02-07-2011, 09:55 AM | #681 | |
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Hey, rlin,
Congratulations on getting off the opiates, that huge!!! I have a sponsee who has been going through this and her experience was that the feeling lasted about three months and then would return for a day or two every three months or so. Hang in there, I swear it gets better! Sherrie Quote:
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02-07-2011, 06:46 PM | #682 | |
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about 7-8 weeks ago i also stopped drinking... smoking pot... and smoking cigarettes... can you tell me how long til i dont want a flippin cigarette???? it was/is harder than any of the rest for me!!! i really dont know if i can keep that one going sometimes... i can think of the opiates as a given... the smokes are kicking my sorry ass tho! |
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02-08-2011, 05:24 AM | #683 |
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February 8
Simultaneous Acceptance Being typical is a difficult thing to live with, but I am typical. Being extraordinary is a challenging thing to live up to, but this is also mine to bear, you see I am a typical alcoholic after all. Walking with one foot in each camp is not enough. I must simultaneously accept both my common commonality and my lottery winner uniqueness if I am to travel hand in hand with my Higher Power. If I don’t integrate this double reality, allow it to imprint my thoughts the way it is tattooed in my DNA I can not possibly take the biggest step of all and drop my judgment of these things so that humility can dwell within. You see there is not enough room in the vortex of my humanness to accommodate the jags of verdict and the desire for the sublime smoothness of humility. I can’t chase humility I have had to face that, but I can remove the impediments to its residence. Have some compassion for your wounds * READY Ready or not here it comes. Life on terms of its own. Bracing for the onslaught of gravity I grip too well the implements of past days. Fearing the pressure, I lay in my shallow grave, The ground having been scooped out by my own hand. Withering from expectation, my blood runs slow and dark, Reducing to coagulated futility, loosing my life in anticipation of death. Attempts at being less, as means of protection, Less is not a solution. Fading does not make life more livable It makes me unavailable. Readiness is my responsibility, it is momentary, momentary is sufficient. Sobriety is nothing more than lining myself up with the needs of this instant I need go not further, Whole solutions are not my department. Showing up, dressed and washed, ball and bat in hand if possible, Just making it to the lineup is my full-time job. Even if I never swing It is better than being buried on the field
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02-09-2011, 05:24 AM | #684 |
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February 9
Hospitality What unites us, heals us, serves us, is the hospitality of the program. Fellowship encircles us and draws us close, in a word unites us, hospitality is our core. Hospital is the root of hospitality and recovery is the route to health, hospitality is the skeleton of recovery. Hospitable aid, the true gift of self is hospitality; hospitality the master of A.A. Observe inaction and discover its root * FORGIVENESS Forgiveness is not something to force on people like unwanted coffee. It is only appropriate to forgive people who ask for forgiveness And show with their behavior that they want it. It is never appropriate to shove forgiveness on people who haven't asked And show no signs of wanting it or demonstrate just the opposite. It's been said, forgiving was to help you feel better. It doesn't. Letting go of resentments makes you feel better. Making amends to the people you've hurt, Cleaning up your side of the street makes you feel better. Keeping an open mind and heart will make you ready for the possibility of someone coming to make amends. Forgiveness is a two way street. Anything you have to throw over someone like a net is usually a mistake.
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02-09-2011, 02:54 PM | #685 | |
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Cigs
Hi there RLN....I saw where you are quiting smoking cigs along with everything else.....I had to be 3 yrs sober before I could even consider doing away with the cigs.....I can say they were much harder to give up than the drink....but if you must do that now I can tell you I spent 5 days of pure hell withdrawals.....then it got better with occasional and milder desires as time went on....the thing that really helped me stay off them was the doctor who told me a year later I possibly had first stages of emphysema....you might try to find someone who has recently quit and use each other like you do with the drink and drug recovery.... Good luck to you....
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02-10-2011, 04:33 AM | #686 |
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February 10
Recognition All I have are these two hands; I can not lift the world All I have are these two legs; I can not flee the hoards All I have is this one heart though need and want prevail All that’s left is this one mind to try to tell this tale. Everything in this bright orb is there for me to see Everything laid out before me all that I can be Everything that I perceive as wrong and know it in my heart Everything I think to touch and change believing it’s my art Once I take the giant reins acceptance escapes the scene Once the fates are in my grasp chaos is the theme Once the sight of my right place is lost from in my mind Once I try to fill the great big shoes is the day that I go blind. Prune expectation with open-mindedness * DON'T BE A FRAUD Fake it till you make it is like saying, Keep drinking till you get sober, complains my sponsor. But what about the things I can't do yet? You work on them, that's all, you work. You adjust your attitude. Practice the steps. Carry your behind to meetings, And talk to me and others in your network. Yeah, that sounds like a breeze. It's easier than staying sober while lying. In this program we try to stay honest And in the moment. Pretending to feel differently than you do Defeats your ability to be present And makes it hard for people to trust you. But it's so awkward, I grumble. Which is why we of the alcoholic persuasion, Try to find short cuts but don't get sucked into them. Tell the truth and do the hard work of sobriety and Stay away from people who try to sell you a Softer Way.
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02-11-2011, 05:26 AM | #687 |
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February 11
Rebellion Dogs “Rebellion dogs our every step at first” AA’s 12 and 12 They won’t come to heal, won’t sit, won’t stay, these dogs circle waiting for signs of weakness or vulnerable skin, but there they are; they have been found out. The ones that worry me more are those that took show and place, the dogs that stand in the shadows and lurk in the wing. What are their names I wonder? Their distinctive smell? Must I identify these writhing mutts or simply call animal control? Though this never worked with rebellion dogs these lesser pups surely would run from would be dog catchers and leave me to my dreams. Alas, I name them and show them to my friends; we like they run in packs and are served well by honest disclosure. Learn from old dogs * THINGS THAT ARE THICKER THAN WATER Pudding, mud, ice cream, cement, sauce, paint, sap, drool, gravy, wood. What is that? A list of things that are thicker than water. There are so many, Why do people get so hung up on blood? Survival, comfort, or maybe tradition? There must be many reasons. Why we strong-arm one another into relations with family. Families we drank with Or families we drank to get away from, But it's not the family is it, it's us. We have to learn to do what we need to do. We can't force ourselves into relationships with anyone for any reason Other then it is what is best for us. Shoulds and aughts have no place in the family situation So can I walk away from them all? You can't do anything in the sweep of the wand, In the same vein don't obligate yourself to people due to viscosity. That sounds like a promising start.
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02-12-2011, 06:51 AM | #688 |
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February 12
Whittle it Down A famous sculptor mentioned that he doesn’t so much create the objects as remove the stone which doesn’t belong. I have had the same experience with willingness. Encased in the bedrock of my will willingness had no opportunity to open doors. Flaking away the extraneous the key shape appears, rugged, blockish, rudimental. As the tears stream down my face and wrong thinking flies from my brain the key is more finely formed. As I wheedle at misconception and haul bodily wrong action the teeth of this thing show sharp in this day’s sun. Many doors stand ajar, at first those with basic tumblers, but now even those with encrypted defense are no match for the willingness, which I wield with rapier wit. The obvious blocks to progress open to me as well as the subtle doors to untold destination, I am let out of danger, released into possibility. Trace implication * NIGHT FLIGHT The small log shape with wings Passed the windshield of my moving car Without collision. Meticulous calculation and correction In a night sky. Silent passage Swift and meaningful The owl lives as it knows how. I was not born to the night. Darkness not my given realm. I have inverted my senses and compensated For the moonlight. I pull my way through the air And hunt for my survival In a world of shadows. The morsels caught on the wing. Snatches of conversations And lines from books sustain me. Giving me strength to live In spite of the nocturnal bondage. I have made peace with the night. I am changed by my living And my living endures. The grace required to abide here Is bestowed on me nightly. I wear it thought t is not the prize I sought.
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02-13-2011, 08:01 AM | #689 |
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February 13
Progressive Fourth All I can do is stand on the grass and count the shutters, the windows, the doors. At first I cannot approach to inspect any closer than that. Time passes and the other steps work me. I peer through the windows the next time and count the stuffs I can glimpse through the glass. I possess no periscopic vision, but what is in plain sight I reckon. Subsequently I wished to exteriorize and draw the inventory of the house out onto the lawn and tally there wishing to avoid that interior life, the poisoned vixen who haunted there. Time passed and she recovered as did I, into the house I went. I am now able not only to number my possessions; I can assess the flow and function, work patterns, interplay, reliability. I have now appraised not just the what, but the how of my life and progress into tomorrow. Give cooperation a hand * TRAVELING PICTURES I parked next to a beaten little import. The well of the passengers side filled With empty sports drink bottles and soda cans The dash board was a shrine. Three taped photographs. One of a young man and young woman. One of the young woman and an older woman. One of the young woman and an enormous marble statue. There were small carved objects Affixed to the dash. Jade and soapstone figures, Beads and a feather. The sanctuary in my head is decked out In a similar manner. Postcard pictures line my mind. People I love, trips I took, pets long gone. The road signs of my journey Stand as exhibits of a tour of duty Not always to my liking But nothing I would trade. I know clearly where I have been And study the map to prepare For the future escapades and loved ones. Trinkets strung on my life line Give texture, flavor and flash To my pilgrimage.
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02-14-2011, 05:23 AM | #690 |
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February 14
ONE One skin One mind One spirit One day If I live in more than my own skin, I am a body snatcher and ghoul. If I live in a duality of thought I am ejected, ostensively out of my mind. If I redouble my spirit the increase takes a dark cold turn and I am lost. If I try to live two days at a time the sand shifts in the glass and I am worse off in that hour than Dorothy. This skin is all I can be in, as many times as I walk in someone else’s shoes it’s the skin I’m in. This mind is my only bequest, treasure enough to earn my keep. Free as this spirit is it is still tied at the heel and like my shadow it remains. And today is the only day where the magic works, witches melt and clicking my heels gets my attention even if it doesn’t always take me home. Create competition-free zones in your life * COMING TO THE TABLE For many years, decades even, I stacked the table against myself and others. I piles the sacred next to the trifles. I deposited item after item and built towers to confusion. After years of sobriety I sorted the piles in earnest. I made a place for myself at the table. It's amazing what I can accomplish with a seat and a surface. Over months, tediously separating, the needed from the useless, I made a place for others at the table. There is a whole world of life I missed While trying to keep myself safe from unrealistic expectations. Expectations of who I am and what I can do, What I should do and who I should do it for. Having strong boundaries and a clean table is like a homecoming. I am coming home to me. The good games and happy meals had at this table Are unexpected and surely welcome. The wall I built held good times at bay. Because I could not keep the flood of trash From spilling in from every direction I had to learn to hold my head up before I could look around.
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02-15-2011, 05:22 AM | #691 |
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February 15
Black and Blue Prints Building hell from plans I found in the attic; furnishing it with what was left in the basement didn’t make a life but it did keep me occupied. Activity insulates me from living; camouflaging the windswept landscape I claw across turning my face from the oasis believing I have perfected a mirage. I have battered my hope and tied her in the corner the corner which I built from the blue prints I used to turn my life black Turn up in the best places, turn up when needed, turn up the corners of your mouth * THE DEALS I'VE MADE Because they are deals and not resentments or secrets These circular schemes did not come out in my fourth step. They didn't come out in the wash. They come out whenever they are broken. If the deal is-Don't eat pickled herring And you won't remember X The deal will be broken when pickled herring Is served to me at some social gathering. As I get healthier, the breaks connect evermore deeply. What in early sobriety would have given me unexplained discomfort Now gives me full-blown flashbacks And I watch the deal unravel. I wasn't supposed to eat this Because this was on my plate-------When But now that it's on the plate here----Now I have to face this ugly roiling mess. The deals saved my life But unless they are handled with care and honesty They can cost me the life I have now. I must choose a safe person and place To share these broken shards with. Living alone with this will not work And making it public fodder is a setup as well. In every one of these deals There is a back door to a drink And therefore WE have to go out the front door together.
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02-16-2011, 05:13 AM | #692 |
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February 16
The Long Dark Ride Are fear and ignorance one thing that looks like itself or terrifying twins who feed one another? Can they be separated and if they can will it kill them? And if they die what will spring from their remains? Will it be better or worse? Can I tell what better is? Should I tell if it turns out to be worse? Is there ever an end to either fear or ignorance? If there is, how deep is that well and will I survive a trip to the bottom? Do you know and do you care? Will you go with me if I find the way? Will you take me if you find it first? Learn from ugliness * THE 24 HOUR GOD Matching a loving God to the horrors of my past has proved impossible for me. Projecting a connection to an all powerful God of the ever foreshortening future seems implausible. In today, I see a nurturing God not an all purpose God Not a God who serves all. In my life there is a God I trust today. Each morning, when I wake there is a pleasant surprise to find a God. Not an expansive God, not a God to fit the continuum But a nice neat God who fits right in this 24 hours.
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02-17-2011, 04:44 AM | #693 |
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February 17
Suzy Q’s Mother Through process of elimination I have had to learn who G-d is and who G-d isn’t. When it comes down to my understanding everything incomprehensible is off the table and what is left is mine, all mine. I can’t fathom an all powerful G-d; therefore my G-d is not all powerful. I can not begin to comprehend a vengeful G-d, as you might have guessed; my G-d is not vengeful. Because of these constraints I have a non-omnipotent G-d, one with limitations and bounds. This doesn’t mean I love my G-d any less in fact it may be why I love my G-d so very much. And G-d loves me with a Mother love that trails me to the depths and heights of the path, but like any mother, she can’t do everything. My G-d is accomplished and wonderful, but there are days that I need things, which lay outside my Higher Power’s area of expertise and I must turn to help beyond our little circle of two. This is not easy at first. We both feel awkward in the attempt, but Suzy Q lives two houses down and her mother still has her hook shot from college and since my mom’s experience of basketball is that it’s the court you walk through to go play tennis, I ask Mrs. Q with help making the three point shots. I don’t have to understand Suzy Q’s mother, I leave that to Suzy. I just have to ask for help, learn the jump and go home when I’m done. It’s nice to be able to slam dunk, but there is no place like home. Recommend earnestness * THIN ICE The ice is brittle, transparent and breaking away. I brace for destruction, turmoil and frigid descent. I am stuck in my topside thinking And cannot realize the chance for freedom the cracking expanse promises. I am an oceanic creature. I can escape my watery bonds with the splitting of the ice. Trapped in a hole I keep open only through the friction of my unrest I am kept from the community of life to which I belong. My reflection mixes with my view of the sky And I forget my place, forget my name, Forget how I have come to be trapped here. The pining after what is not mine to have Has brought me to this thin edge. I must break through to be who I am. In doing so I shatter the illusion of who I thought I was. Zeal to zenith I must move away from the phantasm and mockery And take refuge in what I am
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02-18-2011, 05:25 AM | #694 |
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February 18
Hiding “Defeat is what you make of it,” says my sponsor. “Fighting a thousand secret battles when you claim that you want peace is not right. The agony of defeat is when you keep on fighting. There is no honor in waving the white flag, but never laying down your arms.” “I can’t just give them up they have been in the family for years,” my whining retort. “I’m sure they have, darling, I’m sure they have, and haven’t done any of you a lick of good either,” her smug reply. “They are good for sabotage,” I begin my running start at her. “Sabotage is something you only do to yourself, because who else can you really sabotage? Who do you really hate enough other than you?” “My hobby is denying that you know.” “Yes, and sweet lot of good it does you, the war rages within you and outside you say it’s harmony, no matter all the signs of discord.” “And if I were to really give up. If, I were really tired enough, how can I insure my safety?” I asked with my hands nearly in the air. “Tell the truth, even if it’s only to your self. Put space between you and weapons of mass destruction. Oh, and make sure you surrender to a friend.” Loosen your grasp as often as you can * LIFE IS UNFAIR Assuring myself I will not be permitted through the gate, I walk the perimeter assessing the fence, Looking for a place to exploit, a wire slightly high. Trying to look graceful, I duck under the fence. Telling myself I prefer life on the edge. The water is less dangerous here on the fringe. I wouldn't want to be swept away. I stay clear of my peers. I stand in the baby pool and feel confidant I won't drown. Brushing from my conscience that I won't swim either. Struggling to the top of the pile or scurrying underneath Is a blatant lack of humility Skirting the margin is the same. Facing life and finding it unfair I take to the world of exception And hope to slip through the cracks to a life of safety. In that act, I discount my talent and ability. Worst of all, I disconnect from God.
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02-18-2011, 12:07 PM | #695 |
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[QUOTE=LeftWriteFemme;286041]February 18
Hiding “Defeat is what you make of it,” says my sponsor. “Fighting a thousand secret battles when you claim that you want peace is not right. The agony of defeat is when you keep on fighting. There is no honor in waving the white flag, but never laying down your arms.” “I can’t just give them up they have been in the family for years,” my whining retort. “I’m sure they have, darling, I’m sure they have, and haven’t done any of you a lick of good either,” her smug reply. “They are good for sabotage,” I begin my running start at her. “Sabotage is something you only do to yourself, because who else can you really sabotage? Who do you really hate enough other than you?” “My hobby is denying that you know.” “Yes, and sweet lot of good it does you, the war rages within you and outside you say it’s harmony, no matter all the signs of discord.” “And if I were to really give up. If, I were really tired enough, how can I insure my safety?” I asked with my hands nearly in the air. “Tell the truth, even if it’s only to your self. Put space between you and weapons of mass destruction. Oh, and make sure you surrender to a friend.” Loosen your grasp as often as you can I love this....now if I can only remember it when I'm not letting go.... |
02-18-2011, 12:18 PM | #696 | |
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[quote=oksoftbutch;286187]
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02-19-2011, 07:27 AM | #697 |
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February 19
Jenny Though ignorance may be bliss, living in the shadow of someone else’s ignorance is sheer hell. The confusion is bad, but the lies are worse. Want to cripple a child for life give it to a well meaning fool who has the rule book to the wrong board game, that child will grow to need crutches they don’t make and medicine they can’t brew. Dependant on misguided insanity the child will require a miracle cure and may lack the ability to ingest it. Best case scenario the kid makes a brave escape into a world she can barely comprehend, worse case she turns the rule book upside down and reads it backwards to her own unfortunate brood. Ignorance is always a twilight proposition, half agreement the other half handcuffed nightmare. Full consent is by necessity impossible while blameless innocents is similarly unachievable. The only suggestion I can make from this side of the looking glass is to pick your poison and plan your getaway. Rain encouragement down in your dreams * TIME IS HERE TO STAY I have passed my days emptying them. Like bread crumbs on a trail of rescue Expecting them to facilitate redemption And if not that at least retreat. I release an audible sigh As I let each evening slip to the path behind me The future I view as a cliff I am nearing I hope to be ransomed before the edge. I plan carefully how to stay in sync with revision Things must be resolved and revert But this is not the way. The past is there to be mined. Inert gold as well as land mines linger beneath the surface The days stream on. I am not nearing the limit I am shrinking from hope. I turn my eyes from expectancy with a shutter Deeply, I realize I must leave my fairytale life And walk away with my days in my pocket A treasure------mine to spend.
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02-20-2011, 05:25 AM | #698 |
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February 20
Katie’s Wish Does G-d arrange for my parking spot, foil the Colts opponents, release the stains from my dry-cleaning? Can I ask for the petty and pedantic? All One G-d Faith, reads the side of the soap bottle, but really is there only one? Like Santa? The Tooth Fairy? OZ? Is my life better or worse for the whimsy? How would I know? Why would I care? As long as I live with what I get most times, it truly is okay to ask for what I want sometimes, I mean hell, the Superbowl is only once a year. I’m allowed to be unreasonable and happy. Open your mind more often than seems necessary * FOREVER IS NOT AS LONG AS IT USED TO BE What time gives in permanence it takes in fluctuation The relationships I stand on to reach with tippy toed grasp The light of heaven Flutter by like flounder disturbed from their sandy bed. My mind probes the past looking for the shroud lines To hold up the sail of hope. Togetherness the banner of life, Bonds to strength, protection, from outside and within. I yearn for a life of love, unbending and calm I am met with a tug of war Which ends in the mud. Days stretch into years but years are no protection from terminus. Forever rings in my head. Promises I have made to myself Promises I have made to others Promises made to me are nothing in the face of the promise of tomorrow. Time flows like air over a row of seedlings, fresh and challenging Sustaining life and carrying away familiarity. Forever is not as long as it used to be. I can live with that, have to live with that. I shake my fist at the sky But it won't make love last. It will not keep my heart from loving again. Sails which have filled before will fill again.
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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 |
02-21-2011, 06:47 AM | #699 |
Practically Lives Here
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Daddy's good girl Join Date: Nov 2009
Location: Jersey
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February 21
Word Comprehension There were scads and scores of words that I had at my command. I could command them that was a fact; comprehend them that was an illusion. My sponsor had every confidence in me and started my word comprehension lessons with the tough ones first: “No,” she would ask, “What don’t you understand the Nnnnnn part or the OHhhhhh part?” Took me sometime to catch on to words deep as that. Serenity that I learned through living Braille. Learned it like any hungry child, by taste. Learned it like learning the ocean as you swim in it. Serenity is my ballast and my bail, as for peace, all I can say is: No comprehension, no peace; Know comprehension, know peace. Re-pattern fear * SEAM ALLOWANCES The space, given and taken. The space used to bind and sew us fast. The permission for humanness And the need for seams to make us whole. The narrow margin is a shoulder on which I lean. Slender strip, a place of refuge. Darts are shaped to hug the curves, I bend to fit to life. Our nearness, being my own part and part of more, Planning and a pattern, cut to order, With allowances made for fraying and fragility, Allow me to feel woven into a web of what is And still hope for more The unfinished garment taking shape Easing and stretching And before my eyes Pins held between the teeth of God.
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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 |
02-22-2011, 05:46 AM | #700 |
Practically Lives Here
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Daddy's good girl Join Date: Nov 2009
Location: Jersey
Posts: 16,642
Thanks: 2,529
Thanked 12,321 Times in 5,198 Posts
Rep Power: 21474867 |
February 22
Ace Like an ace in my pocket step one is the beginning and end of my step work. This step carries the high and low count; its rise is so near to the ground I didn’t have to lift my chin to clear it as I crawled my way in here, its appeal so exalted that it is all I hear when I finish the twelfth and am on my way back around. The high and low of any hand plus the card I keep up my sleeve for emergencies. The greatest blessing is I don’t need four of a kind, not even a pair; as long as I have step one I am guaranteed a full house, full heart, full life and between you and me that’s just how I like it. Lick your lips then smile * SHAME I push shame around my plate like a chunk of spoiled meat. The toxins leaching to every interface and cavity With an inverse half-life, the lethal substance grows Reinforcing and sending runners and tendrils To worlds known and those yet undiscovered. I wage my war on this shapehifting plaque. Thrust and parry, I step back from the unsurmountable walls And set my sights on tearing down the bunkers In my personal city. Like lead plumbing The danger eludes the observation of my fellow citizens I am labeled a lunatic And no attention is paid to my evaluation of water quality. I search for similarly crazed friends Variants within a theme. I depend on the poisoned sanity of my wounded compatriots. We shovel the plate loads of spoiled meat and detritus. The foreshortened mountain of shame Allows tiny strands of light to glimmer across the surface But the shamed devotees turn their heads. We, the few, face the glowering mass. I worry like a petulant child. What if we cannot prevail? Is shame stronger then recovery? Have we traveled this far to miss the glaciers edge? As it slides away from us I console myself with the sure knowledge that, This life of sobriety is better than any other offering Healing the world, What a lovely thought. Living free from shame today, What a necessity.
__________________
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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12 step recovery, acoa, al-anon, alcoholic, alcoholics anonmyous, coda, on-line meeting |
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