Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 14

DO WE SEE



The old man walked down the road to see the end; I followed to glimpse the fruit of his pursuit. Does the highway come to rest or like the river just feed a greater sea? And time; will the clock stop him? Can he win the treasure hunt as the seconds tick away on the metronome? Will the slowing of his steps and the advancing of his age create a curve, which will prevent his accomplishment? Does this tag-along I am doing make me a part of his project? The road is long and its end may never come, only ours. When we take the road the road takes us. More and less is what we are and so too the road. I follow the contour of the ground, which curves around the world, spinning in our sky so we can all see the stars.


Reality builds contentment, fantasy disappointment.

*


Calm, Peaceful, On



Once I center my mind I can type in the dark.
All it takes is me present and willing to flow.
Limber up the learning curve,
press my fingers to the keys,

Let the story tell its tale.
Cease the interjections lest it all go stale.
There is nothing much to know,
It’s all inside, I just let it go.

Emptying this crowded vault,
I open up to prevent assault.
What to do when it hits the page;
marketing is all the rage,
but for this task I need a light.
To sell myself I must be bright.



Vlog: http://youtu.be/QpbtJlNkWto

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 15

GOOSE


I round this corner nearly every day. There in the field stands a flock of problems pecking the ground and flapping their wings. Uniform and regular, the honking and squawking is undistinguishable from yesterday. I ponder and squint; are these the same or yet another gaggle making their way along a migratory path? Trouble is feral, skulking the edges of the field but never sheltering in the yard. I must leave my hands off, knowing these are not mine. The feathers fly and I gather the strays acutely aware of the ticklish nature of this. Awkwardly I face the truth, no matter how much of a perplexity this is to me or to others, it is only geese.


Run because you want to and the starter’s whistle won’t bother you.
*


Crazy Time


Picking the right time to be crazy
seems to be the key to getting away with it.
Wanting to get away with it slants the field a tad.

What crazy is, changes from place to place,
which puts all the more emphasis on the timing.
The surrounding company and barometric pressure,
play parts and put on airs.

Lighting, lighting must also be involved,
I assure you I don’t know how
and can’t calculate the Ohms,
but I flip the switches in case it helps.

I have mapped for you a fair amount more than I know.
I wish you well on your attempt,
for crazy is a kindred club,
I would hate for you to feel inept.


Vlog: http://youtu.be/hbmrf8CaJnE

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 16

GOOD SAMARITAN PIE


The meal prepared from my cognition, the bread and jam of humility, salad of expectation, roast of determination and Good Samaritan pie, wait on the table to be devoured. The courses pass and come dessert my kindly intentions are cut to wedges and pushed from setting to setting. I can, with dollop after dollop, cover the requisite desires of this tart in an attempt to deny my addiction to fixing or I can serve up the plain truth. I help and help and wander down roads looking for lost puppies to return to their homes. I must admit my longing to lend support is sometimes half-baked, and if kept to home and hearth it might serve me better and make a sweeter dish. Assistance is best in proportion to the meal. I must live my life and save my pie till last.


Hold each other's hands but explore.
*
Touch Your Toes


Funny how we deal with feet.
I have seen a woman cradle hers
and treat it like the dearest babe.

I know some folks who shun their feet;
can barely stand to think of them,
let alone to touch them.

There are the Mani-Pedi people
who leave it in the hands of others.
I met a guy who soaks them soft
and tucks little bits of cotton
under the corners of his nails.

I know too,
the woman with the snarling crusty dogs
that serve to others as a warning.

My grandma warns me
not complain about my shoes
lest I meet the man who has no feet,
but I doubt I would fit in his.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/7eUgwQQ5ZPI

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 17

POPCORN FLAVORED LOLLIPOP


I can’t know it. I can’t believe it. The world of popcorn flavored lollipops is now being visited upon me. Both a surprise and a comfort, a popcorn flavored lollipop is given to me by the gas station attendant. A blast of sugar and salt waken my tongue. What can a mind do in the face of a buttered, salted bonbon on a stick? I wouldn’t have thought of it, not in a million years. This is somehow a source of hope to me. There are open-minded people living in the world around me. I often pray for creative thinking on the part of my Higher Power; I inadvertently dismiss the populace who is producing prodigies of ingenious originality and cunning. I want the world to be gifted with what sobriety has given me. Candy is not world peace but many great things start with a little sweetness.


Real rules can’t be broken.
*



Not My Best Friend

No matter how tightly I hug a lump of coal
I will not prevail in turning it into a diamond.
Some days I accept this better than others.

My desire may affect the coal,
but this affect is not diamond producing;
though it is stress producing.

I know it stresses me and chills me to the bone.
I had thought of coal as warming,
but the disparate love of coal proves to be anything but.

I have pinned my hopes
on what this lump had the potential to become
rather than acceptance of what it is and now.

I see I must light my own fire
and know the coal is not mine.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/KujCorrb7d4

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 18

WATER PROOF


What could water prove anyway? I get in the water and I get wet. I’m sure there is a theorem but a proof is highly doubtful. Naiads dance with tridents in their hands illustrating the beauty and danger of the waves but this certifies nothing. Juiceless arid dirt can make no claims either. I see the ducks take flight pushing the air with their wings and the rivulets trailing from webs. This is the thing to scoot beneath at the surface, take sustenance and pleasure, but never to become so saturated that the air is lost. Waterproof… is the way to go.


Give preconceived notions a place on the shelf or in the can but no place in your life.
*



Lame

I easily identify the big mistakes of my life,
but fail to recognize or report the little mistakes
that I make, mistakes, which cost me so much.

Repetitive irresponsibility has the effect of water torture;
drip, drip, drip and my peace of mind is worn away.
What can I say of what I refuse to see?

It was there all along like the view covered by the shade.
Who is to blame for not raising the curtain?
It may be me, may not, but I am the one who suffers,
I am the one who misses out.

Missing the opportunity to grow out of these
small deficiencies leaves me with a lifelong handicap
and I am not just speaking of my blindness,
but also how they make me lame.


Vlog: http://youtu.be/qcBxKOeyusw

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
[ame="http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane"]Amazon.com: Sober On The Way To Sane (9781440417344): Sherrie T.: Books[/ame]
[ame="http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life"]More Lines From My Life: Sherrie Theriault: 9781448677207: Amazon.com: Books[/ame]

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 19

ALMOST TWINS


You and I are more alike than different yet we cannot get along, though I ponder why this surprises me so. A cloud and a watermelon are 98% the same and no one would mistake them in a crowd or expect them to be companionable except in the way of two things existing in the universe. My expectation of liking you for our similarities is set up by my fear that I don’t like myself, but the joke is on me. My dislike of you is not a reflection of anything but time and space. My friends are the people who like me, not necessarily the ones who are like me. The president didn’t like broccoli without slurring its good name and I can dislike you without inferring you’re a vegetable.


Enjoy the approach as well as the work.
*

Scalene


Strangeness is attracting, I don’t try to deny it.
I have looked longingly at oddness
and every skewed thing.

Though I try to divert my gaze the acute angles
draw me back to peer again and again.
Strange attractors have an unexplainable beauty to me.

The wane charisma digs its hooks into my soul
and I carry it off like a burr stuck to my hide.
What does this say of me, I am not sure?

What does it say of the sidelong loves of mine?
Volumes, I think it speaks volumes,
all of it unknown to me.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/-O2YEH4nyRk


You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 20

COOCOO’S NEST


I ran away to join the zoo hoping a life contained would calm me. The segregation hit me first; isolated exclusively with those of my stripe drove my thirst for diverse scents and opinion. Next, the monotony of the landscape bore into my brain. The well-meaning effort of the keepers bears the mark of folks who go home at night. The blandness of the food and music lent nothing to the experience, and antiseptic could drive anyone wild. The final blow, the one that struck constantly and coldly, was the stream of observers waiting to be entertained.


Embrace plain tools and fine minds.

*

Home Fires Burning

I have trouble living with myself,
that is why I live with you.
It takes my mind off the things I don’t wish to face.

What I can busy myself within your service
lightens the load of expectation heaped in my DNA
by my Higher Power and Fate.

Worry is time consuming
and I wile away hours fretting over you
and all your unresolved trifles
while turning my back entirely on my life.

I couldn’t be happier to have you,
though from the corner of my eye
I glimpse God packing your bags.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/EPIQNgKAmmY

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 21

WHAT’S MINE IS MINE


I don’t always know how to get the dog off the baby. The attacks are often sudden and always swift. My shock at the reality delays my response, falters my steps and fogs my mind. What should I do to disengage this assault? What can I do that won’t make things worse? How can I resolve this now? The pain is almost unimaginable but yet all too familiar. It all comes down to ownership. I must admit this baby is me. I have to face facts; this dog is my pet, I have fed, nurtured and groomed him and now I have to put this dog to sleep.


Explore the air not just the dirt.
*


A Thousand Windowed House

I am like a house with a thousand windows.
When I am lit up inside
you can see all the way through;

When I go dark
the reflection of the world around me is all
that is visible when you look my way.

My sprawling mind is what creates this effigy of me.
A tribute when I am well tended
and a fire trap when I neglect my duties.

If I learn to celebrate in all the rooms
this house is my home,
so I must practice; dance and sing in the hallways.

So I can pirouette into the rooms with full voice.
For what is the point of being a house
with a thousand windows, if I don’t live there?

Vlog: http://youtu.be/R31c3Ax_Sw0

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 23

TRUE VOICE


Some tears pour from my eyes and others from my heart. What once was a head-game and theory is now heartfelt and real. I have grown in my compassion, leaving qualification on the curb. Letters and notice mean so little in the full-out scheme of all the world; like fashion, what is true today, stood on and dependable, is next years joke and off-hand reference. The thump of the muscle deep within me is a compass I can trust. The daily tide of splash and rush can spring water to my face, but what rouses my spirit is much more. I needn’t worry for its receding or discount that it is faithful; it abides with me still and will keep me if I let it. Some sounds ring from my voice; others resonate from within, these are the ones that last.


Aim is as important as a strong arm.

*

Entrée Entrée


I am not one to order an appetizer,
I prefer the main meal.
Even if I carry the majority of the entrée home
I like to have it all there before me.

Knowing there is enough, might I want it,
means peace of mind
and I can relax and eat what I wish.
That’s how much I fear.

Fear opening my mouth to ask for more.
Fear not anticipating my actual appetite.
Fear of having nothing to show for my evening out.

What could it all be like
had I felt free of rules and public policy
that must be carried out in private?

I might never know,
but what I do know is
that I need to overcome this.

Not because of starving children near or far,
not to eliminate the science experiments
of mold growth and wilted lettuce in my frig,

But in order that I have a chance to have my desert
and eat it too
and leave the rest unordered.


Vlog: http://youtu.be/xKD5QInmQak


You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[girlin2une]

Originally Posted by LeftWriteFemme

December 19

ALMOST TWINS


You and I are more alike than different yet we cannot get along, though I ponder why this surprises me so. A cloud and a watermelon are 98% the same and no one would mistake them in a crowd or expect them to be companionable except in the way of two things existing in the universe. My expectation of liking you for our similarities is set up by my fear that I don’t like myself, but the joke is on me. My dislike of you is not a reflection of anything but time and space. My friends are the people who like me, not necessarily the ones who are like me. The president didn’t like broccoli without slurring its good name and I can dislike you without inferring you’re a vegetable.


Enjoy the approach as well as the work.
*

Scalene


Strangeness is attracting, I don’t try to deny it.
I have looked longingly at oddness
and every skewed thing.

Though I try to divert my gaze the acute angles
draw me back to peer again and again.
Strange attractors have an unexplainable beauty to me.

The wane charisma digs its hooks into my soul
and I carry it off like a burr stuck to my hide.
What does this say of me, I am not sure?

What does it say of the sidelong loves of mine?
Volumes, I think it speaks volumes,
all of it unknown to me.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/-O2YEH4nyRk


You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

Another excerpt I love!

[girlin2une]

Originally Posted by LeftWriteFemme

December 18

WATER PROOF


What could water prove anyway? I get in the water and I get wet. I’m sure there is a theorem but a proof is highly doubtful. Naiads dance with tridents in their hands illustrating the beauty and danger of the waves but this certifies nothing. Juiceless arid dirt can make no claims either. I see the ducks take flight pushing the air with their wings and the rivulets trailing from webs. This is the thing to scoot beneath at the surface, take sustenance and pleasure, but never to become so saturated that the air is lost. Waterproof… is the way to go.


Give preconceived notions a place on the shelf or in the can but no place in your life.
*



Lame

I easily identify the big mistakes of my life,
but fail to recognize or report the little mistakes
that I make, mistakes, which cost me so much.

Repetitive irresponsibility has the effect of water torture;
drip, drip, drip and my peace of mind is worn away.
What can I say of what I refuse to see?

It was there all along like the view covered by the shade.
Who is to blame for not raising the curtain?
It may be me, may not, but I am the one who suffers,
I am the one who misses out.

Missing the opportunity to grow out of these
small deficiencies leaves me with a lifelong handicap
and I am not just speaking of my blindness,
but also how they make me lame.


Vlog: http://youtu.be/qcBxKOeyusw

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
Amazon.com: Sober On The Way To Sane (9781440417344): Sherrie T.: Books
More Lines From My Life: Sherrie Theriault: 9781448677207: Amazon.com: Books

Truth.....