05-25-2011, 04:25 AM | #801 |
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May 25
Princess No More Decent is less obvious than accent and so it is with dethroning; those who put you upon the gilt alter with much aplomb feel no qualm in taking you down with not as much as a word or a grunt. The wind has changed and your reign is over, the poor startled girl is suddenly in the street. For a scepter is not a club and why fight for a throne, which is proven to be nothing more than a straight backed chair once separated from its right relationships. The horror of unexpected common status is for the young bride an issue of safety and trust not of ego or presumption. Who is she without the Prince, the Knight, she is Princess No More. Take time to wipe unshed tears * NO GOLD STARS I look at my chart Then my chest There are no gold stars I long for the affirmation Of my Great And seemingly endless struggle I watch the movements of those shiny shoes And hope to be awarded With the gummed insignia When I hang by a thread I desire corroboration Of foil cutouts to assure me I have done the right I have stayed alive Punishment I fear less than lack of consolation But no one truly knows my bravery And if I want these paper emblems I can just go and buy my own.
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05-26-2011, 04:23 AM | #802 |
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May 26
If Garfunkel Was Here Speak of the dead and paint the living. Paint them in a good light when you can and into a corner when you have to. Read the books of future generations rather than acting as the arrogant, who attempt to write these volumes. Expunge nothing leave it all on view, but move past it after taking in the implications. Water flows under the bridge until it collapses then it carries the bridge away. So, speak of the dead don’t drown them, paint the living don’t stain them, look to the future don’t dictate to it and let the water run. Rinse off your first impressions * FREQUENTLY When my daydream gets so threadbare I no longer use it I must turn to other sources. When I cannot conjure on my own And elucidation makes me cross-eyed I must turn to HP. I have puttered and prolonged The way to naming this legendary And fabulous enigma. I drew out even longer Any desire for close association With the same. I have milled with the millstone And surfed in the whirlpool Drug my feet and thrown a fit. This only stalled the inevitable result, Naming and interaction is the need And now is the time I have a Higher Power And I chose to call it Frequently.
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05-27-2011, 04:18 AM | #803 |
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May 27
ROUSs Time passes, I clock it and count it and use its passage to construct a defense or accusation depending on my need. I use the calendar to condemn you because my feelings do not have sufficient leverage for my mental calculations. To prize disappointment from this scene I watch the water-clock waiting for adequate drops to lift the flood gate and free me from your unfulfilled promise and my unrealized hope. How long is too long to stand in a quagmire? Why do I feel the need for permission to leave the quicksand? Match persistence with cheer * DOLL Why is your face all red, asked my sponsor? I didn’t get my way, I responded And this crimson appearance is the result? You see that it is I was very careful about what I wanted And worked hard to be reasonable. And Baby , you were, you did nothing wrong Your ego was in check And you kept your expectations in proportion Said my sponsor Then why didn’t it work out my way? I only have a sad and simple answer for you The results had nothing to do with you. Your wants, expectations or desires, The whole experience boils down to only one thing It wasn’t that type of party, Doll. Oh.
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05-28-2011, 05:38 AM | #804 |
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May 28
Estranged After long years I have made my own acquaintance, friendship is on a far distant shore. I know who I am and can recognize myself on the street or in a crowded room. I have a legitimate sense of wariness of the afore mentioned persona, nothing too nasty, just a discomfort. She is not someone I would bring home, maybe not even share a meal with but I can stand her, minus intimacy, minus any deep empathy. I feel an awkwardness in acknowledging her, strange as this might sound, she is no one to be ashamed of, not a truly bad actor and yet the reports say she doesn’t live up to her potential and I have it on personal authority that she actually surpasses it on most days and keeps this a closely held confidence. And there it is, I know her secrets but I don’t keep her. This is what makes me strange and her stranger. Catch your reflection in the eyes of a friend * THE ONE I BOUGHT There are fairy tales I never gave credence to Multiple bear stories don’t move me Cats with footwear have not warranted a second thought. True love----------- Now that one I still buy Hook line and sinker. Work hard--------- And true love will fix the rest That is what I have always believed. The evil spell I have walked under During my sad little life will be broken Only by the durable and fulfilling love of my betrothed. Each time this plan fell through The blame was left to the wrongness of the match But not the wrongness of the plot . Anytime I work to be restored to sanity by one person I have displaced a rightful power And thrown myself to the sea.
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05-29-2011, 06:32 AM | #805 |
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May 29
Queens: More than a Borough My drama is bigger than yours. My drama can kick your drama’s ass. Well maybe not, but it sure is kicking mine. Like a rain soaked grave, I stand in this muddy hole, sides slick, unassailable and count the piles of tragedy ,all the while knowing it will bury me not facilitate a climb out. I attempt to display the face of comedy and yet the mask can not fool me, my true audience. I think if I can keep it all up on stage I will be alright, but then the point of theater is that everything is carried away in the minds of all who come and watch. Silence doesn’t help either for there is little worse than a bad mime and doing it well just makes me Lillian Gish. So, back to Bohemia for isn’t it all a rhapsody, though it would all be so much better if Freddy Mercury weren’t dead. String your dreams together and let them fly * HOSTAGE DOLL A doll stands wedged between two mailboxes Naked and exposed, The edge of the road passing her by. She is there to pay for my self-loathing I throw my treasures in the air As skeet to be shot and shattered. Hate is the obnoxious microbe Which sours my digestion And rids me of nutrition and affection. I purge love and tenderness I rip the covers from my playthings And leave them to bleed. I hide in my self-destruction I put garish displays streetside And cry my tears alone. I cannot ransom to pay the price of fear I must bring in the broken babies And put hate out on the curb.
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05-30-2011, 07:38 AM | #806 |
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May 30
RAID !!! So, you stepped into a hornets nest and now how am I to respond? Blame you? No, I don’t think so, I mean you are the exterminator and some stings are to be expected, but this is far beyond even your honed ability to anticipate wasps. Cry, running from this ambush? Again, I decline I still want you after the war is over, even if I can not fight by your side. Protest, I try to refrain, I never want to make your job harder but I don’t want to leave the impression I have no concern, so I walk the fine line. Standing on the sidelines is harder than you think, I am helpless and lonely, not as exciting as your work and no comfort from this distance. I must hold my breath while you provoke the bees. Stack your honest intentions as a hedge against a cold winter * TROJAN PERSON I feel confused by the difference between love and war The intensity and rush are too much For my frazzled and betrayed emotions to sort out. I feel like a Trojan person I have all these children holdup inside And they are waiting for peace and safety So they can come out and sleep For a time I allowed them to leave For bathroom breaks one at a time This was not a workable solution. When these tykes would have a look around They started to set fires and break hearts Each child makes life a battleground Fights and claws her way across the living landscape. I must heal my insides from the center of my thoughts Not send fragments of me to blend With the unfamiliar and hostile world Only when I can stand together With my mind and heart safe within my being Will I see a way to make love on my own terms And leave war alone.
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05-31-2011, 03:52 AM | #807 |
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May 31
Black & Dedication The brand of equipment endorsed by my Higher Power is built so that my hand is clasped inside lest I feel alone or unaided. A closed mouth and an open mind work very well when I can manage either of them and Step 10 works when I can’t. I am usually the problem in my life but I am always the solution. Others may change and contribute; I am the one and only one, responsible for my happiness. Dropping blame from my vocabulary and adding responsibility, learning to differentiate between what is mine and what is yours; these tools are keys and they open worlds of possibility to me. Also they shut out the demons of wrong thinking, wrong acting and desperation, which used to plague me. There are still greater tools I yearn for but like everything I must be patient and build my muscles to handle the heavier machinery. Dine with hope * GULPING The plug that lodges in my throat From too much, too fast Causes the anxiety to rise in me. The panic fills my contracting muscles Into rock solid revolt. I can’t live, is the predictable result Gulping attention, acclaim, excitement, sex, Does the same thing My heart clots and my personality stops in mid-flow Everything in carefully chosen, well chewed bites Makes the process proceed My life works along workable paths If I stay away from oversized freight I can never swallow myself whole Why would I keep trying to imbibe giants like desire?
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06-01-2011, 04:24 AM | #808 |
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June 1
I’m not Brian I thought life was based on a system of ‘I will suffer and that will exempt you’. Then I would be horrified when you suffered, after I had already done so ahead of you. In an attempt to ease my dismay I would look to see who had broken the pact, you or me. Had I not endured sufficiently to protect you? Had you left the safety of the umbrella of sanctuary? Panic gives birth to blame and blame of course births nasty biting things that run loose and bury in all the tender spots. Now, the goals I tend are to end the breeding of those sharp and painful beasties, stop laying my neck upon the alter and start telling better jokes. Scramble cracked perceptions * DANCE OF DEATH Honeyed words pour from lips Shades of doubt color my mind Stained glass eyes look to blank walls And picture the gallery of imagination Attempting to sell it for hard currency Sirens sing from the throats of mute men The screams which rise in me fall on deaf ears Paradox feeds controversy but it needn’t Evolution from a cesspool is repugnant Though process is steady made Inertia is violent if that is from whence it came Afterbirth is always bloody and humans not always nice I must live and heal as others climb up and slide down I must keep the beat and forget the dance of death.
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06-02-2011, 04:18 AM | #809 |
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June 2
The Attention Tax Paying attention is the price exacted for living in this society. A taxation which is like a leach; it takes the life force, diverts my brain waves, claims the water rights to my river of thought. What is left I use to wash off what I can, never quite managing to feel clean or clear. I sit in the mud puddle still unsure if I understand what just happened; harboring a dark fear of the wave to come. Cultivate creative ambition * BOTTLE THE ACID My sponsor said “bottle the acid” and I did I sat back in smug reflection until the plumbing backed up I grabbed the fast solution and poured it down the drain. My sponsor smiled as I learned ---- The baser things will eat my life away too. I can never just decant power and expect it to clean sweep The clogged pathways in my recovery. Sloshing caustic medicine into open orifices brought me here I long for the ease of a liquid resolution In the end, I must clean the pipes myself. The traps are simpler to cleanse the less I’ve lied Telling myself I don’t have to get my hands Or heart dirty is the biggest lie of all.
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06-03-2011, 04:24 AM | #810 |
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June 3
Soul Chiggers If you can seed apprehension deeply in a generation, you can reap disillusionment for a hundred years. Bent foresight twists hindsight. Admiring ignorance, signs death’s warrant. Evil splintered to a thousand slivers burrows under the skin without killing their host. Death delayed spreads destruction along with melancholy; a septic contagion if ever there was one. And how do we fight this systemic blight? It is embedded in the water, the air, the mind, and try what I might; I can’t seem to live without any of these. Chiggers of the soul feed and breed no matter how I scratch and chew. I am raw, but still infested. How do I kill what is in me without killing the me? Step up to indecision * THE WORM Because there is never enough punishment For those who inflict pain, I punish myself Only I can tell if the depth of the pain is a match Only I can judge when enough is enough. This is the turn of the drunken worm-- Who lives in my brain The belief that what began in pain Must end there too. Even now in recovery I persist in hurting myself In a thousand tiny ways, setting trap after trap, To catch the perpetrators, making my heart a mine field A place unfit for me to live I must sober the worm And let myself off the hook.
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06-04-2011, 05:37 AM | #811 |
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June 4
Head Wringing I have my say, though my fear is that I constantly repeat myself; very much the way a crow calls the same thing endlessly, but it all has different meanings to the crow. I would offer a code key to my readers if I could lay my hands on one. My mind whispers that the soothing people get from my work is like the calm induced by chanting monks. Possibly it is more the actor’s trick of reading repetitive lines each time putting the emphasis on a different word; a way of squeezing all the juice from nonsense. I jot ideas swearing these lines are to be found somewhere in my previous work, perhaps whole pages are redundant. Finally I stop this fight reminding myself I have but one voice and what I accuse myself of as similarity might merely be my style. Find satisfaction in the middle, too * OPEN WINDOWS I roll down the window in the rain Hoping reality will soak in with the droplets I tilt my face as I leave the car And let the water shower my features. The downpour is the jolt to living for which I have prayed I stand on my lawn and rinse the day out of my hair I clear my brain in the fresh rainwater. The driving rain pounds the house and trees But I feel massaged and cared for My skin reflexive, teaches my mind to absorb and hydrate I turn my thoughts to Greater Powers. Even if the doors have been closed I can open the windows And let the rain come in.
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06-05-2011, 05:40 AM | #812 |
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June 5
The Hope Diamond My guess is the same god that wants me stupid also wants me to suffer. I ask myself what could be all powerful about that? I wonder is G-d like a friend or a lover? I carefully chose my friends whereas my lover found me against my greatest plans and well thought rules. And if this is to be like marriage, may I file for divorce if things go astray? Or am I stuck with this match, like I am stuck with my deformed ear there underneath my hat or fringe of hair? I never thought of my relationship with G-d like a necklace I could take on and off at will, though the more I study it seems this beautiful thing enhances my beauty if all is right and will strangle me if it gets hung up. Sort genius from fortune * RED ROSES From tight green buds come beautiful roses. From small verdant places I blossom too. I open to richness unexpected and fullness unbelieved. I look at crumpled laundry Never anticipating the look of clean sheets blowing on the line Doors I perceive as blocked by vast boulders Are thrown open by willingness. Who I am today is no one I recognize I didn’t see myself coming. I write though I can’t spell I love though my heart is broken. I think though my mind is warped And I trust though the amulet is long shattered. Promise is not a laid out plan but the continuum of change I can fight it or let it carry me where it goes.
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06-06-2011, 04:15 AM | #813 |
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June 6
Eggshells and Bethlehem A stable is a place to keep a horse and in fairytales a place to birth a baby, but stable is the story I told myself about you. Solid, a model of strength and here you are a tripod, upright only if the pressure is evenly applied. I blame myself for lopsided need and try to find a way to keep this coupling standing. Stripped down to minor contact I wonder if you actually remember me and then I wonder if I remember myself. This is what is at stake, this is the trophy I lose when I fall for you and you fall down. Where is the girl I worked so hard to create? Broken eggshells litter the nest and I look for the chick I used to be. I fear losing you, I cry at the thought of losing us, I die at the loss of me. Graft beauty to stability * IN THE MEADOW Being the only tree in the meadow often leaves me feeling lonely I tell myself of the camaraderie I imagine in the forest These images are more poetic than real. I believe in community and support I think of the woods as a place apart From the complications of my exposed life. I shrug off the very real competition and struggle From sharing every inch of root space And the search for each square of sunlight. There is much joy in being an individual An eco-system of diversity allows me to fully develop I can spread my branches and my roots. I can offer shelter to those in need of my reaching and my shadow Tender flowers and tired birds find me a haven I have unique abilities in this field Space can feel lonely But it is full of possibilities.
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06-07-2011, 03:51 AM | #814 |
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June 7
Discussions with my Disease “You’re not the girl I used to know.” “Not the girl you used to love is what you mean?” “You’re different is all I mean to say.” “The rest you leave there to rot, unsaid?” “Something has happened to you.” “Is it something that you do not like?” “I don’t know who you are anymore.” “Or is it that you never knew?” “One false move could break us up.” “All your moves are false why will one more cause such change?” Side with the tide * MAGIC WAND Why are you wearing that hat and waving That star studded stick, I ask my sponsor? Isn’t this what you want, a magic wand, she replied? Whatever are you talking about? I don’t want a wizard. Don’t you? You thought walking into your first meeting would Poof---make you all better, When that didn’t work, you held your breathe for 90 days. When that also proved a disappointment You let the air out of your blue face And started the white knuckle routine for a year. At the end of twelve months, you released your arthritic grip And started scheming for a new sponsor But the new wicked witch sent you scurrying back to me. Then it was a relationship with the undying love That would break the spell you are under. Now tell me again, How you don’t want me to use this magic wand on you? Said my sponsor with aplomb. I guess my behavior gave me away, Go ahead say your incantation. I closed my eyes and waited for her words. Show up and do the work Keep your mind open, she said As she waved the cudgel. That’s it----------I asked, Well yes-- but I have to come back everyday She grinned
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06-08-2011, 04:23 AM | #815 |
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June 8
Enclosed Space In the echo chamber it is the cymbals which cause the most pain. The drums resound, deep and loud, but it is the crashing of brass that drives me wild. Cotton wool and sealing wax can not put my head at ease. Resonate walls with their hollow effects create the feedback loops of hurt, like the endless reflection of parallel mirrors the sounds come back to me with relentless repetition. Aural illusion might have been the idea, but chaos is the result and leaving the space between these ears will be, will allow, the band to play on without the benefit of my torment. Write the stories the clouds illustrate * BOUQUET I love the flowers in my garden Their upkeep is my solemn trust With my shears I must cut Clear and swift the runners Which detract from the health and structure. When fruiting is heavy I must spare the stalk And choose what stays and what needs to be taken I am scrupulous in my observation of form and function The bucolic scene thrives The pageant of color sweeps the rows I bend to nurture and stretch to prune I pay over much attention to the plucking And forget I need to bring the blooms home.
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06-09-2011, 04:21 AM | #816 |
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June 9
Weight Problem I have trouble raising my 50 pound hand in meetings. In between meetings I have the problem of trying to dial the 500 pound phone. Which leaves me with this 2,000 pound weight on my chest and no air to breathe, no life to lead. There is the difficulty of the relentless tyrant, my would be sponsor, the person I fail to ask. Plus, the home group that does not support me, since they do not know my name. All the while folks laugh and talk and have a good time, I can see none of them have suffered from my weight problem. Continue to move into your home * CLONING DAYS The novelty of sobriety causing sweet days Wore to gauze and I attempted control I cut, pasted and sutured elements of good living In an effort to make 24 hour of personal perfection. I was so sure I could replicate these jewel days I would make perfect spheres, everything round and even One after another like a string of pearls The more I tried the harder God laughed . Days are their own planets Saturn is different from Mars And today will have as little to do with tomorrow If I let it all work out. Perfection is a thing which is born to live Not a thing I can draft in a dish or test tube Life will-out Or chaos will prevail.
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06-10-2011, 04:22 AM | #817 |
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June 10
Abraxas I was waiting for a magic person and then you appeared. I was dazzled; I was under your spell. In an attempt to prove myself your natural assistant I sawed me in two. Then I stepped into the vanishing cabinet and promptly disappeared. I was not wrong to see the miraculous in you, but I never looked from your visage once you arrived. The world around me melted at your entrance and I flowed down the drain along with it. I somehow expected a response from you, but why respond to an empty room? So, I will plug back into myself and power up. Power draws power and I will see if I can draw you once again. Keep a truce on hand for later use * THE LANDING Risers and runners lift from where I stand Here I make my decision I climb and face the challenges of my life Each new test returns me to this square The steps ascend in every direction No matter how many times I have scaled this set of twelve I must start anew with even the slightest change of direction Like facets on a diamonds base The flights emerge from the tiny base And hold the world of possibilities Within their meticulous surface I look into these precious mirrors To see who I am and where to go Though none of this would be possible Without a place to stand.
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06-11-2011, 05:34 AM | #818 |
Practically Lives Here
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June 11
Prize Catch There is a reason that fish flap and twist when they are caught, why even though they are in the air they fight for the life that once was theirs, only martyrs go without a fight, it is good to know that at least this vice is not mine. When I did not love my life its loss was not an actual change, there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to struggle for. Now I thrash at the feel of my loved life slipping from me. It is good to know I have passion enough to rally a defense. My life can be taken from me, but I haven’t lost my will to fight. Turn confusion until its smooth * THE PALMIST Last night I had a silly dream. I was in a tent at a carnival and the woman across the table Held my hand so dear, looked into my eyes and said “Today you will go to a meeting which will save your life” I thanked her and left full of anticipation. When I awoke, I was filled with the same strong sensation I rose, washed and left for the meeting with anticipation. I paid close attention to the coffee maker, Those setting up chairs with me and the newcomer I listened carefully to the speakers And the sound of the group’s voice closing in prayer Nothing out of the ordinary happened Other than my realization That every meeting saves my life.
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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 |
06-12-2011, 07:01 AM | #819 |
Practically Lives Here
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June 12
Dido Either I can have a bad relationship that I never wanted or no relationship and the painful isolation of having been lied to and deceived by someone who, in theory, should have been trustworthy. You are off to war and I am agape not having realized until too late that you are a soldier. The fact is that one of these things will occur; you will be killed by a machine which cares nothing for you and sees you as its enemy or destroyed by the organization that sees you as its own or you will throw yourself on your sword and keep from bothering anyone else with this task. There is no scenario where you are the One you promised me you’d be. No homecoming, no welcoming arms to hold me. I stand on the sidewalk a garbage pail of cold water poured over my shock and dismay. To my grief you say that you have heard it all before, so why did you set me up to say it all again? I am heart stricken and cut in a place to obvious to hide and too hidden to speak of. You have no time to talk, no aid to give, no love to spare. I thought I was yours, but see that I have been swept from your life by the flood of a large gauge hose and water of questionable origin. Everything is wet but nothing is clean. This is an unholy act and I am defeated and living in Carthage. Forgive loneliness * FABULOUS I don’t care what else is on the inventory----- You still have to take responsibility for FABULOUS Said my sponsor with a determined look on her face. But you don’t understand------ The other things on the list make it impossible For me to be FABULOUS You can’t see how incapable I truly am, I say As I collapse into a pathetic heap in the overstuffed chair. What you don’t comprehend is that FABULOUS Is not affected by your other little grumblings You can’t tarnish FABULOUS It doesn’t wear away with burden or neglect . This is why no matter how far you bury it Or misname it, or even flatly deny it FABULOUS shines like a beacon And you end up with every Todd, Nick and Martha On your doorstep. Expecting you to be who you are And let them warm in the glow So my cherub--you can fight it or live with it But FABULOUS is here to stay
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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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06-13-2011, 04:33 AM | #820 |
Practically Lives Here
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June 13
Sanitized All the water in the well gone dry belongs to me. Such an offer, how could I refuse? I stand as near the edge as I can get and try my best to peer, is the goldfish alive? For you see this is still my best hope, you, the source are also my wishing well, more than just survival you are prospect, neigh dream. You say that what’s left is mine, but you think of it as incidental, not a need, merely a want. Someplace deep, beyond where you admit, you know that life is dependant on desire, but will play mine off as casual when it becomes inconvenient to your drives and blindness. Eunuchs do not immediately perish, but you must confess they do not live. I stand here a lock to which there is no longer a key and whether I am open or closed it doesn’t matter for the partnership of change is desiccated and I do not care for a waterless solution. Check yourself for false steps * INVENTORY When you say “self” who do you mean Asked my sponsor Do you mean the lovely velvet child, Or the façade you built to show others? Well I wish I could answer you, I do, my reply. I see the shrine you construct in your sobriety I love that you made it. When you talk about ridding yourself of self-- I doubt you mean this edifice. Do you speak of some creature in the past Do you know of whom you speak Are you parroting, then assuming this thing exists Solely for you to now dispose of it? I thought “self “ was self-evident- I feebly interject. I want names and locations If you only suspect some of these entities Please provide me with a full accounting of your suspicions I also want, to the best of your ability, the origin of these individuals I am unwilling to cosign their disposal without a proper bookkeeping I see by the bright look on your face, I have made myself clear, she said with conviction. So this is what you meant by self-inventory, I say and sigh.
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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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Tags |
12 step recovery, acoa, al-anon, alcoholic, alcoholics anonmyous, coda, on-line meeting |
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