Friends of Bill W.

[DMW]

God help me be better than that. God help me.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 26

TO SLOOP

When I was a tanker I carried such a heavy load. The diesel cycle ran, combustion occurred at regular intervals and my internal temperature was terrific. The fuel sprayed and things went round and round; the cost was high. Now my principal means of propulsion is the wind in my sails. Conversion was difficult, and though I found the rigging and mast a fascination, the ballast was a heavy load to bear. The price of stability is responsibility. Cargo is something short-lived, to be cast off at the next port. Incumbent discretion is welded to my keel and will go with me to every harbor. As a tankard, liquid was transported or consumed; as a cutter, dependability keeps me tacking into the wind. Now, my outlay is low and my rewards are high. I carry only what I need. I am free, a sloop upon the sea.


Map your body.
*

Keds

If I gave a child a pair of sneakers
would I refuse to help them to tie them on?
Would I want this kid to wear them open,
tongues hanging out, laces dangling and dangerous?

Or worse would I want the child
to have to lug the sneakers around;
the kid feeling the need to treasure the gift
and protect it from use or wear?

I hope that I would not be this sick,
misguided or deranged.
I have to say that I have given up believing
in a crazy God.

But this doesn’t mean that I can’t
drive God crazy with my insane behavior.
I have to stick my feet inside my shoes
and lift my foot for help.

I must open my mouth to ask,
then pay close attention so I can learn
to do it on my own;
all the while not beating myself up
that I can’t do it already.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 27

GRAFT


The bottom has been cut out, my underpinnings stripped from me. Budding ambition whittled down, transplanted, saddled onto the rock like stock of other people’s sobriety. Taped to the leg of my sponsor I heal and grow. I splice my thinking with the rich ideas of improved living. I cling to the cleft; divisions made from the people, places and things of my past leave me split, primed for fresh growth and opportunity. Never again do I need return to the sordid acquisition of power or control. There is no gain when I am bolted to position and influence. Graft is graft for good or bad. I don’t have to grow where I was planted.


Subtract your assets from your defects.

*
Un-imbedded

This week I have decided to be braver
about where I invest my time, not all of it mind you
but a portion of my diligent yet strangely unproductive time.

I have to say I am realizing that I hide
in pretty much every area of my life
and that is no way to live
and a really bad example to offer.

The worst thing about hiding is it doesn't keep me safe;
it just subjects me to different evils.
It reminds me of that poor reporter
who was imbedded in a tank.

He died from not moving, his blood pooling and dehydration,
so the tank kept him from getting his head shot off,
but killed him in a different way,
so in the end he wasn't safe and neither am I.

I believe in prudence as a good policy, I do,
but there is much that could make me
stronger, happier, better,
if I lift my head a bit and reach out my hand.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 28

JUXTAPOSITION


Right next to this world is the globe that I came from. The landmarks are similar but these spheres have little in common. The angle of refraction illuminates the place of my origin. The source of this light is legend. On my home planet, the existence of sobriety is cast off as myth. I held on to this tale with my heart. I slipped the gravitational bonds of crazy one night by the glow of the ready button on the coffeepot. Here and there intersect at only one point, a room with some chairs and a circle with a triangle. The meeting was on Step One and it was a good place to jump in.


Put a leaf on your tongue just for fun.

*
Clap

I know how to put my hands together,
but I am unable to clap.
It’s not that my palms can’t locate each other;
it’s that I cannot find the beat.

I sing; lilting rhythms rolling from my tongue.
I keep time and drum the tattoo of jingle dress dance songs,
but when my hand comes against its mate something is off.

Faltering nuance plays havoc with my exuberant desire.
I want to join the crowd in syncopated applause,
yet my brain drops out.

Because the gap is too far to leap
I must walk around to the other side
and by then I’ve lost the moment,
the world has moved on without me.

I used to think I needed to run my routine a little faster,
but now I realize I need to learn to leap the gap
and trust the beat to find me.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 29

2 CHAIRS



Math is the language that moves closest to the speed of my brain. The language of recovery slows my thinking so I am more than numbers and clicks. I need not race my mind in an effort to win. I am my prize; the victory is mine if I can embrace who I am. I can use numbers to figure whether I am more or less, but owning who I am must be given to the talk of the soul and heart. My nashamah is not an astral projection to be theorized but the seat of my emotions. The only way to discover myself is through deep and loving conversation, so I had best pull up two chairs.


Play colors like music.
*

The Regulator


Face to face the clock stares me down.
I nearly dare the mismatched hands
to beat me at my part.
Their never-ending round-house
drops me to the ground.

My foot work is no equal for eternity.
Fancy days and star lit nights distract me
from the fight I’m losing,
directing my thoughts to what I gain.

If I turn with the hours,
dwelling in the moments,
the clock and I are friends,
no more mad-dogging, no time to lose.

Time is with me till the end,
it is not the death of me;
it’s the time of my life.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 30

DEFINITIONS


I am close to my Higher Power but I have no words to describe It. I have found it best to say nothing unless asked. When I do speak, it is always about the path I took or the way I held my face. I know the things that changed, and the wind that blew. This is not the sketch most people seek. My skin is brown and my smile broad; this is not from over-exposure to beams of light. Closeness warms me. I glow from standing near. I know the face and form is different for every day; I must not stop for definitions.


Taste silence and smell the words.
*




The Acts of Hope

I cover my head when I pray
in hopes that God wants me sheltered.
I attend meetings to keep alive the hope
that sobriety is the end of isolation.

I talk to the people in my network
hoping I have something helpful to share.
I sit down to the blank page with hopes
that HP still chooses to collaborate with me.

I pick up my paintbrush filled with hope
that color is still my friend.
I inhale air along with hope that each breath
is worth the effort and I am worthy of this life.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 31

MY BABIES


Too often I have abandoned the infants of my creativity to doorways and charities. Having little patience I did not raise them to their intended station. Joyful parentage need not stop at the cutting of the cord. Downplaying the importance of each birth, I would leave beauty and art to be foundlings and the province of others. I can share the guardianship of these precious gifts and be more than a brood mare for cunning and craft. I have neglected things apparent for the promise of each new conception. Overpopulation weakens the body of my work and leaves my portfolio listless and immature.


Touch your finger with your nose.
*

Charmed by Snow


Warm weather snow falls in fat full flakes;
I am living in a world of dreams and sweet peas.
Sudden dustings sparkle and surprise
leaving as quickly as they came;
yet the world is kinder now.

Beauty is an ambush of the heart.
My breath alters, accelerates,
speeding me to a smile, an illustration of joy.

Crows walk the edge of the hedgerow,
prattling on as they do;
snow to their ankles and food on their minds.
I drive over the mountains
discovering myself as the recipient,
the receiver of all this great gift, this life.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 1

GAME PLAYING

My Higher Power doesn’t play me like a board game, doesn’t monopolize my time or put me in jeopardy. My trouble is my own. I pursue trivia at my discretion. I take or reject risk at will. I scrabble my thoughts and am sorry when I make mistakes but don’t expect to live in a candyland. When I stick my hand in the mouse trap, or fall down the shoots and need to climb the ladders, I know the game may not be over, but it is far too late to play let’s make a deal.


Keep a game with you.

*
Porcellano


Some days I feel like a porcelain doll;
hard head, hard hands, hard feet
and everywhere else is soft, gormless.

I feel useless and act out my feelings,
stumbling through a day of pointless inactivity.
I know that I belong on a shelf
or propped upon the pillows of a bed,
not fine enough for curio or collection,
merely someone of marginal decorative value.

I have gotten away from the meaning of me,
the thrum of God’s intentions
and am trapped in this world of elaboration;
everything is embellished and nothing is real.

It is time to put my foot down.
To feel the earth solid and right;
to catch my mind and take it out
of its greasy spin from what is descent.

I am not a China doll
and it is time to walk away
from these purloined thoughts

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 2

TOOTH FAIRY


I slide my hand under the pillow and am disappointed not to find a quarter. I feel I deserve one though I didn’t leave a tooth; I did leave my bite. I’ve toned down my bark a bit too. It has not been easy; I have spent much of my life snapping and growling at the world around me. I have shortened the leash on these reactive behaviors, many I have put to bed all together. Improved conduct is prize enough but I surely would enjoy a winged visitor if only just for fun.


Applaud your performance.
*

In Plain Sight

When there is a problem, I hide.
As the good places diminish
I end up standing behind a pole.

The trouble with this is
that something always sticks out.
I try weight loss, I suck in my tummy,
I try to blend with the scenery.

Once spotted I act nonchalant;
“I’m just hanging around with my skinny friend;
nothing is the matter,” attempting to cover
with a casual aside what is apparent to everyone but me.

I would be better off parading naked
than endeavoring this piteous disguise.
I can’t fool the crowd and trying to makes a fool of me.

What I have forgotten is that clarity and diligence
removes the target from my back
and makes me invisible to almost everyone.
When I solve my problem I solve this problem too.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 3

SHARING


Please take a bite of my PB&J. I made it myself. It is fine as it is. I slathered the bread and cut it so neatly; still I can’t help but want to offer some to you. I know that to stand and smile next to you, watch you lick the peanut butter from the roof of your mouth, have you dab the jelly from the corner of my lips, will make this sandwich even better. You bring so much to this meal, something bright and so clever. You bring you. I can pull things together and set it all up but somehow my creation is never quite complete until I share it with you.


Withhold a convoy of criticism, advance a brigade of cheer.
*

Big Name

My name has a foreign sound;
my head turns when it is called.
I recognize this as training not identity.

I remember teaching the dog her name.
I called it while petting and praising her,
soon the name was hers.

Now, I think of God.
Did we call long and loud enough
to trigger name recognition on a vast intangible?

Is this how we tagged and labeled the unknowable;
assigned it a place on a shelf;
somewhere to be called up from?

Does the noise sound as strange as the syllables
of my name sound to me?
Does it matter as long as we answer?

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 4

ACCESS



Writing to you, my Sweet, allows me to give what I have available at the moment it comes into my possession. You reading me lets you invite me in when you are ready or willing, possibly both. I can store succulent treasure for you without the least consideration of freezer burn or apathy. You are here when I want you, yearning and prepared. I am yours for the taking in the classroom, the bedroom, or even in your bath. I can whisper or shout to you, rant or tell jokes at you. You can embrace or ignore me, introduce me to friends or keep me your own personal province. We are intimates because I bare my soul to you and you take me into yours.


Recommend your assets.
*

Sleep Tight

Did you dream?
Sleep the sleep of faultless souls?
Or twist the sheets
as in that Gilbert & Sullivan treatment?

Are night time wrestlings an indication
of decadent daytime activity?
Or is it all simply a matter of happenstance?
Possibly something I ate, thought, wished for?

I think to myself,
I should not have gotten into that unmade bed,
should have made it up; the bed and my mind,
should have straighten out the crumpled mass
of discarded dreams from yesterday and started fresh

But instead I climbed in with it all tumbled and tossed,
lumpy and coarse, no smooth sailing in this tangled sea.
What time I would have saved by leveling
the playing field and plumping the pillows.

All is not lost, there is always tonight.
Sweet dreams straight ahead

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 5

STUBBORN


When the donkey won’t move forward it’s time to stop running. No need to make an ass of myself through force or coercion. The dumb animal may be mute but its actions speak. Reluctance is a warning. If my animal nature is balking, listening not shoving is the preferred course. Super intelligence can’t best good horse sense. I must stand with my intuition; that creature depends on my survival for life.


Balance your shoe with your foot.
*

What are We Fighting For

Instead of competition for dominance
we would benefit from cooperation for survival.
The struggle to become the very best destroyers in the world
very well might make us postmortem champions.

Why is it that the lions don’t work to eradiate hyenas?
They could, but they don’t.
Why not, is the ever present question on my mind.

I have no answer as to why we strive to conquer.
A thousand platitudes come to mind,
but nothing fast or tight, nothing that holds water.
So, the question remains; why are we hell bent?

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 6

ALICE


Because I even wore out my welcome at the Mad Hatter’s house, I can sit on my hands at my sponsor's table and listen, listen, listen. If I had been able to make a place for myself with the looking-glass folk, I could never have let myself lose my eccentricities and join in the fellowship. Going down further than a rabbit hole, I lost my need to chase or scramble after bunnies for time or card tricks. No more illusions for me. I am awake and shaded by the tree of AA branching over me. Sisters I didn’t know take my hand.


Dance with change.
*

I didn’t mean to make you laugh

You think I’m witty, well, yes, I have always been like this,
no one knew quite what to do with me as a small child,
but I have grown into this acumen,
or possibly grown out into it, is closer to accurate.

I was dark witted when I was young,
I think of myself as less so now,
optimism is a blessing I have gained through the years,
it feels good and I keep it close.

I need to be a blithe spirit to travel the road I do.
Tears have their place, I know that for sure,
but I rather not go around with a puss on all day and all night.
Additionally it is so much about perspective; you see,
the honey makes the peas taste funny
but now they stick to my knife.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 7

PRESTO!

Just because I own pointy boots doesn’t mean I can corral the cows. I have in my possession many things of subtle intent, but they can’t just transform me. The wings from Halloween don’t make me an angel. The Big Book on the shelf won’t sober me up. Nothing holds the magic to change me. I can only change with help. Action, action and more action is the magician's sleight of hand. It slides my hand from glass to grace. I don’t need to pull a rabbit from my hat.


Play with your oatmeal.

*

I Beg

The embarrassment of need
is a haunting guest who will not leave.
I turn in a tight circle trying to find a way
to detach this wart and move gracefully
from the site of devastation.

But it looms large
and overshadows today’s possibilities
and robs tomorrows gold.
What I cannot do for myself,
the magic I cannot yet perform,
stands between me and contentment.

It stands there wearing your face;
touching my mind with your fingertips.
I pray that you are not the answer
for I cannot depend on you.

I think of you and the little bell rings
and I am hungry.
Desire is a gift, desiring you is the burden
whose shadow I cannot escape.

I close my eyes to the light you emit;
I cannot close my heart, all that’s left is pleading;
please come home and fill me or leave
and lock the door and let me grieve in peace.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 8

PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS


There is a penny in the bathtub. I wonder who stood in there with loose change. Possibly confusing it for a wishing well, the penny was tossed in. The stories I could tell the hopes that tantalize my mind, elves and leprechauns, dreamers and optimists all trundle through my thinking. When I don’t know the answer, I can now at least look for the best, the sweetest thoughts. I don’t run to the dark and threatening disasters. I have lost the lease to my personal black cloud, the one that used to follow wherever I went. I can smile now and think of pennies from heaven. The first drop landed in my tub.


Think of what a spider and a whale have in common.
*

Stand- Hear


The spins and pirouettes I have preformed
in an attempt to avoid facing the music,
were impressive but futile and ultimately
delayed the beauty possible for me in this life.

When I stop my running and turn on my heel
there is a world of harmony waiting
to take me for a turn out on the dance floor.

Melody is not what I was expecting.
I was so sure I would be drummed out of my life,
not trumpeted in.

My surety set in motion much of my convoluted activity
and caused me great distress.
It is high time I listen with eyes open
and my reactions leashed;

Allowing the tune to introduce me to life
and lead me to my bliss.

[DMW]

[nomedia="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLk7JnB1wQ4&feature=related"]10,000 Maniacs - Don't Talk - YouTube[/nomedia]

Don't talk, I will listen
Don't talk, you keep your distance
I'd rather hear some truth tonight
Than entertain your lies
So take you poison silently
Let me be, let me close my eyes
Don't talk, I'll believe it
Don't talk, listen to me instead
I know that if you think of it
Both long enough and hard
The drink you drown your troubles in
Is the trouble you're in now
Talk, talk, talk about it If you talk as if you care
But when your talk is over
Tilt that bottle in the air
Tossing back More than your share
Don't talk, I can guess it
Don't talk, well, now you're restless
And you need somewhere to put the blame
For how you feel inside
You'll look for a close and easy mark
And you'll see me as fair game
Talk, talk, talk about it
You talk as if you care
But when your talk is over
Tilt that bottle in the air
Tossing back More than your share
You talk, talk, talk about it You talk as if you care
I'm marking every word And can tell this time for sure
Your talk is the finest I have heard
So don't talk,
I'm sleeping Don't talk,
let me go on dreaming
How your eyes they glow so fiercely
I can tell that you're inspired
By the name that you just chose for me
Now what was it?
Oh, never mind it
We will talk, talk, talk about this
When your head is clear
I'll discuss this in the morning
But until that you may talk but I won't hear

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 9

HAWAIIAN GRAFFITI

White pebbles spell themselves across the black of lava grown cold. Personal announcements proclaim love, school pride, religious freedom. The care of placement and consideration of design make the roadside an ongoing mineral memo. What message would I care to share? What words would prompt me to bring a pail of crushed marble to the edge of the road? Is there a truth so urgent I would take time from paradise to spell it out? A few more miles and I see the words I live by strewn down the thoroughfare, “it works if you work it.”


Joint your possibilities.

*

Pick up Your Hammer and Saw

The task infers the tool, I know this,
yet I resist clearly mapping my insanity.
I look into the well of my despair
then quickly I look away,

I fear informing God what I need
lest the need be filled.
I need to believe that a power will heal me,
but if I am provided with the force of life,
I shrink from the prospect.

This too, must be added to the list
of my emotional woes and mental shortages.
This too, will be healed.

I look at my problems
and then realize, that like the moon,
who pulls the water from dry shore to dry shore,
solutions are installed in heaven and earth
if I know what the problem is.

[DMW]

" I see", said the blind man....as he picked up his hammer and saw.

LeftWriteFemme, Thank you for posting everyday...come rain or come shine.

[LeftWriteFemme]

Originally Posted by DMW

" I see", said the blind man....as he picked up his hammer and saw.

LeftWriteFemme, Thank you for posting everyday...come rain or come shine.

That is exactly the reference! Thanks for talking the time to come in and read and post here in Friends of Bill!

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 10

MORTIFICATION


Lime with envy, I built a wall around. Love and hate are enclosed, brick and stone. Rigor of extremities, the discipline of ages falls so short. I make no in-depth connections; I coat externals with glue, stack reactions and let the bombs fly. I mix and crush old habits and bad ideas, make a paste. I am setting myself up again. Abstinence becomes the pestle of bludgeoning and abasement. I am hard and I am hollow; with wounded pride, I subjugate my soul. My life is reduced to a powder. I am mortified.


Spread oil from your navel out.
*


Michal Rovner


I have numbered all the blocks in my ancestral walls.
This has enabled me to recreate them
stone by stone everywhere I go.

It all fits to create the tomb I now have to learn to leave.
I must change the equation and reorder the numbers
allowing these rocks to be recycled
and find a wonderful useful life
as a stairway out of this pit of despair.

What was once an edifice to lives unlived
is now able to facilitate elevation,
a restoration of a level playing field.

It was not wrong for me to catalog the stone
and there was no way for me to leave them behind,
but nothing matches the satisfaction of using them to build a life,
except for the ability to live in it.