Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 24


Speak!


Are there songs a bird must not sing while communing with the flock? Do fish learn to restrain their expressions while schooling? Or are we the only animal versed in the language of taboo? I wonder when I hear the cows lowing in the night are they giving whispered voice to things they longed to moo about all day. I know what to keep inside, things too flamboyant for out of doors. I understand to keep body and soul together I must keep down and hush, but when I complain to my pup does she comprehend or is it just blah, blah, blah; in her world of speak maybe it is like it is?




If your pallet is limited broaden your ideas

*


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 neatly
Still I can’t help but want to offer some to you.

I know to stand and smile next to you
Watch you lick the peanut butter from the roof of your mouth
Have you dab jelly from the corner of my lips
Will make this sandwich even better.

You bring so much to this meal
Something bright and 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.

[Tommi]

Originally Posted by LeftWriteFemme

July 24


Speak!


Are there songs a bird must not sing while communing with the flock? Do fish learn to restrain their expressions while schooling? Or are we the only animal versed in the language of taboo? I wonder when I hear the cows lowing in the night are they giving whispered voice to things they longed to moo about all day. I know what to keep inside, things too flamboyant for out of doors. I understand to keep body and soul together I must keep down and hush, but when I complain to my pup does she comprehend or is it just blah, blah, blah; in her world of speak maybe it is like it is?


If your pallet is limited broaden your ideas

*

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 neatly
Still I can’t help but want to offer some to you.

I know to stand and smile next to you
Watch you lick the peanut butter from the roof of your mouth
Have you dab jelly from the corner of my lips
Will make this sandwich even better.

You bring so much to this meal
Something bright and 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.

Both pieces were good to have with breakfast. Somedays it just seems to be exactly what I need.

The world is in such a violent spin right now, I am glad for this place of respite.


and to drink, for today it is Almond Milk.

As always, thanks for keeping the lights on.

Tommi

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 25


Dear G-d

I need help. I need help availing myself of the help you have provided me. I am embarrassed to lack the ability to complete all the steps necessary for achieving the goals you have set before me. I see now that it is always my turn with you and I can stop standing aside believing that I have had your attention and must now do without. I do not want to ask for more; I don’t want to seem greedy. I forget that you know my heart and that you trust me. I am going to make that a two-way street, maybe a four-lane highway. I need help, thank you for being help full.

Love,

Sherrie





The obvious is sometimes invisible

*


ACCESS

Writing to you my Sweet,
Allows me to give what I have available
At the moment it comes into my possession.

You reading 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.

I can rant or tell jokes to you
You can embrace or ignore me
Introduce me to your friends
Or keep me your own personal province.

We are intimates
Because I bare my soul to you
And you take me into yours.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 26



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






Treat adventure as a requirement for life



*


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 in 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.

[Tommi]

Originally Posted by LeftWriteFemme

July 26



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






Treat adventure as a requirement for life



*


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 in 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.

I like your writing style

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 27



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 and he died from not moving and 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.









Defrost things which freeze you in place

*


ALICE

Because I even wore out my welcome
at the Mad Hatters house,
I can sit on my hands at my sponsors table
And listen, listen, listen.

If I had been able to make a place for myself
with the looking glass folk
I could never let myself loose 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.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 28


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.








Engender your actions with optimism

*

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 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 slide of hand.
It slides my hand from glass to grace
I don’t need to pull a rabbit from my hat.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 29





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.








Smuggle your sweetness out from under your cynicism


*

PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS

There is a penny in the bathtub.
I wonder who stood in there with loose change
Possibly confused 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 answers
At least now I can 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 which used to follow wherever I went.

I can smile now
And think of pennies from Heaven
The first drop landed in my tub.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 30





The Acts of Hope

I cover my head when I pray in hopes that G-d 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.






Take your inventory but don’t sell your stock


*

WHAT’S WRONG WITH THIS DUCK

The duck looks fine sitting on the edge,
The rubber face frozen in a permanent grin
The appearance is flawless.
As long as it is not called to duty
No one will ever know.

Stay still---don’t jump.
When dropped into the water
This creature born for the tub
Lays on its side, one eye looking at the ceiling
The other straight at the bottom.

Floating is occurring but something is oh so wrong.
As indelicate as it may seem
This duck needs a big squeeze
No kid gloves and tender touches.

This duck has sucked in old bathwater
And misused ideas
Only a big push in the right direction
Will get this rancid stuff out.

Though the duck will get bend out of shape
There is no reason it can’t bounce back
That’s the wonderful thing about rubber
It is flexible and resilient
Even if it doesn’t always volunteer.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 31



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.




Trek to the edge of your comfort zone and map it out




*

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 reaction 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
Wounded pride, I subjugate my soul
My life is reduced to a powder, I am mortified.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 1

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 G-d’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. I am not a China doll and it is time to walk away from these purloined thoughts.




Wear a white cotton cord around your waist

*

I KNOW



I know more than I understand.
I know more than I let on.
I know right from wrong
Left from right, uphill from down.

I know you have my best interest at heart
I know I often don’t.
I know it hurts when I fall
But holding on isn’t easy.

I know that wanting is not needing
And needing is not enough
I know old thinking breeds old action
But new thinking is often wild
And requires two minds for review.

I know to look three ways before crossing the street
Because trouble sometimes hits head on.
I know that if life is the question, yes is the answer

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 2


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.




Permit anxiety to drip off you and flow away


*

WALKING JOY HOME

I make sure to walk joy home,
Not because I doubt her ability to find it alone
Rather because it gives me extra time with her.

I used to fear joy.
That I would be intoxicated by her presents
And lose my well-hardened grasp on realism.

Now I see that without joy in my life there is no realism
That it was only cynicism
Masquerading in its place.

Joy is simple and unassuming,
I often confuse her with ecstasy and scoot away in shy terror
Joy is nice to have around she is not just a party animal.

Sometimes I invite her over for a cup of tea.
When we are done I take the winding path
To savor every step up to her door.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 3



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 G-d. 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 that noise sound as strange as the syllables of my name sound to me? Does it matter as long as we answer?






Check for low doorbells and high expectations

*

PARADOX OF PARADISE

Paradise is created when I collect paradox and live with it.
Paradise is the set of acceptance and suspended disbelief.
If anything is possible accepting what comes is less heart wrenching.

If I arrest my misgivings
Gratification in the voluptuousness of now ---is velvet.
Vague consent is a Hell of incapacity.

Fighting fiercely for both sides
Keeps the heart pumping and the mind at bliss.
I must work to embrace contradiction and happiness
.
There is more than one path to take
And I must take that one.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 4




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 day- time 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 might have saved by leveling the playing field and plumping the pillows. All is not lost, there is always tonight. Sweet dreams straight ahead.




Throw the ball even if you can’t pitch it

*

NEVER LET GO

When it grows dark on one side of transparency
The other becomes reflective.
When addiction doesn’t hold a flame for me
I see the true face of its results.

Because I know now the destructive possibilities
I must print the picture and post it on the wall.
For the day may come when addiction appears
As a light for me and the mirror will be gone.

I need to keep clear the truth even when my eyes lie to me
And my sensibilities catch on fire.
The glass can be the boundary or the tumbler,
The glare of day can be harsh or bright.

Light is forever shifting
I cannot count on shadows for predictions.
I must know it when I see it, chant it to remember
And hold hands and never let go.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 5



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 my head, but nothing fast or tight, nothing that holds water. So, the question remains; why are we hell bent?







Welcome help
*

MY TALE

I must be my own tattletale.
I must give my sponsor bullets to shoot down my disease
Anything I nurture and protect will grow and take me over.

It is up to me to choose if I will feed my ailment or my health
My life will be consumed that is a guarantee,
All things feed into others.

The direction this meal takes is my daily decision.
The bull’s eye can be hit if I describe the target.
The ending will be happy if the story I tell is my own.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 6



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 at least now they stick to my knife.





Assign colors to numbers

*

I AM

I am my own hope.
The spring of willingness flows within me
And makes everything possible.

I am my own dream.
Colors and sprinkles fly in my mind
And mix with a sprite’s laugh
And make me enchanted.

I am my own joy.
Filled with wonder and delight,
My quick turns and ready mind warm
My heart and pink my checks.

I am my own prize.
New and exciting everyday
That I am myself, I win.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 7



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, 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, but 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 can’t 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.







Treat your health like your job, treat your health like your investment, treat your health like your life; it is

*

ROCK BOTTOM PRICES

Marble topped dressers, dry sinks and wardrobes,
Stand in the auctioneer’s warehouse
Showing loving use and obvious value.

The hungry consumers peruse the merchandise
Looking for the perfect pieces
To fit their need.

Old men eating ice cream sandwiches pick their way through
The rows of tidbits laid out on the lawn,
Bargains to fill odd spaces and little desires.

So like out meeting places, people trying to refurnish their lives.
The cost to arrive may have been high
But once in, the market is more than fair.

We reclaim relics and we use them as road signs and warnings.
There is always someone around to carry large truths home
And no one has to go away empty handed.

We bid on our own survival by buying someone else a break.
Time passes easily as the one at the podium
Recounts the rock bottom prices.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 8


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.





Let bad habits run away from home; pack their bags when you can

*

DON’T BE

Don’t be stupid.
Don’t be crazy.
Don’t be anything out of the ordinary.

Don’t be angry.
Don’t be hateful.
Just don’t be that way.

Don’t be sad.
Don’t be mopy
Smile fore the camera and pretend for everyone.

I often wondered why I felt like dyeing
And it took me years to understand why,
Don’t be, equals = Death.

Don’t feel.
Don’t cry.
Don’t love
.
Life is about action, presence and content.
You’re wrong if you break the rules
And dead if you keep them.

So please don’t be Them.
Look back when you have to
But step out of the grave.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 9



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 G-d 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.





Experiment, start living a dream


*
COMFORT AND WILLINGNESS

Closer than comfort is willingness.
Comfort is at the skin
But willingness is under it.

I can live without comfort
But not without willingness
Both are unseen but felt deeply.

Willingness drives to the destination
And comfort settles me in once there.
Comfort is a gift like warmth,
Willingness is a gift like breath.

I have been tempted to let go of willingness
To hold onto comfort.
True willingness brings true comfort
Never the other way around.

No matter where I have to go
Willingness will take me there,
I hope comfort will follow.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 10




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 stones 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.






Take a look at yourself from a distance


*
THE SEDUCTION OF SOBRIETY

I was seduced away from my duties
As an alcoholic by the promise of sobriety,
Allegiance to my disease was sidelined.

Alluring stability and beguiling integrity
Curried favor with my desperate heart,
Pulling me from the arranged marriage of addiction.

How could I cling to the corpse of dependence
When sanity shimmered just out of reach,
Then not out of reach but within my grasp.

I couldn’t resist the golden flicker of life.
I had been bound to death
Unable to see an alternative.

My loyalty to loss and grief slipped from me
And I limped into the daylight,
Like the widow of the night.

I have been lured to my senses
By a love like no other,
The love of life.