Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 11


Prize Catch



There is a reason that fish flap and twist when they are caught, why even though they are in the air they fight for the life that once was theirs, only martyrs go without a fight, it is good to know that at least this vice is not mine. When I did not love my life its loss was not an actual change, there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to struggle for. Now I thrash at the feel of my loved life slipping from me. It is good to know I have passion enough to rally a defense. My life can be taken from me, but I haven’t lost my will to fight.






Turn confusion until its smooth


*

THE PALMIST

Last night I had a silly dream.
I was in a tent at a carnival and the woman across the table
Held my hand so dear, looked into my eyes and said
“Today you will go to a meeting which will save your life”

I thanked her and left full of anticipation.
When I awoke, I was filled with the same strong sensation
I rose, washed and left for the meeting with anticipation.

I paid close attention to the coffee maker,
Those setting up chairs with me and the newcomer
I listened carefully to the speakers
And the sound of the group’s voice closing in prayer

Nothing out of the ordinary happened
Other than my realization
That every meeting saves my life.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 12

Dido

Either I can have a bad relationship that I never wanted or no relationship and the painful isolation of having been lied to and deceived by someone who, in theory, should have been trustworthy. You are off to war and I am agape not having realized until too late that you are a soldier. The fact is that one of these things will occur; you will be killed by a machine which cares nothing for you and sees you as its enemy or destroyed by the organization that sees you as its own or you will throw yourself on your sword and keep from bothering anyone else with this task. There is no scenario where you are the One you promised me you’d be. No homecoming, no welcoming arms to hold me. I stand on the sidewalk a garbage pail of cold water poured over my shock and dismay. To my grief you say that you have heard it all before, so why did you set me up to say it all again? I am heart stricken and cut in a place to obvious to hide and too hidden to speak of. You have no time to talk, no aid to give, no love to spare. I thought I was yours, but see that I have been swept from your life by the flood of a large gauge hose and water of questionable origin. Everything is wet but nothing is clean. This is an unholy act and I am defeated and living in Carthage.




Forgive loneliness


*

FABULOUS

I don’t care what else is on the inventory-----
You still have to take responsibility for FABULOUS
Said my sponsor with a determined look on her face.

But you don’t understand------
The other things on the list make it impossible
For me to be FABULOUS
You can’t see how incapable I truly am, I say
As I collapse into a pathetic heap in the overstuffed chair.

What you don’t comprehend is that FABULOUS
Is not affected by your other little grumblings
You can’t tarnish FABULOUS
It doesn’t wear away with burden or neglect .

This is why no matter how far you bury it
Or misname it, or even flatly deny it
FABULOUS shines like a beacon
And you end up with every Todd, Nick and Martha
On your doorstep.

Expecting you to be who you are
And let them warm in the glow
So my cherub--you can fight it or live with it
But FABULOUS is here to stay

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 13

Sanitized


All the water in the well gone dry belongs to me. Such an offer, how could I refuse? I stand as near the edge as I can get and try my best to peer, is the goldfish alive? For you see this is still my best hope, you, the source are also my wishing well, more than just survival you are prospect, neigh dream. You say that what’s left is mine, but you think of it as incidental, not a need, merely a want. Someplace deep, beyond where you admit, you know that life is dependant on desire, but will play mine off as casual when it becomes inconvenient to your drives and blindness. Eunuchs do not immediately perish, but you must confess they do not live. I stand here a lock to which there is no longer a key and whether I am open or closed it doesn’t matter for the partnership of change is desiccated and I do not care for a waterless solution.








Check yourself for false steps



*

INVENTORY

When you say “self” who do you mean
Asked my sponsor
Do you mean the lovely velvet child,
Or the façade you built to show others?
Well I wish I could answer you, I do, my reply.

I see the shrine you construct in your sobriety
I love that you made it.
When you talk about ridding yourself of self--
I doubt you mean this edifice.

Do you speak of some creature in the past
Do you know of whom you speak
Are you parroting, then assuming this thing exists
Solely for you to now dispose of it?

I thought “self “ was self-evident- I feebly interject.
I want names and locations
If you only suspect some of these entities
Please provide me with a full accounting of your suspicions

I also want, to the best of your ability, the origin of these individuals
I am unwilling to cosign their disposal without a proper bookkeeping
I see by the bright look on your face,
I have made myself clear, she said with conviction.
So this is what you meant by self-inventory, I say and sigh.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 14


Circular Needles

I react badly when I find a loose thread because I never know what might be unraveling. I have knit my heart out; have dropped an occasional stitch to be sure. Unbeknown to me these little holes in my logic wait for the stress of overextension to run through the length of my life, untying earnest work. If I could catch these unsecured thoughts before it all goes too far, I might have a chance to hook back into the main fabric and prevent this unfurling of collateral. When the cord is cut and the line flaps freely real panic ensues. Even if capture of both ends is possible, knots are awkward, unseemly and gauche. I was planning a seamless life, smooth and beyond reproach. My fear of reprisal flares before the ever-burning coals of abject self-doubt have a chance to be felt. This banked inferno generates the things which bake and fry my nerves, burn my threads and disintegrate my mantle. I need to put out the fire before I re-knit my world.






Teach desire to breathe


*

TOO FAR, TOO FAST

Balloons filled with hydrogen
Race the atmosphere and fly away
The effect is stunning
So much lift for just pennies

The easy way has no line, no waiting
Fast dirty service is available
Risk assessment is counter-balanced
With dramatic outcome
Low initial cost and instant gratification.

How can I not want to rise above the crowd?
How can I not want it now?
Hydrogen is quick and plentiful,
Volatile, yes but why should this bother me?

I have a Higher Power to protect me
It’s not as if I were playing with fire,
I am only tempting it!

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 15


Down to the Watership


The immoderate champions immoderation; the glutton recommends consumption, more often than not a drunk will pour you a drink It is part of the social norm to conform to the addiction of the day. If we are all high we laugh at each other’s jokes and there is less finger pointing about the mess. When we are all in this together we sink or we swim, but we mustn’t look around. Like the rabbits who cannot ask, “Where?” We try to look at ease with dying and contented with our lot. More must be better for we can’t survive on less than what we’ve got.








Design trees for your secret garden


*


WATER BABIES

Timeless babies bobble in their underwater positions
Voiceless cherubs bounce and wink
The river of their wisdom to my feeble mind.

The noise of silence wrinkles and tinkles
As the waves crash soundlessly above.
My head fills

I must surface but beg not to lose my connection
When I break the tension of top-side sobriety
I turn these angels to screened-off faithfulls

I must owe all I have to these aquatic infants
Every hope, all my fear is held to test in the face of,
Swimming heroines and their embryonic grave.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 16


What I Heard Through the Snow

The commentator’s voice fades in and out as the reception is lost and found among the static of my drive home. In here is a pattern, a connect the dots matrix; I try to feel my way too as I weave past the slow and stubborn traffic. Like a call from the wilderness distorted through a storm, my frantic thoughts obscure, sometimes distort the content, the intent, the soul of a message I so desperately need. Broadcast warnings, safety suggestions, help and hope are torn to slivers and rewoven in my careworn brain. The distraction of the road allows the subliminal heart beat to tattoo in my ear then my chest, all the way to my toes, bodily acceptance overpowers my relentless mind and clarity is achieved, no matter the drifts.







Lay a hand on improbability


*


ALONE IN A NEW WAY

I am restored.
I have my sanity like a Spring coat
I am not sure I need it
But it’s nice to have nevertheless.

I prayed for this state of reason
Believing it would give me entree
To a world where I was a late arrival
To a party I am no longer sure
Will ever take place.

I stand in the entrance hall
And practice new dance steps.
I search the space for prospective partners
But rarely see anyone who is swaying
To the same beat.

I am grateful for my sanity
Even if I have to enjoy it alone.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 17


Poe-etiquette


Cosmic questions cross the sky,
I wonder but don’t ask why
I pitch the tent, but don’t stay the night
I borrow money and don’t pay the rent
I sooth myself but can’t be content
I earn my keep though it is all been spent
The real true meanings are pushed away,
Has ready tragedy come to stay
Forever darkness, no more light of day
Cheerful greeting left to lay
All the poets bring their knives
For blood letting’s become their prize
Here I sit and tend the boat
Rocking dingy out to moor
I play the Raven, black and poor
I dare not speak it but in my mind sing “Never more”





Be wary of magical thinking



*

RECOGNIZABLE NONEXISTENCE

You will never take time to tell the truth
You will always take time to tell a joke,
As you run from your life
I see the familiar vapor trails of an unlived life.

When I flee my life through caretaking
I leave the same mist of unfulfilled desire behind me
I look at your potential
And the damage you do by not being here
I turn the magnifying glass on me
And search for the same trends.

I feel abandoned by you
The you, you never were
But always should have been
I pray for the key
Which will get me on the other side
Of the door you never opened.

I hope to live life
As it is
Rather than the comedy
It can never be.