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June 7
Discussions with my Disease “You’re not the girl I used to know.” “Not the girl you used to love is what you mean?” “You’re different is all I mean to say.” “The rest you leave there to rot, unsaid?” “Something has happened to you.” “Is it something that you do not like?” “I don’t know who you are anymore.” “Or is it that you never knew?” “One false move could break us up.” “All your moves are false why will one more cause such change?” Side with the tide * MAGIC WAND Why are you wearing that hat and waving That star studded stick, I ask my sponsor? Isn’t this what you want, a magic wand, she replied? Whatever are you talking about? I don’t want a wizard. Don’t you? You thought walking into your first meeting would Poof---make you all better, When that didn’t work, you held your breathe for 90 days. When that also proved a disappointment You let the air out of your blue face And started the white knuckle routine for a year. At the end of twelve months, you released your arthritic grip And started scheming for a new sponsor But the new wicked witch sent you scurrying back to me. Then it was a relationship with the undying love That would break the spell you are under. Now tell me again, How you don’t want me to use this magic wand on you? Said my sponsor with aplomb. I guess my behavior gave me away, Go ahead say your incantation. I closed my eyes and waited for her words. Show up and do the work Keep your mind open, she said As she waved the cudgel. That’s it----------I asked, Well yes-- but I have to come back everyday She grinned |
June 8
Enclosed Space In the echo chamber it is the cymbals which cause the most pain. The drums resound, deep and loud, but it is the crashing of brass that drives me wild. Cotton wool and sealing wax can not put my head at ease. Resonate walls with their hollow effects create the feedback loops of hurt, like the endless reflection of parallel mirrors the sounds come back to me with relentless repetition. Aural illusion might have been the idea, but chaos is the result and leaving the space between these ears will be, will allow, the band to play on without the benefit of my torment. Write the stories the clouds illustrate * BOUQUET I love the flowers in my garden Their upkeep is my solemn trust With my shears I must cut Clear and swift the runners Which detract from the health and structure. When fruiting is heavy I must spare the stalk And choose what stays and what needs to be taken I am scrupulous in my observation of form and function The bucolic scene thrives The pageant of color sweeps the rows I bend to nurture and stretch to prune I pay over much attention to the plucking And forget I need to bring the blooms home. |
June 9
Weight Problem I have trouble raising my 50 pound hand in meetings. In between meetings I have the problem of trying to dial the 500 pound phone. Which leaves me with this 2,000 pound weight on my chest and no air to breathe, no life to lead. There is the difficulty of the relentless tyrant, my would be sponsor, the person I fail to ask. Plus, the home group that does not support me, since they do not know my name. All the while folks laugh and talk and have a good time, I can see none of them have suffered from my weight problem. Continue to move into your home * CLONING DAYS The novelty of sobriety causing sweet days Wore to gauze and I attempted control I cut, pasted and sutured elements of good living In an effort to make 24 hour of personal perfection. I was so sure I could replicate these jewel days I would make perfect spheres, everything round and even One after another like a string of pearls The more I tried the harder God laughed . Days are their own planets Saturn is different from Mars And today will have as little to do with tomorrow If I let it all work out. Perfection is a thing which is born to live Not a thing I can draft in a dish or test tube Life will-out Or chaos will prevail. |
June 10
Abraxas I was waiting for a magic person and then you appeared. I was dazzled; I was under your spell. In an attempt to prove myself your natural assistant I sawed me in two. Then I stepped into the vanishing cabinet and promptly disappeared. I was not wrong to see the miraculous in you, but I never looked from your visage once you arrived. The world around me melted at your entrance and I flowed down the drain along with it. I somehow expected a response from you, but why respond to an empty room? So, I will plug back into myself and power up. Power draws power and I will see if I can draw you once again. Keep a truce on hand for later use * THE LANDING Risers and runners lift from where I stand Here I make my decision I climb and face the challenges of my life Each new test returns me to this square The steps ascend in every direction No matter how many times I have scaled this set of twelve I must start anew with even the slightest change of direction Like facets on a diamonds base The flights emerge from the tiny base And hold the world of possibilities Within their meticulous surface I look into these precious mirrors To see who I am and where to go Though none of this would be possible Without a place to stand. |
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. |
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 |
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. |
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! |
Right on~~~~Ride on
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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. |
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. |
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. |
June 18
Limen Do you leave when it is time to go or are you the type who exits early? Does departure time find you lingering trying to squeeze out one more minute rooted in this spot? Are you the kind of person who loves the street, but avoids the parade? Can you bear to go, bear to stay, bear to think that the world exists beyond this door? Do you move with the other sheep when all the crowd says, “Baa.” Are you fleet with a sky full of clouds obeying the breeze, flaunting the tides? Do you change with the seasons or are you passed from hand to hand, living your life in the snow of a globe? My life is my life, but the most vital evidence of how I live it is what I do on thresholds. Shake the trunk of certainty and see what falls to the ground * RECLAMATION ARTIST I stand over the refuse can and peer in. I drive slowly past the piles of curbside discards I have so much trouble accepting There is no reclaiming most of this growing mass. There must be an alternate plan but I can’t see it yet. I surround myself with hopeful stacks and wishful trinkets I want to make a new world from old Save past relationships and make them somehow fresh. I don’t want to drown, I fear I can’t think fast enough To keep the wave from breaking over us all I will maintain an open mind And be grateful my life was retrieved from the dust bin. I’ll steal peeks at what has been put out for lost. I was once lost too. |
June 19
Tea Totaler My alcoholism was anonymous even while I was active. My destruction was internal, outside evidence kept to a minimum. It is easy to understand why so many from my past as well as my present are shocked to see me a member in good standing for a club they never saw me pay the price to join. But cost doesn’t always advertise in the public square. I know the score, the numbers etched upon my soul. I need to be well even if you didn’t know I am sick. I take the medicine; offer a smile to those who think it prophylactic and keep upon my path. Just because you didn’t know the contents of my bottle doesn’t mean I didn’t earn the tag on my tea. Attend the clues your body gives you * ONIONS I heard people in meetings sharing about peeling onions They say they peel layer after layer until it’s all gone! What the hell is that all about? I demand in the general direction of my sponsor. Zealotry, it’s about zealotry I peel my onions too, I have many layers of dried-up, paper-thin rhetoric Which I use to protect myself. I have to slit this papery hush And eject myself from the illusion To get the living and vital usefulness underneath Then what? Then I try to let God decide where is the best place To add flavor, stew is good but salad is a treat I can go anywhere once the waste is stripped away. What about the issues you haven’t worked out yet? I bait my sponsor Well those are other onions- Is all she would say. |
June 20
Who is Who Remake the bed for the restless child in you who sleeps better if attention is paid to the small kindnesses. Placating her saves you the sound of her plaintive cry. If you teach yourself or allow yourself to grow fond of her, this child you, these simple chores will seem light, refreshing, natural. If you fight her she will grow strong and you will grow weak. Don’t resist nature. Don’t resist your nature. Take a hug to share as you would take an apple divided on a walk in the woods with a companion. Share emotional embraces, let your thoughts surround her when you make plans and do deals. If you treat her as if she is the best of you, you will become the best of her. Collaborate with your missed cues * SMOG When I burnout the smoke affects everyone in the surrounding area I forget to keep my wick trimmed and lamp full I empty out and my light grows dim I am responsible for maintenance and upkeep. If I don’t protect my own radiance I will lose it And the darkness will be felt throughout the neighborhood I can’t risk the death of illumination or incur smoldering haze. Fortification of my sobriety is a simple task If I make proper use of resources. When I turn energy to obligation I am distracted And separated from my source Then the source I am to others is extinguished. I can only light the darkness where I am I can’t illuminate someone else’s path Nor should I pollute the way with smoke and vapor Due to a lapse in my spiritual condition. |
June 21
In the Beginning is the End I wonder if the road would show the reflection of its end would I walk down it still. I always decide that I wouldn't want to miss anything, not even the most painful things, yet this may simply be a flaw in my upbringing. An over-valuing of survival. What of you? If the knowledge of beginning and end were within your grasp would you begin? Would you flee the end? This end or every end? Or is it the beginning that you fear? And why not, for doesn’t every beginning hold within it every end? Enjoy the season you find yourself in * THE POODLE Those pointed toes, slender legs Carry her across my outstretched mid. What a blessing to be sober long enough To have never done any unseemly or frightful thing Which might have caused apprehension in this firefly of a dog. I read until she lays her neck over my mouth For her kisses and ear rubs. She is the center of the universe and I needn’t compete I am content to serve as a resting place and nurse maid I no longer look to be everyone’s pet. I can pamper and indulge this little one She has the whole stage to herself. I can be her faithful audience Having given up my farce. |
June 22
Notice I put myself on the auction block and wait to see how high a rate I will have to pay to become slave to my illusions. I have worked so ardently to free myself from past enslavements and here I stand naked on this block, selling myself and hoping I will fetch a price. Poisonous pedagogy is atomized, contained in every breath, I don’t know how to live apart from it and thus I stand waiting to be bought. It no longer matters how I got up here the first time, for who cares that slaves enslave. All that matters is that there seems no safe way off this block or out of this web, or down this street; the world seems a bad neighborhood everywhere I turn. Yet I must admit that standing here affords a view I would not have if I were buying. If I am slave I can have hope of someday being free, if I am owner what hope might there be? Manage your behavior * CURRENCY OF FEAR Fear pays the way for my disease to enter. Once inside fear seats itself front and center Fear is the currency that allows entrée to the far reaches, The coinage is ancient and steeped in tradition. There is no time or place Which hasn’t been moneyed with fear And it’s derivatives I can’t hide from So my job must be to educate fear. Fear is real And has a place as protector and warning But fear expands with ignorance And devalues the purpose of caution. Fear cannot buy safety Though I can use it To pay the toll Across the bridge to balance. |
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. |
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. |
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. |
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