Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 14




Participant Observer


Underneath it all I am more than naked; I am hidden by exposure. My body can never be as nude as life with you in my thoughts. My mind is a polygraph you wander through. I have determined this is more than safe and unlock the closets. You are not my warden looking for contraband, nor the janitor looking for trash, you are here; you are my friend having a better look around simply to know me better and to love me well. Your unfamiliar stride is exciting, I show off the places I long for you to see and stand aside from the rest; it is all yours to look through. I do not resist. You are my peaceful guardian; I am your willing charge.







Sit with impatience and sooth it

*

CAMPAIGN

Sobriety is the Santa Clause that brings delightful gifts
Which make me smile.
Recovery is the Gene
Which comes from staying out of bottles.
The Jin makes treasure possible
But doesn’t bring it to the door.

The ads and billboards of illusion built a world of booze
But no hope for a real life.
I have learned to turn from all the lies of picking up
And live in the possibilities which open
Only when I put down the drink and the thinking.

I don’t need to pin up stockings
Or rub lamps, just take direction
And make willingness my campaign.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 15



The Dark Fantastic


When the tornado touches down worry ends; the anticipation is over and thought stops. Tragedy is funny that way. In the aftermath I find out what mattered and what didn’t; whether I have helped or injured myself trying to plan for the worst. I fail to realize there are cloud filled days when nothing happens and days when trouble comes from out of the blue. What matters ultimately is if I was happy yesterday all the way into today until the thunder struck. Greed is not: living for today; greed is my attempt at gathering the future while dragging the past.






Compel your brilliance to shine

*


AUTUMN

The falling leaves slap my hand
As I ride the road at fifty mile per
My arm dangling.

Exposed they stand stark,
Stripped naked to the soul.
The growth of this years yearnings on the fringe.

I can follow this lead
Remove pretence not clothing
Stand before all who have an interest in seeing me.

Unashamed of my wants and the things I reach for
I can cast off the uniform of evolution
And enjoy a long winter of truth.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 16



Single Serving Sterling


When the menu of life feels vast I must focus on my teaspoon; a simple tool that fits well in my hand, whose use I well understand. The possibilities conceived when I ponder the intangibles conspire to suck me down the rabbit-hole where all that’s left to me is a drug. When I come back to stir my tea and lick the spoon clean the world revolves around me and without need of my completed unified theory. Need looms, loss stacks, salvation keeps a steady distance, my only hope is to drink my tea, I shan’t even sharpen my spoon; I can and need to stay out of my fear built prison and off the streets of hell. My task is at hand and the size of the scoop is a reminder to take all of life in small doses.




Treat hope as a living thing; feed its hunger, quench its thirst

*


NATURAL LAW

Gravity is always in effect
But invoke the laws of lift
And you can make a stone fly.

I have no gills
But strap on a tank and rebreather
And I can share space with the sharks.

Given enough willingness and step work
I can walk through the world sober
Though every cell of my body is alcoholic.

The laws of nature are fluid
When I flow with them I can keep my goals.
Instant gratification is often my stumbling block.

Gaining access to my far-flung desires
Is not impossible
But it is also not immediate.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 17


Go where it’s warm



The intangible rightness of cohesion is difficult to explain. What is it that makes a group congregating into a congregation? What makes a rag tag tousle into a home group? It is the thing I yearn for, but dare not chase. I know this too makes a grub into a butterfly, yet private transformation seems necessary, where the change of masses is gratuitous. A thousand geese fly overhead; arrows of individual miracles, pointing the way to the meaning of it all.







Score your rhythm so you can reflect the music of your soul

*

THE DREAMER

What about the dreamer?
What about her, responds my sponsor.
You ask me about her like I was the one
Who pushed her off the cliff.

Are you saying I pushed her,
I questioned my sponsor.
Yes, that is just what I am saying.
Do you need me to sing it?

You wanted the dreamer to fly off,
To safety and happiness
And wanted her to take you with her.
In an attempt to grab hold of her ankles
And propel her to heaven
You threw her off the precipice.

Now she is broken and bleeding
Far from your sight
Your dreamer is damaged
And you ask about her?

Do you want to know what you did
And how to remedy it
Or were you looking to duck responsibility?

QUACK------

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 18



Blind Man’s Bluff



Turning your head to see doesn’t help when you have a blind eye. All the rotation in the world won’t restore your sight. Addressing life problems with a solution involving spin is counter productive and sometimes counter clockwise to boot. If I find I just can’t see, then maybe it’s time to listen better and compensate for my shortcoming through some other action. Turning away doesn’t help and walking away is worse. When I am blind in one eye and can’t see out of the other stepping up to the plate may not be an option, but I still need to find a way to stay in the game.






Molt bad ideas
*


PUBLIC PRIVACY

My public privacy is protected
By my smile not my scowl.
Maintaining boundaries as I travel
The common areas of life
Is more readily accomplished
By a pleasant demeanor than a dark stare.

I have used negative attitude
And found myself outside of my own protection.
The buoyancy of my manner keeps surface tension
A natural and acceptable reality.
Hooded behavior drags every interaction
Into suspicion.

When I make part of my business
To put others at ease
It is easier for me to preserve
My business as my own.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 19



Endlessly Moving Maps


I try to survive by memorizing the chaos. I do well up to five layers deep and then lose it, as the details become too great. I am staking my life on my ability to track the patterns in a storm while at the same time treading water. I think this skill kept life and breathe in me for many years, but now I fear I’ll drown in this roiling mass. I must touch down my tender toes and learn to walk this twisting path and keep a pace with this spinning world. Everything moves and I am overwhelmed. I have forgotten my flesh and blood nature; have mistaken myself for a stone, one which dare not roll, one which has no part in this endlessly moving map.








Be honest with your toes

*



SATISFACTION

Satisfaction is like a marble in my pocket.
Formed when correctness was still red hot
And my sponsor rolled my mind until I was whole.

I sigh and square my shoulders
I know I am up to any task.
I am skilled with my tools and know well the talents
Of my intimates and helpmates.

I am not invincible but I am capable.
I value who and what I am today.
I sleep the sleep of a person
Not a hostage or captor, I am me.

I have a marble in my pocket
And it reminds me of the world.
I have a world within me
Knowing how to live with that
Is a great satisfaction.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 20



Dewy, Cheatum & Howe


I must radically sever the close connection I have with self-seeking, self-pity and dishonesty. What will I use to pay the retainer for the representation I will need to pursue this divorce? Willingness is the earnest money, which will start the ball rolling, hard work pitches in its share and faith pays the note each day I apply it. All this and more is what it takes to divide the endless stream of my compulsive thought into a survivable days worth of life. I have the prospect of being happy as a divorcee or I could be a miserable widow if I stay wed to my disease.





Try not to be the exception to everything

*

PROMISE BROKEN

If promise shatters without anyone touching it,
If it pops like a floating soap bubble that lost cohesion,
What do I do--name names--I can’t even take fingerprints.

Sometimes dreams just end--no fault or blame is attached.
The ice breaks under its own weight
And nothing can be done.

I am more than just holding on.
I am alive even if all the promises melt away.
I can accept the unexpected and unasked for.

I know this doesn’t affect my worth.
My value is intact regardless of disappointment or discontent.
I have learned that anticipation is mere amusement.
Promises are pleasantries
.
I am made of stronger stuff.
I am not broken by words, ideas or hope.
Promise can be broken
But it doesn’t break me.