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Will there be that wonderful coffee??
I'll be there with boots on >>> Western BFP
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March 21
When is enough, enough? “What is the difference between full and all? Don’t know? Well, let me tell you,” said my sponsor with a wink. “Full is when the broccoli that went perfectly with the entrée leaves a pleasant smile on your face, full is when the arrow on the gas gauge points to F, these are little indicators of full. Indications that you have reached all: the wet scary feeling in your mouth after your second piece of pie, all is the gas pouring down the side of your car because you have to try to squeeze more in.” “Yes, yes,” I reply, “I know when I’ve overdone it; I resent everyone or at least I am cranky about everything. I know when I’m under doing it, too; I get either a lost feeling or the sense that I should be in charge, but how do I really know that I am doing enough?” “If your sponsor has a good idea of where you are mentally, physically and spiritually; if the people in your home group can count on you to contribute service regularly. If most people in most meetings know not just your face, but also your name. If your sponsees freely admit that you are their sponsor, those are sure signs. Though the biggest signal for me is how constant my contact is. If I’m reluctant to pray I’m usually not doing enough of something.” Learn from pain * MATH If this is the solution why aren't I happy? I ask my sponsor in a piteous whine. You've run the equation and the solution equals happiness? She queries, that's the whole and total answer? How many times did you go through the computations? What's your point? Are you saying happiness isn't the answer? What about joy and freedom? I heard someone say that was the goal I know that's what I heard. Let's think about it for a hot second What would you think If I worked the steps as hard as I do And as a result walked around in a perpetual grin? I'd think you had lost your mind. So you're telling me you believe The product of recovery is idiocy? The thing we all are aspiring to is bliss and nothing but? No, I guess not. Then what is the solution for you? I ask. A tally which fits the day I'm having Joy sometimes fits that bill But other days it's sadness or concern There have been days when disbelief And dismay were part of the appropriate response. For me, the solution is having an equation That helps me respond to life Instead of reacting to it. That's better than unending happiness That's wholeness she said with a grin |
March 22
Clever Me I am clever, I am so clever, everyone knows it and I know it, too. So, why do I get slam stuck on the very simple things required to keep my life running smoothly? I know what needs to be done, yet have no clue as to how to accomplish these threads of minutia. I stall; panic, plod, pout. When I do force myself to do it I end up creating either a new pile of impossible incidentals or some anticlimactic end, but secret solutions are as of yet undiscovered. The whip, the lash and the club avail nothing though sweet enticements do no better. I pray, “Dear G-d please help me!” but this has no point, I don’t want the help, I am afraid of the help, I am afraid of the change and of course who wouldn’t be? Beyond here lay someone I don’t know, someone I only fear, beyond here lay the fearless me and I am clever enough to be afraid of her. Fill the potholes in your thinking * THE PROCESS The mountains don't wash away like sandcastles The amount of persistence required is far greater. Acorns don't work like sunflowers Not everything is instant gratification. Marathons aren't run in seconds If you don't love the whole adventure, pick a smaller goal There is no shame in sunflowers or sandcastles or microwave popcorn As long as you want it and hold it in esteem Time-consuming, life-consuming journeys Have a high price in boredom And are not worth the consumption If that is not where your heart leads you You don't have to love washing the pans To be a good baker But it helps Peace is in the process. |
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This is one of my favorites from your book, "Sober on the Way to Sane". it is one of those bent pages in the book on my coffee table. It amazes me when I pick it up and there are clever insightful words , put together just right for what I need, that are just the light in the tunnel...Oh now it WAS a train. PS>>Glad to have gotten together with friends last night, Options are a good thing.:hangloose: |
March 23
Suddenly Creeping realization has never been my experience with G-d’s handy work in my kitchen. I start out making a mess and I find in short order that G-d has made a meal; fit food for apt hunger. I could throw myself into the kneading and shaping, but without the yeast which is so freely given I have no bread; only a lump that will choke me in the end. Even my very own abilities are gifts I was incapable of offering to myself and are only found here in my possession through sheer grace. I have woken up with my face saliva glued to the table top far too often only to discover my Higher Power doing and I am grateful for without that action I would be un-done. Learn to live with the shadow of the moon * HOW RED IS RED I check my color and contrast I paint the setting sun Add a bit of yellow And fill to the edge burgeoning poppies Add more blue and paint the blood Which pools around my mind The equalizer of all my mental conversations Too much is never enough, as the story goes I pursue my shades and signatures Too much for the fingers and not enough for the toes I disregard fraudulent crimson I scale the mountains of intention looking for perfection The leach of my addiction drains the other colors from my rainbow My sponsor asks only one question "How red is red?" |
March 24
Water Buddha The longer on the river I am the less I fear the river. I still don’t know what lay ahead, anything may wait for me just around the next bend, but I fear this less and less. Experience is a great foundation no matter what you are building or in which direction. I’ve gotten my sea-legs, a sure sign of the mind cooperating with the realities the body is experiencing. I have learned to avoid some forms of trouble and anticipate fortune more often. Further on could be waterfall, ocean, dam; I will contend with any or all, come what may, for when it comes to riding the river I have learned the most important thing: I don’t need to push. Be left, be right, be yourself * THE ORDER I can't expect delivery if I haven't placed the order I never seem to know what I want Until after I have accepted something else. I can remember thinking order meant procedure not procurement Set the table, not end my hunger I focused on rational intent and turned my face from desire Assailing outcomes leads to disappointments Asking for a hole to be filled may cause dumping Not management or conservation It's good to have a plan before signing the requisition Please help me know who I am So I know what I want I can make a request and stop accepting orders of attack Don't let me order the end While I am still at the beginning |
March 25
Two X’s I play sport at the three X folks and their still sometimes skewed thinking. Yet, I attack myself for feeling like a babe in the woods. Old and wise should be my stock and trade by now though I find vastness at my door regularly and confidence struggles to peek in the window. What in the world will I do if I can’t perfect this stuff soon? Hopefully nothing as foolish as fretting or anything as mean spirited as accusation, possibly I could try reception. Truly this only comes in gift wrap and after twenty years I would hope I had learned to live in the present. Think kindly of chickens if not of cowards * THE ORPHANAGE OF MY HEART The orphanage of my heart hold many children of the past They gaze at me Fixed in an attempt to draw me near their needs I scurry, often my head down, eyes averted Not knowing how to offer comfort or consideration To these hapless souls. Fearing the largess of poverty I decline to open my small purse What could I tender Other than a tease? Nearly barren, in my heartbroken, disconsolate, inconsolable state, I rarely even obligate myself to extending my hand This is the pit of my idiocy These wee ones have the world of hope and strength to give I am their offertory I am the place where their gold resides They live inside me to fill me and bind me to life and light I flee them in the height of misunderstanding Disconnected from these inner spirits I am impoverished And far too weak to grasp their help I too fogged to see the world within Starve in the world without |
March 26
Whirly Gigs Pivot points and reference points subtlety disguised as harmless bric-a-brac escape my comprehension until I either stumble or land on one or the other and ponder the affect. Realization that much of my life’s contentment hinges like a door shocks me, though I don’t know why it should. Isn’t it the way of things that it all turns on a whim or at the very least hangs on fine gauged calculation? I am not the capricious vixen I accuse myself of; I am however human and given to a certain amount of fickle fussy frenzy which all reckons out given enough perspective and wit. Resuscitate inspiration * CALIBRATE COINCIDENCE Do good Do right Line up with the next movement Get the universe into the sprockets of my desires And make the miracles flow in my direction Ah, The boy scout merit badge of sobriety I force spiritual alchemy through the pasta maker Of my small life Expecting gold And where is God? Where is the realness of reality? Where is my place in this hairy mess? Well, who knows Am I the Wizard, the Chemist? The mechanic of the galaxy? Though I wish and hope In truth I am not the one who calibrates coincidence I am the receiver of. |
March 27
New Borne What happens when you finally get what you want, what you barely dared to dream? What happens when you can hardly do more than drip tears down from smiling eyes? Where do you go with a future filled with proposed joy? Heaven is an option if only you believed, but hell has been such a perennial destination it’s hard to realize there will be no return trip this year or possibly ever again. The work required to change from an attitude of longing to one of satisfaction is as real as all the work needed thus far. Tending love is a host of disciplines I want to step to, like I have done it all my life, like I was born to do it and I was, yet still growth is accompanied by its own pain and awkwardness and who am I to deny this treat. Any new life worth living is worth the pain to bear it. Turn up your smile * FEELINGS Getting my feelings back Was like a package delivered. Not a letter bomb More like live squid or bait of some kind It was something to catch me out there. I think overcoming the shock Was more or less the small part Though it seemed to loom at the time. The squirming, the writhing of my soul Was like a pregnancy following a bad dream. I wondered how this became a part of me. I squandered my days Hoping it would leave quietly some night soon. Like all difficult relationships I attempted to hold my breath through it. Failing this, I tried to offer my feelings a guest wing in my heart And a never ending supply of tea and cookies. When the reality of life with feelings planted itself firmly in me I let out my breath, stopped the hostess act And endeavored to roll with it. This worked well. I have since invested in a wet-suit and fins The squid are much easier to live with When I meet them on their turf. |
March 28
Feelings/Facts Delay is when I don’t deal with the tack, don’t deal with the finish nail, land up with a 12 penny in my heel and think about waiting for the railroad spike. Rebellion is when I run through the razor-wire fence expecting to make a clean get away. If I don’t socialize my problems when they are puppies all hope is lost when faced with the big dogs. Exiting out the fifth story window is suicide in fact, but in my thinking I am merely rebelling. Willingness and cooperation make a dynamic duo; powerful combatants of delay, rebellion, many other joy killing, life stealing foe. A life led with cooperation and willingness is not necessarily perfection, but it often feels that way. Coax loose your tangled frustrations * FUTURE TENTS The future seeps in through the windows Like the dawn steeling across the sky Once I inhale it, I am out of doors Only the lightest of canvas covering me The opening, flaps in the breeze The wind of unbidden things echoes Off the wall of people Shut out from this adventure I brace myself for the cutting current But am greeted by the softest of zephyrs I duck out I stand unfettered Lonely whispers call But I am isolated The scene is empty, serene and beautiful There are other tents Other seekers standing on other hills But they see their own futures From the vantage of their own tents And thankfully I am left to see mine |
March 29
Yes, Virginia there is a solution Suspended in the colloid of sobriety the overly large molecule, which is me, finds a fix I couldn’t imagine. I can get better, I do get better, I have a set of values to substitute into the old equations. I now live in a mixture where there is one thing in common and all the rest are variants which ordinarily don’t mix. The scientific method is entry to homogenous living; a concept that never made it to the table in my days as a rogue element. And with all this on board, the thing I love the best is that it grows; what I can do and how I can do it is an ever widening frame of reference, even things which were once outside of my view are now possible. I am grateful that there is a solution; I am amazed that it is the solution to everything. Rethink awkward restriction * CRAZY I try on crazy The way I sometimes get out the jump rope And see if all those muscles still work. The unemployed, unexploited Fallow nature of my once fertile insanity Saddens me in an odd way Today is a place I stand in stiff comfort Even though it has taken concerted effort to get here There are days I slip from reality The way I can slip off a chair I no longer allow myself to lounge on the floor Pride is not so much the issue as hygiene Crazy is bad for my health I gave it up like cigarettes or romance novels I don't have enough time Or insurance for these dalliances Though I do remember them all with fondness |
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March 30
Catalog of Growth The right seed in the right season grows a garden of miracles for me. I get the food for my table or the stores for winter, sometimes when I’m in a Jack like predicament, right planted seeds can provide a bean stalk of escape from my restricted life. I have a role to play with these wonders. I must sort the seeds from the pebbles. I must let the kernels out of my pocket and into the ground. I water when I can and harvest what comes to fruition. Though the best by far is the part when I get to share the seeds. Putter in your emotional garden * RAIN The rain makes shadows of water It spills onto the ground like tiny worlds What had been airborne and mist Is now earthbound and integral Feeding, cutting, learning the world Once I contemplated theories and mystery Now washing dishes is a spiritual service The view was lovely when I was above it all But now I course through the veins of life There may come a time when I am untouchable again But by then I will have been a part of it all I will carry the world with me always An orbiting servant Not just above but through |
March 31
Face and Ass “It is hard to save your face and save your ass at the same time.” What I haven’t tried in an attempt to live my life as a showman spotlight front and center. What I wouldn’t sacrifice to keep peace and image intact, but in the end it was just that, my end, that saved me from a life chasing prevention of defacement. I can’t live with the posture of an ostrich it leaves so much at risk. Hiding my face won’t protect it no matter how much I wish it would. I have to put my butt in a seat, a seat up front where folks get to know my face. I have to try my best yet still make mistakes and let people know my ass as well. Being a part of AA saves my behind, once that is cosseted my face might just get its day in the sun. Don’t invite ridicule, but deal with it if it comes knocking at your door * PADUANS The pussy willows bloom Looking much like crested poultry The coldest part of my heart Is fighting to thaw in this early spring Weather is not of the mind to be rushed My hopes nor the changing calendar Can persuade the warmth into the May morning It's May for me too No longer the early sobriety of January The years have marched on I wait for the delivery of my returning brains Long-term sobriety has begun I am still beset with the chill of fragility I desire dignity but find myself strutting Like a fowl with blooming plumage Addled and gawky Don't worry says my sponsor The pussy willow is in no way less For showing itself In the rawness of growth |
April 1
Why is it so hard to be me? I have everything I could wish for. I have love and friendship, I have talent and ability. What more could I want? I don’t want more, I want to learn how to overcome fear and live with disappointment. Abundance is ever at the door, but I have no room for plenty. Reassurance is the thing I chase after, yearn for, pine about, but it is an illusive thing like taking hold of smoke. Allusion is the gift-wrap of reality the unwrapping often puts me off the contents; regaining my composure and reestablishing willingness is a difficult job requiring dedication and fortitude. The barrier before the carefree me is thought the strongest of all substance. I must heal the calcifications of my mind and resist rigidity. My thinking is what makes being me problematic without it I am nothing at all. Free fun from the shackles of expectation * ACCEPTANCE, ACTION, CHANGE Acceptance equals action Without action, acceptance is a death sentence Action puts me in the hands of my Higher power Inaction puts me at the mercy of others or worse self-justification For acceptance to glow with life it must be moving Action equals change Action without change is repetition The moon does not change It orbits flat on it's face, forever dark on one side And a mere reflection on the other Change equals acceptance Change sparks possibilities in mundane endeavor Change without acceptance is a walk off a cliff For change to endure, agreement is necessary A one-sided argument is fascism and fraudulence The heart of change is acceptance Beating the blood of hope to the extremities Whether we circle the heavens Or the bowl depends on the cohesion of Acceptance, Action and Change |
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I really like this poem and this resonates for me ...." Beating the blood of hope to the extremities Whether we circle the heavens Or the bowl depends on the cohesion of Acceptance, Action and Change..." Although I read your inspiration and then the poem you post every day, I seldom add in a comment, as the flow seems so natural:rrose:. Thank you for putting such feeling and re- organization to words I see and use all the time, in a way that shouts it out with feeling and strength. My best regards. OP.:mountie: |
April 2
Clock and Calendar Girl I depend on the count and measure of time to get me through. The swing of the pendulum carries me from moment to moment and the divisions between days are like the rungs on a ladder; I climb from month to month and age to age. When I hold my breath I count the tic, tic, tic till the difficult time passes and I can inhale once more. Harder things require X’s in their numbered boxes to help me transverse the larger distance and rockier terrain. Take away my clock and I go deaf, remove my calendar and I go blind. Tools are tools even if they only aid sight and sound. Address your future * THE SCULPTOR Stuck in a block, my sponsor chips away at me I struggle to hold still With surgical precision she cuts through the debris With which I have surrounded myself After my sponsor frees my hand and arm She places a hammer in my open fingers When the other arm and hand are rescued She places a chisel in that hand This is how before my head showed above the surface I began to help in my own restoration I am the sculptor The program has made me Recovery has taught me I can be anything If I keep chipping away At the things which hold me hostage As time travels on I am a new shape With each turn through the steps And have an ever lustrous finish With every application of the traditions |
April 3
Unfettered “The difference between a demand and a request is apparent to everyone.” A drunk once said this and I hold it to my heart. I can not be bullied or swindled into a corner; neither will I allow you to put a rope around my neck like a wayward calf. I obey because it works for me and if you teach me that you are untrustworthy or careless I will obey you no longer, this doesn’t make me less obedient it just takes you out of the lead. Sometimes I hold the reins and most times they are in the hands of G-d, but never shall my reins be in the hands of another, this is what I drank over and this is what I could drink over again. No one person is my salvation and I cannot allow anyone to be my demise. If you consume me like a drink, I will kill you as surely as any drug. Hobble disrespect * STOP TALKING Try to stop talking when people stop listening said my sponsor And try not to take it personally Why is that? I query Most individuals can't handle much of anything real Try as they may they are unable to listen To anyone speaking the truth Tell them a story and you can hold their attention all day Sprinkle bits of honesty into the tale And you still will keep your audience But strafe them with bullets of the truth and they run for cover I've seen it happen, I never knew what made them scurry But I have seen them sprint away It's a coping mechanism If you try to turn their heart too quickly They're afraid it will stop beating Why is it you never worry about that with me? You tell me the facts whether I want to hear them or not I can tell you because you take step three |
Today I re learned that I have a hotel in my head for my resentments. Some resentments come and go- they check in for an hour or 2 for some nasty business and leave the dirty laundry for me to clean up.
Some, Ive kept like cherished guests and have redecorated their rooms with mongrammed towels and fluffly bathrobes. These resentments find their way to my hotel through expectations and assumptions. My check out key is a broom of acceptance of life on lifes terms. And the vaccume is service. My occupancy has gotten a little full while I wasnt paying attention- and I couldnt figure out why Im snarky and panicky when things are going really quite well. Its check out time, Inventory list is in progress. Sponsor has been notified. It would appear I DONT need a couple of beers after work to be normal, no matter what the full hotel is telling me. Its not that Im overwhelmed, my hotel is overbooked. Check out time in NOW. |
April 4
Give Me a Goose Any Day The geese breaking wind resistance, the close ones, the far ones, the ones behind trumpeting, this is the gang who gets me sober and keeps me that way. Maybe you think that G-d is not a flock of geese, but it has been my experience and the honking and the mess are part of it all. I spend my days making sure I am one of them. Sometimes I am even in the lead, which may seem like a place of honor and prestige, but is actually a lot of hard work. Sometime I am the cheering squawker who makes my encouragement heard. Other times I am the one waddling around leaving an untidiness behind me. All of this just makes me part of the flock. I am especially fond of my nest mates though they are often the ones I chase and bluster at the most. I feel a sense of identity and pride when I see any goose flying high and know that because we don’t do it alone we are able to do it together. Pet inspiration * FINE PRINT I can scrawl the wall with everything I know I can fill my books chapter and verse With pure and honest hope But let me begin the precision of language and watch. My once open face becomes tight My associations peek regularly around each corner Neatly painted lines are a trap with teeth laid bare Serrations of careful craft sever my umbilical And God floats off untethered Truth returns when I am shouting my prayers Scrupulous observance never advances my sails I must meet life with an open hand The devil may not be in the details But be sure to check the fine print. |
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April 5
Please Sir Gratitude is a thing which collects and solidifies, it’s pink and I can walk around on it. Some days it is a broad highway and other times a winding spindling track. Ever present if I am mindful gratitude roots out pests and pestilence while planting a garden beyond my dreams. Gratitude is like handholding it warms and strengthens me, keeps me connected to real life and reassures me that I am not alone. Many days I find a way to make a face and pout, plundering the rich rewards of sobriety for the thin gruel of discontent, poke me with a stick on these days and remind me who I am, for I am never Oliver even if I feel a little twist. Rest between great ideas * FEELING TEMPLES I failed to appreciate the initial onslaught of feelings I spent much time trying to capture them Lock them away or in some other way submarine them This only had the effect of retarding my recovery I had to reframe my thinking I had to start with simple calisthenics, embrace and celebrate As my emotional health began to take shape I started the foundations for tiny shrines Each with its own theme Happiness had a party going on until all hours With grief there seemed to be a constant internment in progress Body or no Fear showed on IMAX film Of the realities of life on earth Curiosity had an endless library plus a DSL line Making myself a willing and frequent visitor To these contrasting places Created in me wholeness and peace Never again do I have to trudge The two dimensional desert Of my monochromatic former life |
The earth shakes under my feet.
The earth shakes and reminds me what powerless is all about.
It also reminded me as i treid to naviagate across the living room, what being drunk was like. |
April 6
Fearing Fearlessness How many times have I given the credit to night blind fear, credit due the brave persistent child? How many times have I blamed the willing diligent pursuer when the fault was the backstabbing delay of mistrust? I resist the onset of freedom. Fear was my oldest familiar and I put from my mind that it was my jailer, captor; kidnapped me from my cradle and kept me locked from G-d’s fine intentions. Fearlessness sounds debilitating to my crippled ears, organs who hear well the disclaimers and are deaf to the claims. I am the producer of bile and addicted to dread, endorphins wear white hats and win the day once this yellow belly is put to bed. Allow yourself distance from uncomfortable people * BIRDS AND BEES Birds and Bees can get me drunk I have to watch the amount of envy Which pours through me as I watch their bliss When others make a beeline to the hive I must head to a meeting and save myself despair If my spiritual condition is not sound When other couples are weaving their nests I have to be careful Not to weave my way back to the bar The mating dance is so sweet and seductive I have to make sure I don't end up doing the two step For as much as I hate to admit it If steps one and twelve where enough to keep me sober The rest would not have needed to be written |
April 7
Two Things That Should Be One The difference between my will and G-d’s will is that G-d actually likes me all the time, never looks to punish and would rather that I don’t settle for less then what is best for me. The difference between G-d’s will and my will is left to my own devices I would run in a perpetual circle and dig a trough. I would never ask for help and would refuse if it were offered. I would take on misguidedness as a mantle and wear it to my wake. Often my will and G-d’s will are miles apart, but they needn’t be. G-d is the president of my fan club; I just need to start attending the meetings. Make music in your head that you can feel in your whole body * WHIP I have been to the meeting where the play 'whip' The meeting where the members are gotten in line The tempo increases constantly in an attempt To flick each other off into the land of shame and slips and less-than This game is invisible to the participants Though the stress on their bodies is surely felt Spectators often misunderstand the meaning of the activity And wrongly interpret it as strength training and endurance building I think of it as a backward step Throwing me to my initial desire for a drink Living other peoples skewed lines Sent me running for a bottle The same lines Placed around me in sobriety Will measure me up for a box |
April 8
Out on Your Front Porch “If you want what we have,” said my sponsor, “you will have to follow somebody and lead somebody and do a few other things.” “I have to follow somebody, that shouldn’t be too hard,” I mumble. “In order to follow it helps if you stop looking at the ground, lift you gaze,” her retort. I raised my chin until I met her eyes. “Better,” said she. “I follow you?” I ask. “Me, yes, if I have what you want, follow others if I don’t,” she said. “Okay and lead somebody, how do I do that?” I ask. “It’s attraction, Sweetie, be attractive, show your smile and your smarts, but most of all show that you’re sober, because that is always your best asset. And no matter what anybody tells you about the allure of bad girls, nobody can resist a good set of assets” Don’t let the rush of the river scare you from the bank * WHAT IS PAST The past cannot hold me in a loving embrace I run too often looking for affection and recognition In things long dead and purportedly buried I return to the ghoulish obsession of digging up Old hates and sorrows longing for support And finding only the cause of the ulcers in my soul I wallpaper the crumbling facade Not wanting to cover it up but to hold it together Trying to unify something which is totally scattered When I view it with a sober eye The past is nothing but a slideshow Under a strobe light The pulse triggers the impulsive belief that it was all real When in truth it was the lie I survived No life existed in the past Only now is there air to breathe The past is all vacuum And I don't need to be sucked away |
If Wednesday is Happy Hump Day.
Is Thursday ...never mind. And why in the world is it not spelled wensday or maybe whensday, and wensday is when the sun comes out tomorrow when it it is Thursday. Written on an empty stomach, before coffee, and before I work on whatever teh special name for the day after Wednesday is.:bicycle: Thanks for posting thought provoking and wonderful stuff Lefty ;):dimbulb: |
April 9
Up and Down: Round and Round Like the wheel on my spinning wheel I pump up and down on the treadle and the wheel spins round and round, the roving twists in my hand and yarn is made. Really all I do is tap my foot and gently hold on, pulling occasionally. It is a small part I play in this production at least it feels small almost unnecessary, but with a clear mind I see that without me it doesn’t get done. I am essential yet still just a foot-tapper and hanger-on neither of these is prestigious yet the whole fabric depends on my mundane actions. I take great comfort knowing that allover there are foot-tappers and hangers-on keeping safe this way of life, sometimes keeping it safe just through sheer repetition. And if you ask, “Is that Unity or Recovery or Service?” All I can say is “Yes it is.” Powder your bottom line * CLAW MARKS There is a brackish River Whose current changes directions twice a day Its bed is well washed on every side. It begs the question- Which way is down hill? There are times I struggle up hill in both directions There are times I slip from every slope What is up is often down Judgment of topography requires distance Scaling the surface takes tenacity I plan on leaving my mark as I go Life's residue staining my finger tips. |
April 10
Stumbling Under the Tenth Step When I’ve been outside of my mind it is so hard to tell when I’ve come home again. The landmarks take on such distortion in memory that the facts seem bloated or anorexic as I turn my face from side to side. Old journals remind me of old journeys and perhaps there are accurate landmarks mentioned, but how can I know for sure that these too are not just the ravings of a mind gone mad. Real or imagined I must take the daily count and try to keep the score in favor of the actual. I don’t always know that I’ve fallen until I inventory the dirt on my face, but better that I face the dirt than live the delusion of a mole. Notice the shape of your fixtures * DROWNING NAKED Bare & Exposed I laid myself on the alter Of my home group AA, my only Source I emptied the contents of my soul And bore the mantle of overexposure But vultures lurked in many rooms I was safely guided by persons of my gender To more secluded and effective place of transmission I thrust myself into the arms and mind of my sponsor She escorts me to the steps with the door closed And taught me how and when it could be prudently opened AA is a power greater than me, so is the ocean Precaution needs to be taken when wading in Care must be exercised as to how much to bare. |
April 11
The Key You See The key you see is letting you accept me. Oh, how I hide from that, run from that, flee from that. I must be in control of what you think of me. I curtain off the view of me I don’t wish to share with you. Add to that the unusual choices of what I hide. I will strip down with all the lights blazing long before I would let you see me drop the ball, be confused, misunderstand. What I truly fail to realize is that in the process of trying to hide my faux pas and fumbles; what I show you is my controlling ass. Backside bare I moon you with my freak show trying to hide my humanity. Your compassion and tolerant waiting for me to calm down and open my eyes is the key I fail to see about you. Learn the difference between area and circumference * RANK I took an area level service position And my sponsor laughed herself off her chair What is your motivation for this? she asked I want to move up through the service structure, my reply Are you trying to make rank? Problem with that? I ask Ever heard of self-fulfilling prophecy You will become what you desire You will become rank And you will stink The triangle is inverted to help you clean up your act Don’t get washed away in a tide of ego I put down my swim fins And removed my epilates |
April 12
My Experiences with Tennis I have held the racket, I have hit the ball, but I have never played with a partner. I have slammed the fuzzy orb against the wall for long years now, but I have never had a mate. There were times when I had opponents; yes I’ve had a couple of those, a collaborator though, that I have never had. I have learned to overcome opposition either through wile or guile. Slugged my way toward some inevitable outcome, I never expected you on my court. The game we play is for keeps and the muscles required I have never used, I ache from the pain of ending an atrophy imposed on me by isolation and misunderstanding. Often I don’t know how to stand, don’t know how to act; don’t know how to be the equal to your service. I play chase, running after the thing I didn’t see and only faintly felt. I have come to the place where I know, you and I are a team; you will not be leaving looking for someone better equipped or with greater experience. It is time for me to lay out in front of you my host of tendencies and inclinations. I’m in the habit of overwhelming with my strength to hide my weakness; I must expose this all to you, the strength and the weakness, and work together for the resolution. I will no longer pretend that I know what is right and wrong in this un-played game. I fear that I will lose the old game by making this change, all that is familiar put up for grabs to the uncertain outcome of paired sports. All I truly know is that with you by my side I can never lose and I will learn to do whatever it takes to be your wife. Dream with an open mind * SOLIDITY Apprehension stands in the archeological site Which is my life -----listening Listening for the rumble of a cement truck to come And help solidify the shifting and tenuous nature of my existence A wet and sloppy solution A solution to be raked and smoothed, covered and cured Something to build a monument on Or a place to park my car The nearby grass looks lush and green But I dare not leave apprehension alone or it spreads I stand with it on bad days And against it on good ones I pray for the mixer to arrive Or at least the gravel spreader I need to fill this hole so it can be a life And stop being a grave. |
I seen a post out there somewhere, That clued me in on the two of you...Smiles I just wanted to wish you Both a very Happy Anniversary! May you be able to share the same with each other when you are old, gray and rocking side by side on a front porch swing with more love than you can imagine now. When you look into each others eyes, many years from now! May you see your flames forever shine together as ONE! http://www.commentnation.com/comment...nk_candles.gif ~*~ |
April 13
Neither Frog nor Fish I was falling and my Higher Power caught me in a net called AA, all of which was a pretty neat trick, but the strangest consequence of this is now I somehow think it shouldn’t be possible for me to drown. Defying gravity 24 hours at a time doesn’t make me aquatic or even amphibious for that matter. I still have all the corollary restrictions of anyone who is me. I still need sleep and water, food and warmth just like a mere mortal. How silly I am. I dodge a bullet and suddenly I think I am waterproof. Don’t exchange your trinkets for your tools * WHAMMO I have been hopping on one foot With a ball of hope shoved under one arm And a ball of hysteria under the other I wish I could tell from the outside of the ball Which one is hope- I worry I will put down the wrong one So I hold onto both My life is sorely limited by the baggage And I fear I am losing life with every hop A lack of information is my problem I don't adequately know the properties of either And suspect my every interpretation Finally I stand before my sponsor To ask the question of my life- That's easy Honey Hope is the one that bounces back Is all she had to say |
April 14
Who to Ask “You ask good questions and you ask the right people,” said my sponsor. “I ask questions because I need answers,” my reply. “Do you know how many people need answers and never ask?” she quipped. “I ask my friends, no stroke of genius there,” I continue. “You ask your playmates, you ask the people you trust enough to have fun with. You don’t realize how clever that is. You know lots of folks who work hard and you could ask your questions of these, but instead you save them for those diligent ones who still know how to play and that, Sweetie Pie is proof that you are no dummy.” You may mute your horn, but don’t soap your bow * CRUMPLED PETALS IN MY POCKET I can't bring back the bloom Cohesion, lost ripeness Is left only to memory I carry home the parts Folded, petite, fragrant bedding For my wistful desires I put these colored remnants into a jar of salt I make an aromatic rub For the sweetest wounds Transforming the parts to useful duty Doesn't restore the flower It doesn't pay tribute to the past, it is survival I have a mind filled with roses but I must make hay Today I live, today the rose is dead Its pieces in my pocket I don't die with the blossom Though my head blows in the wind The rose runs its course, I run mine. |
April 15
Chickens and Eggs Who is more sober the early riser or the long-timer? How do we get here and what does it mean. It all starts with a day, which is good because this is more than we had hoped for, sometimes more than we could do. Then it moved into an ever escalating game of can you beat this, each day an improvement over what had been accomplished the day before. For years the standard bearer is the pain or relief of the very first in this string, orbs of 24, yet here stands the question, “Is the essence the last pearl you touch or the total of the strand, which makes it real?” I don’t know for sure. Sobriety is like light; is light made up of waves or is it made up of particles and the answer is invariably yes, for it is. And what you need and how you look at it seems to make the determination, scientific method or no, the watched is affected by the watcher and vice versa. The end is a day round and imperfect as any and what is strung between the beginning and the end is what you’ve made of it. Never underestimate bitterness * ESCAPING THROUGH THE CEILING Up and away is my motto Upwardly mobile is my goal If I can flee without leaving a track I'm clean No heart wrenching walk down the isle or lane No dust on my shoes, no possibility of stumbling Grace at all cost Empowerment through elevation If I must leave my human plane to attain this, so be it Give up my natural rights, such is life But yet, if I lose my bonds to earth What did the leaving gain me? I arise, to appear better As a result, I appear not at all |
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and I just wondered why :doh: Wednesday is spelled that way...You enlighten and lighten my load. Thanks for being here and the service of posting daily. :pile::clap: |
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Ahh..shucks, thanks Hmmmmm..Looking at the big clock on the wall. Can't sleep Huh? :thud: :flying: |
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