other's names and that they like each other! What a great pair they must be!

I'm glad you liked what I wrote, that means a whole bunch to me!

I hope the guy whose wife died is doing okay, it is tough on folks when they relapse. I will keep him in my prayers.

You are in my prayers too. I wish you well, Brock. Have a great rest of the week!

Sherrie

Originally Posted by Brock

Sherry, your writing here hits the nail on the head:

"Swapping one chemical fix for another is like changing my socks in a rainstorm, nothing dry will come of it."

Hope things are good with you.

This past Tuesday and Wednesday were rough at work. Not the actual work but a noisy, very noisy women in cubicle beside me. Yesterday was better. This really gets to me sometimes when I am trying to concentrate but I love my job, specifically the technology I am working in, what I am getting to do ... plus a terrific supervisor. Yesterday it was 11:00 before I knew it ... that is always an indicator to me I am enjoying myself. Regarding the noise on previous days, it was about about sticking the earplugs in deep and accepting life on life's terms. If the earplugs are not enough, I put on my headphones and listen to some Led Zepplin tunes. Two of my women friends at work, who are terrific cooks, have been feeding me all week. They see the situation I am trying to tolerate and what is going on. Becky also made me a cake. Have you ever heard of a "sweet milk cake?" It is a wet cake and oh my gosh, the best cake I have ever eaten in my life. I ate every bit of it in two days except the large hunk I gave my buddy, Jerry. He loved it too. Becky and Rosemary always feed people at work as a comfort mechanism. I have figured out it is their way of showing people they care ... it is not just me they cook for. They put the food in the refrigerator with my name on it, then send me an email that morning. I appreciate them so much but I had difficulty buttoning my pants yesterday morning. I need to back off the goodies this weekend - cannot stand too tight clothes.

There was an older guy at the noon meeting on Labor Day (Monday) who had time and relapsed for one day on Sunday. He shared about it when it was his turn. I knew when I sat down one chair over from him at the beginning of the meeting that something was wrong. He was so dumbfounded, so filled with enormous shame and humiliation, said family members had regained all their trust in him and then he let them down when he picked up. Sherry, I felt so bad for him. Sunday was one year since his wife's death. If we chose, we can use any excuse. I know this but still my heart went out to him. He was so emotionally banged up. Cunning, baffling, powerful - it is true!

My sponsor was in New York City for a week. She got home on Wednesday. Her mother came home with her with her to visit. They met there for holiday and to visit Cheryl's brother. I get to meet her mother tomorrow and am pretty excited. Cheryl is having a get together at her house, she mentioned a cook out by the pool so this will be fun. I am chairing the Women's 6:00 Sunday night meetings for the next three weeks. I will be researching a topic before then - time to dig around in our AA literature. Chairing is so good for me because it puts me more in the books.

My new dog, Kevin Daniel, is a wonderful blessing. He and Kelly, my female, love each other. I tell you, she is smiling now all the time. Poor baby needed a companion to keep her company while I am at work. I whisper in her ear "Do you like him, do you like Kevin?" I wish you could see her face when I ask her this. She immediately wags her tail and starts licking my hand. They know each other's names.

Wow, I sure was chatty here. I am aware I get quite verbose a lot of the time. LOL!

Loved the new photos of you and Tommi in the gallery.
Time to shower and get to work.
Happy Friday and hope you have a fantastic weekend.
Brock