11-01-2013, 04:01 AM | #2041 |
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November 1
Entrenched I have dug myself a trench and invited my friends and family. Truth is, I drug many and tricked others and there they are in the trench I have so recently climbed out of. It is a nasty place and I feel horribly responsible, but here is the sacred truth; I can’t climb down there again, not even on a rescue mission. I am obligated to help them, this is for sure, but the fact still remains that it is not safe to get into the water with a drowning person, even if I am the one who caused the drowning. If I am to be of any help at all I must get my footing and keep it safely on the bank and only then might I be able to throw down a rope or lend a hand to anyone, especially those I love. I pray for the sturdy stance of helpful strangers and try my best to cause no further harm, more than that will have to wait until my cleats are soundly lodged into the earth and my head is squarely upon my shoulders, for headlong and mud covered I am no help. Topple trivial towers * MY MOTHERS FACE The way that age pours down my mothers face When she is sad reminds me That grief runs through my blood. Generation after generation Has been transfused with anxious woe. Heartbreak vexes minds full of fear. There is no easy way To round the bend on sharp pointed issues The route is circuitous. I battle the chaotic thinking to fight my way back To a place where my mothers eyes sparkle As they squint closed with her smile. The war of peace is not easily won by contemporaries. We must close ranks between the ages To keep the joy from sheeting off our skin And keep the sadness in proportion. Restore us to our possible bliss We can over take ecstasy from there. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-02-2013, 07:16 AM | #2042 |
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November 2
Desert Island When I am left to amuse myself, more often than not I turn my wicked wit to redress those whose neglect, I sorely feel; this is childish. This is pointless and yet I do it and do it well. I am, too good at being alone and I resent it and resent every necessity for honing that skill set. When in the past I have made my mind up to accept seclusion each overture is a slashing intrusion. I am not a happy medium, though I do doubt if such a thing exists. I am an attention seeker when I am not I am an isolation monger. The wavering nature of human interaction is an uncertain sea for me, alternating downing me or leaving me washed- up on some remote shore. Even amid those I love the most, I am a skinless writhing neonate, hyper-reactive and living on the edge. I somehow know the answer is self-esteem or spiritual development, but when in the midst of this imprudent reaction the paths to these are lost. I try to hold my breath when underwater, when on the beach I try not to breathe the sand. If I survive today I may grow out of this tomorrow. Make peace with your pillow before bedtime * DESERVING Tender toes crushed by moving memories Fresh pain from ancient injuries Shock incurred from these lifeless reminiscence Unhappy reconstructions slap inspecting faces. The people who stood by To let the chips fall where they may Try to pretend innocent bystanders now That shit is falling from the sky. Unexposed skin will burn when the flames leap high Idiotic excuses will not retard the fire Of injustice coming to call Too late tears carry no freight with the past recipients Of the “It all runs down hill” award. Cowards make themselves cripples And fracture at the force of incoming reality And deserve more than they get. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-03-2013, 06:03 AM | #2043 |
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November 3
Liminal Not everything which is birthed arrives here alive; sometimes struggle is answered with stillness. I love thee in thy loss for there is no life to love thee in. Hope can be a bubble that breaks returning to whatever it was before that perfect roundness and yet the roundness is not a mistake. Reflected beauty is beauty all the same. Some sparks aren’t meant to become flames, but their glow still warms my eye. Wage old wars only in the past and never in the present * DOWN THE UPSIDE On the downside of a rising star there is too much fear Anticipation is recommended for ascent, delight should be encouraged But all out alarm is usually sounded whether it is needed or not. Panic dims the shining pleasure of mounting the sky. Refuting celestial status, denying astral projection, I renounce myself. Attaining height, my position in space is apparent To bystanders and onlookers. I need to ride the comet and accept fate my nemesis Fortune shines on me I should not squint away kismet. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-04-2013, 05:08 AM | #2044 |
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November 4
Bride in a Bentley Who determines your worth, the one who sets your ransom or the one who pays it? Will you recognize yourself once you have been bought and paid for? Will your life exist upon your return? How many times has the road and its inhabitance taken me far from what I’ve known and extorted an exorbitant remuneration for restoration? Redeemed is what they call it when the price is met, yet this might not be the feeling it evokes. Deliverance is never 100% and reclamation is not always possible, so keep your mind free, but know your own worth. Count the fingers on one hand * TIMELY Spent a minute to rub the sleep Gently from your eyes. Spend an hour smoothing lotion From one end to the other. Spend a week researching your goals Dreams and hopes. Spend a month routing energy To a viable flow. Spend a life living it Your life is worth all the time you have Take it. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-05-2013, 05:17 AM | #2045 |
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November 5
MISS DIRECTED I called and rambled at my sponsor. After a significant time had passed, she stopped me and asked with a tone in her voice, “and why are you calling me?” Startled, I replied, “for your advice!” “Are you sure that’s why you called? Because I can give you my advice, but I have given advice to you before and received only a severe case of the ‘Yeah, Buts’ in return.” I was about to say ‘yeah, but you don’t understand’ when she cleared her throat to quiet me and continued what she was saying. “Seems to me you really want more than a sober ear, you want magic. You want me to take your crazy, dramatic thinking, put it in a hat and pull it out formed, as all your dreams, and then you want credit for making it happen. But, Kitten, I have news for you, I’m not Mr. Roark and this is not Fantasy Island. This is sobriety and you can’t just have your way.” This is when I realized I was on a dry drunk. I don’t know what the first signs are, but I do know when your sponsor asks, “and you’re calling me, why?” the jig is up. Time your stubbornness * MAIL FRAUD The open envelope alludes to the tampering I suspect. Too bad my critics are snooping not my supporters. When they are finished tearing open my mail They tear me apart as well. Shredded, I feel unable to handle further correspondence I shut down communications There is no channel for benefactors to travel. My champions are at a loss To defend me from my opponents The struggle flounders. Misunderstanding the meaning of messages I have been mocked and enslaved. I would love to vanquish my foes But you see I am opening my own mail. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-06-2013, 05:10 AM | #2046 |
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November 6
Natural Law The boat captain can’t change the river; navigate it possibly, but rule it never. Birds don’t control the wind, only capitalize on it. I can’t reign my sobriety; I just get to take the ride. My choices greatly affect the quality of this journey but not the nature of recovery itself. I am powerless over gravity but am thrilled at my ability to use it to my advantage. Desperate imitation is just that * MEMORIAL DAY Veteran of the addiction wars I have scars but few metals. I don’t need a purple heart Mine is black and blue. I don’t keep trophies either No empty bottles or old syringes. Hostages I have released them too. I found often they held me From what my life could be. I wear my defects and wave my flag. I am slowly learning to live in peacetime. The big battles have been won. It is up to me to stop replaying The scenes of engagement. Armistice is a beautiful thing Too bad there is no better way to get it. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-07-2013, 06:17 AM | #2047 |
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November 7
Let the Groundhog Sing It Mistakes and poor choices save me from attempting to climb out onto moral high ground. Moral ambiguity keeps me protected from the illusion of relentless righteousness. Lopsided living is a fate I am spared due to my flawed execution of perfection; all in a days work for a functional human. Left by the wayside is the fantasy that I am all right. Be a timekeeper and a dream-maker * NUZZLES OFFERING Like a vegan kitten who wrestles Long tailed leaves and twigs Subduing them and dragging these prizes To the feet of human parents I fight paper tigers and bring the tatters As tributes to my Higher Power. These bloodless battles are pure practice Future wars may not be as clean. I cannot enlist my God To fight these skirmishes. I would never believe in one that could. I accept Deus as creator and cheerleader But champion-----No Foliage and foes are mine to fight. The spoils I bring back For pats on the head and bragging. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-08-2013, 06:33 AM | #2048 |
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November 8
Uggs This is a big hurdle until it becomes a little step. I will struggle with it as long as it takes for me to see it as something I can conquer a bit at a time, then, often as if by magic, it will melt into curbside snow and I can slosh through it in my boots. I am vanquishing obstacles, which seemed insurmountable mere months ago. I am not so much stronger than I was, but I have stopped feeding the weakness in my mind and this has made all the difference. Accelerate your willingness * FLORAL TROPHIES Captured pet plants grow in my window Why these specimens are given such regal care I suspect but can’t explain. Delicate shoots pile out of sturdy stalks Roots force the confines of my decorative pots How many neighborly blooming faces Stare into my kitchen greeting me mornings I am amazed what good company My leafy friends can be when I am loving myself. Advantageous to my mental health I breathe their exhaust and they breathe mine. Symbiotic we live I grow and flower Grateful these plants keep me. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-09-2013, 06:58 AM | #2049 |
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November 9
Thief in the Night The moon ran off the night you left. Instead of west it headed south with you, but I doubt it will stay. You are learning to play a new part, another ill-suited role which I don’t believe you will carry off with much aplomb, though you may have found yourself a kinder critic or a more likened mind. Bad actors have no leg to stand on for critique. What you have taken I can’t expect to return, but what I have gained I will never give up. I don’t think you ever intended me any harm, but protection is something you never provided; something which I was sorely in need of. I was fortunate to return to the house of my father for that is the shelter in which I can breathe. Ferocity is a gift, but not a toy * JELLYFISH AND PEANUT BUTTER CARDS Jellyfish and peanut butter cards Make for busy days and cheerful nights Sunlit at the beach and lantern light Filled with double-decker solitaire. Camping as a way of life suits some As they run from their lives For the more balanced, camp is a temporary retreat To the overly invested, camping is an aberration A threat to the foundation of civilization as we know it. Though I do dread the feeling of coming back To the life I love and feeling like a stranger Temporary disengagement estranges me From the place, the things, the dog. I need time away, Variety of experience, Expanded horizons I need my entrenched home life. I need it all and must accept The clock never stops running Anyplace on the planet Even if I am enjoying a good game With sticky camp cards, regaling tales of man-of-war. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-10-2013, 06:51 AM | #2050 |
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November 10
Come What May Inevitable things are very much like inedible things; you can’t quite swallow them yet they are hard to throw up. It can’t seem to get here quick enough to comfort my fear nor will it pass with any speed once it has arrived. I am like a boa with a hedgehog as my lunch, the shredding is rightfully dreaded and in no way preventable. Not everything that wings my way is anxiety driven, but I have to admit that some things are. I cannot spend my days wishing the storm clouds away so I will put on my slicker and hunker down for the drenching. The alleys in your mind are for passage not permanence * PRIDE GOETHE BEFORE A FALL In truth, pride goes wherever it wants, it’s pride. Pride wanders alone, for no one enjoys its company. Pride travels far but gets nowhere. Pride rises above reality and seeps beneath the surface. When pride wears out, love and honesty poke holes in it. Until it is grounded and transforms to humility Pride’s past is remembered with flush and embarrassment. Recounting yesterday is pride’s unenviable task. Keeping it from recreation is mine. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-11-2013, 04:49 AM | #2051 |
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November 11
Picture Window When G-d sticks His face in my window it brightens my day. What that shining face looks like in other windows I do not know, but I try to memorize the eyes, the brow, the winning smile before my time is up and the wind shifts. The flash of a friendly face lights up the house, my yard, the corners of my soul. I imbibe the rich glow before it moves on, letting my core charge with incandescence, warming my mettle. I am long and longing for this happy countenance and only when the blocks tumble in my mind do I realize that it is two- way glass in that window and stick my face in it and offer it to G-d. Today treat oddity as a pearl not a pebble * LIKE PEACE Peace like an elephant on my chest I can’t breathe but at least we are not fighting. The rigid air hangs like sheets on the line Stiff but dry. Plastered smiles and short salutations Get us through until bedtime. But what can hold in standing up Pours out lying down. Tender feelings are compressed And come out only as water Anger bubbles and brews. Disappointment lives down deep And sours the milk of love There are things worse than cross words. Moldering, festering, frozen words Pound spikes in a relationship Fraught with apprehension. The truth is I would let these pent up things out But I don’t trust you and I don’t trust me. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-12-2013, 05:11 AM | #2052 |
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November 12
Olive Juice For whatever the reason olives are often pitted and once they are pit-less there seems to rise an irresistible urge to fill that wound, whether with pimento or children’s cubby little fingers as they fish them from the can. There is an opening, an answer must be found. When I find my center gone I have that same yearning, fill that hole! It is an imperative, a need that must be met no matter how poorly. I will stuff just about anything in that gap; the list is longer than the Bell directory and yet none of it is an adequate replacement for what has gone amiss. So here I stand rife with questions. What to put in there and what to keep out. Is cream cheese preferred to cobwebs? Prosciutto better than ice? Nothing is better than some things and the right thing is better than having given up. Maple leaves change the world, so do you * THE FLYING MIND When my brain flies out my ear Destination unknown I am left mentally bereft I feel intellectual convolution and show no affliction Other than my inability to fulfill my assignments. I stare out, sure a ring of blue birds circle my head Or maybe stars like any other cartoon patsy. What to do, these parodied wingdings ridicule me privately Leaving the impression of idiocy with onlookers and supervisors. My focus and perceptions quaver and I lose my place. I have to find a way to spot and keep emotional balance, The way I stay upright during pirouettes By watching one doorframe or light switch. I need an unmoving object in a sea of swimming thoughts I still need to make the mental turns But this should be much easier If I stop landing on my face. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-13-2013, 05:12 AM | #2053 |
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November 13
Wrong as wrong as wrong can be To be wrong in my family and in my past meant to be tortured and I prefer death to torture, so being wrong meant death or longing for death. I tried never to be wrong as a way to stave of the desire to leap from tall buildings; I did not turn into superman, wonder woman or mighty mouse through my efforts. I did turn into someone else; I became a cartoon of a real person, two dimensional and overflowing with irrational color. Now I see how wrong, wrong can be. Wrong is not an allowable excuse to be tormented. It can be the turning point for knowledge if I choose or the stairway to something deep dark and ugly; my choice, always my choice. Quilt your stories and sleep under their protection * ASSURANCES OF GULLIVER Poor Lilliputians and my egg shaped conundrum. At least they have the strength of their convictions When I have only pondering to share the space between my ears. What sense could the world make if there is no right way And each person is free to open the egg from either end Or leave the thing intact, having instead maybe a bagel. I have been looking for the combination to unlock the universe When possibly it’s an egg shaped thing with no doors or locks And all that’s left is to break in or out. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-14-2013, 04:59 AM | #2054 |
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November 14
Clean Underwear The ease of the trip is often determined by the quality of the packing. When I am entirely ready travel is easier. I wash the laundry early to give myself a head start. Lay everything out and walk through each day’s needs; roll up my outfits and tuck each into my bag. I try to take less than half of my ‘what if’ worry items and cut short my ‘disaster plan’ thinking. If I pack positive thoughts and clean panties I am fine and if I forget them I can always pick some up along the way. Retreat is not the same as change * THE STORYTELLER Funny stories I long to share with new friends Have to be put aside while the core of this entity is built. Mutual memory is the siding on a house framed in integrity. Treading together through the past We strengthen each others perception Which is the only support That can be offered without time travel. We take hands, link arms and wander Happily towards the future Having the keys to history jangling in our fists We can return whenever prudent or necessary. We forge a fresh path and hope for a pleasant journey Between us we figure to have slain all the dragons. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-15-2013, 05:23 AM | #2055 |
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November 15
When I’m Gone When I’m gone I hope they’ll say I tried real hard and did my best But more likely will be the lament; she didn’t live up to her potential. When I’m gone I pray the song will be one of tinkling bells and uplifted voices But more likely is a disparate confusion of musical chairs. When I’m gone I wish that my banner will be raised by knowing arms But more likely will be a shuffle of my undecipherable notes, then the circular file. When I’m gone I would like my dreams to fly to the ears and eyes of friends and take refuge But more likely these dreams will chase me down the long corridor and be nothing but my shadow in the long dark night. Ask your own questions * NAVY DUCK When the postcard is hung upside down The plane flies away on its back. I know one of those irregular days With the disposition of a bee stung mule Is on its way to visit me. I have found diplomacy goes a long way And when it runs out, humor is the best fall back. Nothing mean or sophomoric but the ability to laugh Is a fortune in the face of a bankrupt day. When the sun sets on these spare and harrowing days I mortgage strength from tomorrow And right the picture---then fly right. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-16-2013, 08:21 AM | #2056 |
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November 16
Surfs Up The first time I arrive at the beach the tide is a shock to me. I had no way to anticipate it. As the days pass I calm, realizing there is a rhythm and that the sea won’t escape the shore. Over time I begin to anticipate the movement and then rely on it. I learn to live with the in and out nature of the water lapping the lip of sand; what it brings and what it takes away. I am human. I adapt. I survive. How do I make the jump to blessing the moon? How do I touch the divine? Forgive your common errors, make note of the uncommon * ENDLESS PASTA Having limits, in a seemingly limitless universe, makes me feel horribly inadequate. I am a sad little creature in the face of overwhelming tasks. Pressure and unwarranted ego compress my ability and eager disposition. I am forced to see there are choices outside my qualifications and willingness. Going on in the face of crushing requirements extrudes my life force into a plateful of capellini Lying exposed with no gravy to keep me warm it is hard to realize in this world of wonder and delight a plate of naked spaghetti can’t do it all. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-17-2013, 07:30 AM | #2057 |
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November 17
Induction I have a massive energy transformer that lives inside me. It is explosive in nature and risky to toy with. But if used properly I can power my whole world with the current which flows through it to me from my Higher Power. If I use it improperly I can melt down my core and burn down my life. The connections are of the utmost importance, insulation is a priority as well. I know that I am conduit and so much more. I must do my part as the carrier and the arbiter of change. The absence of joy is a sin * FLAW IN SNOW Waiting for snow- Waiting for cold fingers, slick roads Warm beds, reading by firelight. Waiting for proof of lack of control. Waiting itself proves lack of control. I can dance the snow dance And refuse to buy new shovels. Hang out laundry, Put out all manner of storm tempters. Still I cannot force the hand of nature I must sit with my crystalline optimism And endure these cloudless skies. There will be snow It will fall somewhere But I mustn’t grow over anxious Cause it may never snow in Miami. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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11-18-2013, 04:59 AM | #2058 |
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November 18
Who is the Parent? There are more liars in my head than anywhere else and they will say the most errant nonsense, making it sound totally convincing. First of all they use other people’s inventories to leverage me into believing that I am just what is needed to lift each person’s universe from despair; then they insist that my life will be incomplete until I have saved nations and secured borders, all the while failing to mention the deadly nature of these attempts. None of this is a problem unless I listen. Liars’ lying causes me no trouble until I accept and act on this bunk. This is where a thorough inventory saves the day. When I am clear about the truth of who and what I am I can’t be easily led astray. I know I am G-d’s child and the resemblance can be strong, but today that burden is not mine to carry, so I can stay busy being me. Cheap advice comes from thinking; dear advice comes from experience * LIBERTY, HOPE? If you had to choose would it be liberty or hope? Liberty is highly recommended but without hope How would you know you were at liberty? Transversely if you had no liberty How could you have hope? Removal of liberty removes the possibility of hope. So why ask for a choice to be made. Well that’s the joy of liberty, I am free to ask anything, And you are free to imagine anything and hope for more. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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Clicking on these dragon eggs will take you to my new erotic novella: Dragon Bait .........Hope you enjoy it! ________________________________________________ Please take a look at my work Click on flashing smilie to see my website To look at my Daddy/girl erotica book Click on pompom girl to see Elbows on the Table, Palms Flat |
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11-19-2013, 05:16 AM | #2059 |
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November 19
Human Sacrifice How much does it have to cost me in order for you to feel better? Why is it that my suffering improves your mood? Does it confirm for you that you are not alone when you are feeling scared? Or does it give you the sense that at least you’re not as pitiful as me? Is it pleading that strikes a cord, is it the animal pain which stirs your compassion? What about this scenario completes the cycle for you to be able to move back to your comfort zone? And what happens if I don’t fall to pieces? If I hold my emotions to my chest, take them to my sponsor; in some way keep them from your hungry eyes? Will you move on and leave me behind? Will you climb over the hurdle which currently stands between us? Or will you store away this bitter thing like a rotten nut hidden by a Secret Squirrel? List your objections and examine them for holes * SPRUCE The gum that grows in trees and trickles down bark, Is harvested and chewed, spit out and sticks to shoes, Is the very stuff that mimics my life. I race with vitality, burst my confines Am ruminated and masticated by various onlookers And then adhere myself to anyone I feel will carry me To a more advantageous venue. I needn’t apologize for my fluid nature or viscosity I am just as I should be, always where and what I am And at the same time on my way to somewhere and something else. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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Clicking on these dragon eggs will take you to my new erotic novella: Dragon Bait .........Hope you enjoy it! ________________________________________________ Please take a look at my work Click on flashing smilie to see my website To look at my Daddy/girl erotica book Click on pompom girl to see Elbows on the Table, Palms Flat |
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11-20-2013, 05:07 AM | #2060 |
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November 20
The Story as a Stowaway I want to tell you a story, but I want to tell it to you quickly, so I can give it to you and then you can carry it on your way. For what good is my story to you if you must leave it where it lay? Your need to be elsewhere presses on us both and I wish to give you what you can take rather than to try to stall you here for an epic you might never lift and certainly not dream of dragging along. I want you to be on your way and take a part of me with you. I wish to sew myself in your mind; tether my tale to your soul. I believe in forward motion and the need to carry on. Where you’re going I can’t go on my own but I know that if I am funny, quick and lite, part of me goes even to the end of your world and my hope is to help you make it bright. Apprentice yourself to collaboration * MIRACULOUS Sometimes the blind lead the deaf. The subtle signs are the bumping into trouble And the inability to listen to reason. It is an expedition into disaster. Unfettered by common sense or boundaries Tumbles and falls propel this pairing To unknown destinations. The attraction is baffling but undeniable. These pairs can be seen through the ages. In spite of this confounding coupling Sometimes the blind find their way And the deaf hear the call. Even when they don’t life seems to roll along But try to keep your eyes and ears open anyway. You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
__________________
Clicking on these dragon eggs will take you to my new erotic novella: Dragon Bait .........Hope you enjoy it! ________________________________________________ Please take a look at my work Click on flashing smilie to see my website To look at my Daddy/girl erotica book Click on pompom girl to see Elbows on the Table, Palms Flat |
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