10-24-2011, 04:30 AM | #961 |
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October 24
Spectrum The quality of the poetry is so dependant on the quality of the lighting. Improve the color palette and yes, you’ve guessed the result. So, I say to you, “Turn up the lights. Do not write in half-dark grief and limp through the words. Spotlight what you can and illuminate the rest. You needn’t make a sound, needn’t pitch a tent, needn’t build a bridge, though you may, may if you wish and wish is what I do, wish for better light and when the clouds break loose in the sky and let the sun pour, I lift my pen and make it all; for what was needed was this better light.” Imagine your webbed feet * PICK ME SIX NUMBERS Knowing all the page numbers And quotes of the Big Book But not being able to apply them Is like knowing all the winning lottery numbers With the inability to buy a ticket. Telling my story has little or nothing To do with public speaking Recovery has so much more to do With willingness rather than studiousness. Popularity contest, policing meetings And service politics are a circus I have attended far too often. Empty rooms sporting great curtains Does not a home make Comprehension is no substitute for acquiescence
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10-25-2011, 04:14 AM | #962 |
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October 25
Behind Closed Doors The children of happy fathers make no sense to me. I have known no such peace. What is it to live in a world where there is a man who likes you, someone who approves? I feel like my chin would have always been out there to see, no ducking, no need to hide, had there been a good man to whom I could turn. The dark circles under the eyes of my soul make me old, old and different from those kids, mere children, safe in a home with a happy man whose joy it is to be their Dad. Dance cheek to cheek with your muse when you can * DETAIL DAYS Detail days seem like lost soulless days. I sort the piles of endless junk mail Catch up on bills, letters, laundry. I don’t leave the house but in someway I feel like I’m not in my home. It’s like a day of pulling out all the needles, Splinters and thorns which accumulate Under my skin from rough weeks and road rash. I steel myself to the pain of relief and rescue. Cleared counters, emptied baskets, finished worry list Leave me with that newly moved in feel. Piles overwhelm me but sometimes details define me.
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10-26-2011, 04:05 AM | #963 |
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October 26
Basket Ball Idiots out number poets, this is a fact, though I do wonder why. It cannot be an easy lot spending your days in slow witted discharge; I would think they might at least try putting pen to paper. I think I would rather live in a world filled with bad poets rather than drifting on this ship of fools, but the troubadours rise with imbeciles as their cover and poems fall from favor. I wonder how I could make verse a contagion, how could I make it spread? You may laugh at me, but think what some guy did with a broken peach basket and a rubber ball. Check your gait for swing * STRONG WORDS Serious language, deep language, real language Helps me by grounding me. I don’t have to be nice for company When I can just tell the truth. I needn’t have guests with virgin ears Or unrealistic expectations, I no longer pander to such foolishness. I know the layered meaning of my words. I value the intensity of a large vocabulary. I am not intimidated by prudish co-conspirators Who stare down pointed noses At powerful utterances. Weak words make poor boundaries And breed victims. I will not be trapped by niceties I will speak clearly out of necessity.
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10-27-2011, 04:12 AM | #964 |
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October 27
Circuit Speaker It isn’t until I listen long to the Northside poet that I realize there is such a thing as a Chicago accent. I hear it as I never have before. I don’t hear it in my beloved Rodger, hear only the hope he brings to share. As I get ready to walk to the podium I wish that no one hears the Jersey in my voice only the experience I bring to share. Dance through the mud then clean off your shoes * CLINGING Large bugs cling to the soffits Upside down as an alternative To the rain-soaked landscape I salute their efforts to find security In a shrinking list of possible locations. Awkward situations place my fingertips And toenails holding positions Trying to avoid life’s harsher choices. Bitter, chilling options are cheerful alternatives To no option at all I can take the difficult positions as an advantage. I have survived and this is the goal of the game. I am here--come what may. I make the best of the worst times so God can help me Make the best of the best times.
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10-28-2011, 04:25 AM | #965 |
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October 28
Picard The little tin whistle I yearn to play squeaks in my head warning that I have no time to learn and a tin whistle though slender is not easy. I think if I had a magic wrinkler for time I might learn, I remember characters that have, but I rethink this and remember I don’t want to win the lottery again. I am too good at too many things and have no time to enjoy their full round pleasure. I have no need for additional longing or extended guilt. Print your fingers * I DON’T SEE HOW This is the smallest of the fragile excuses I use To keep from doing things to make me happy. Petty in a way I would never be with others I rake my desires and tiny hopes over the coals. Tired platitudes are plated up as first serves By my short order short sightedness Protecting crusted over nonsense And living the life of a lockout Not even a squatter on the fringes of my dreams. I stumble in my efforts To see hope, joy or my purpose, Ignoring the fact that I must step from the box Before I can see the horizon or more.
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10-29-2011, 06:36 AM | #966 |
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October 29
To Your Health Health is a pleasure; health restored is celebration girded with gratitude. The shock of illness quickly imbeds itself to an irrefutable unchangeable fact. When this veil is lifted the body responds with glee, the soul with relief touched with disbelief. The satisfaction of being hale is the bedrock and once this is shaken its return is nothing more than astonishing. I am never more aware of the miraculous nature of life than when I feel alive once more after having felt the doom of sickness. Throw out ancestral trash * QUILTER What more comfort can exist in the world Than a conglomeration of turned edges and love? Fancy stitches or not the assembled world of cloth Stands testament to devotion and diligence. Careful collections, meaningful to the collector And mysterious to the possessor, Fulfill the primal urge to shelter and be safe. Time is testimony to endurance. Thread against thread, Solidarity is strength embracing flexibility. The bed of life is made and remade daily With the affection of kind quilters needles of love.
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10-30-2011, 06:29 AM | #967 |
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October 30
On a Half-shell in Front of Tiffany’s Pretty petty pearls wait in oysters more perturbed than annoyed. I string my tears for the sake of posterity leaving the dreams to fend for themselves. I am nothing if not splendidly prepared for a life less steeped in wishes than realism. Opening volleys tell a tale of round irritation, but I am not finished just yet. Joy comes from surpassing obstacles and wearing healed grief as precious gems around my neck. Pick a retirement home for your critics * EIGHT MISTAKES CLOSER I am eight mistakes closer to perfection. As long as I fall forward, progress is being made. I fail meticulously toward my goal More cannot be asked. Loss, pain, frustration are strong teachers and motivators. I suck each splinter for knowledge, Extracting juice from every fragment for information. In spite of sprains and strains I have stretched Attaining almost my full height. Growth is a wonderful thing though cost is always involved. Mistakes are an unavoidable price But well worth the expense. They are an expense which pays dividends Dividends that move me towards perfection.
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10-31-2011, 09:58 AM | #968 |
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October 31
Halloween “Why does self-centered fear wear a costume that looks so much like ‘other people’s opinion’?” I asked my sponsor. “For the same reason that booze masquerades as ‘a good time.’ How would you ever fall into a pit which used no pretense? Naked ambition attracts far fewer devotees than addicts of ‘must make Mama and Daddy proud’ or the ‘doing better for my kids crowd’.” “Ambition is not all together bad!” I crow. “Neither is fear in its proper scale, but fear cloaks itself to seize more than its share of your life, just like any parasite. So take your spring tonic like a good kid and keep the worms at bay.” Don’t bother licking the self stick stamps * FLORAL ECSTASY I could eat fields of buttercups And drink down ponds of water lilies. Wear foxgloves and a pair of lady slippers I could wrap myself in bridal wreathe And under pin with nettles. I could rise with the roses Lay with the lilies Shade with the sage Sing with the trumpet vines Run away from home With a Turks cap on my head And a pansy in my pocket Until the four o’clock say Its time to come home. For evening primrose and then bed.
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11-01-2011, 04:30 AM | #969 |
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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.
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11-02-2011, 07:17 AM | #970 |
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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.
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11-03-2011, 07:27 AM | #971 |
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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.
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11-04-2011, 04:06 AM | #972 |
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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.
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11-05-2011, 07:30 AM | #973 |
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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 belies 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.
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11-06-2011, 07:44 AM | #974 |
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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.
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11-07-2011, 05:06 AM | #975 |
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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.
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11-08-2011, 05:36 AM | #976 |
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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.
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11-09-2011, 05:17 AM | #977 |
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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.
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11-10-2011, 07:17 AM | #978 |
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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.
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11-11-2011, 07:06 AM | #979 |
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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.
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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 |
11-12-2011, 06:41 AM | #980 |
Practically Lives Here
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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.
__________________
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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