Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 7

ORIGINS


Pain-filled interactions with people better suited to be left alone changed me in the way of acceptance. Wretched relationships with people made it difficult for me to have a loving relationship with the world. I had imprinted as a fledgling on sarcasm and ridicule, bitter milk that starved my expectations of kind response. I could not greet the world eagerly. Having never embraced the world I failed to hang on as it turned. I slid on my face and hands. Mud covered, I try to keep an open mind and attempt a connection with this spinning orb.


Color your emotions.
*



Flight 548


What a happy flight wing to wing,
smiles, good cheer, the air is kind,
sweet, dry, easy to breathe.
I am so blessed.

I fly to destiny
watching the traveling baby circus
play around me.

Giggles and drool surround me,
infuse me with glee.
People wander the isle
looking like well loved characters
from long forgotten books and we soar.

Time does not pass any more quickly this way,
but it is similar to time in heaven
rather than time spent in hell.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 8

THE WAY I DO IT



Cooking by smell, parking by ear, recovering by touch. The latter has to be done this way; I cannot see into the black-box technology, which keeps me sober. Feel through the resentments, pain, sadness, joy; find myself under a pile of rags with a match in my hand. The many times the steps have saved me from becoming a human torch are balanced by the weight of the rope, woven from these same rags, that together we use to drag one another to safety. The savory scent of a meal, or the glee of front row parking can’t compare with the tender sense of a sober heart.


Write bad advice on tissue and wipe with it.
*

Master Mind


I was taught that it was my job to master fear;
raised in a religion swearing they could master death.
I used to spend all I had trying to create a master plan,
while trying to keep secure using a Master lock.

I have seen Master & Commander
and do not long for that burden;
in fact mastery is so much a snare and illusion.

Life is quite improved
when we each have an oar and we all row on.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 9

CLIMBING ON THE ARC


If time swings and the seasons swirl and I pulse out my existence, why does the bird's wing flap and the rain fall down? If the song comes from my mother’s lips and my father tells his tales and I dance my heritage with each step I take, then why does the flower open to the bee and the swan trumpet her way home? If everything pulls from the ground and reaches for the light, then how can I duck my head, hide my heart and pass this all off as a coincidence? Am I less than the rain or greater than the swan? Why can’t I just climb on the arc and let the continuum spin its web around me? Well, you see I can, but will I?


Let little birdies speak.
*


What I give you

If I give you a piece of my mind,
a piece of my heart, a piece of my liver,
how do I go on in its absence?
Or does it ever leave me?

Is this more like an excision than segmentation?
Is it similar to how I carry you with me
when I catch a resentment; only in a good way?

I don’t know that I can be truly divided up,
but I do know that parts of me
don’t belong exclusively to me anymore
and I believe this is all for the better.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 10

ELECTRIC CONNECTIONS



I step into a room and take its currency. Is the flow good? Steady? The pulse even and strong? Where are the power brokers and are they sharing the time or using their magnetic personalities to draw the current off others? I check the complement of resisters, examine their stripes and assess the possibilities. I pump in energy when I can and take when it is available. I keep in mind we are all transformers and change is possible for everyone as long as we make the connections.


Rich mistakes make good batter.
*



What’s that in the Pool?


Parts of the Rocky Mountains look like
algae bloom out in the Indian Ocean.
Parts of me look like parts of you
and here we go with oneness
being nothing more than
pattern recognition and optical illusion;
though I hope there is more to it than that.

My hurt might not be your hurt,
but I have a sense of it.
Likewise your hope may not resemble mine,
but it cheers you just the same
and we are all the better for it.

We needn’t replicate each other
or attempt imitation,
but recognition is a kind thing
and art is what we all have to share.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 11

TAPERS



I wax poetic and burn the candle at both ends. I borrow from the beginning, I steal from the end, coming up short and feeling deeply cheated. I pass myself off as the time-keeper but am the time-pleaser, arch-traitor selling short the days and hours for approval, not fulfillment. I put away my true identity: mammal, human, the love of; I have exchanged it for the mask and cape of the Do-do-doer, a tragic figure of myth and legend who breaks the spirit of everyone who attempts the portrayal. In spite of this the roads teem with actors becoming caricatures of a life less lived. The world is more than a stage, and I must free powers greater than I to be more than an audience.



Laugh at old jokes and tell new ones.
*


Whose Oxygen Mask goes on First?


Desperation is the fuel which forges my resentments.
When I fear for my survival,
physical, emotional or financial
this will turn my response to your behavior into tinder,
sometimes gasoline and set our interaction ablaze.

Melt all which is steel strong between us
and create a molten mess
from which it will be a struggle to recover.

This is why me,
taking good care of me,
attending to my life, and quelling my fears
is the very best way for me to protect you
from my attitude and save me
from a negative balance sheet during my 10th step.

[takehimaway]

I have nine months sober today. -dances-

[LeftWriteFemme]

Originally Posted by takehimaway

I have nine months sober today. -dances-

Congratulations!!! Happy Sobriety to you!!

Originally Posted by takehimaway

I have nine months sober today. -dances-

Awesome!! Go you

Keep coming back, it's worth it and you're worth it