01-05-2010, 08:16 AM | #81 |
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January 5
Time’s Temperament Bubbling tides of white water, time roils past me and my protests go unheard. Physic feedback loops revisit raw moments to me with inopportune exactitude. The beautiful droplets of dawn rain down then evaporate leaving another day’s timeline to fan out before me. The alternating fury and jubilation of passing intervals leaves a challenge, first a question of bend or break, second a call to forecast. Can I flex or will I live in pieces? Shall I look at patterns and strive for harmonious waltz or turn my face from the calendar dreading each trice? Bully or benefactor time rolls. I can go with it or be under it that choice is mine. Orbit order ~ THE FLOCK Today I came to a place in the road covered with birds The nearby field - covered in birds - the trees covered. As I approached the birds took wing The flock responded to my presence Each bird flew - the sky darkened with their flight. Wave upon wave, boundaries intact Taking action in the face of obstacle. The gift of instinct displayed for me as I fly to my meeting My instinct rehab, I am learning my intuition My sponsor spoons it to me from the steps. I suck it down never knowing what it is about the process That makes me better Anymore then I know how grain and bugs make birds fly. I have theories, things I roll in my fingers when I'm nervous. I get glimmers. Things my Higher Power sparkles in my eyes for a treat. In truth, I don't know how, I don't need to know Anymore than birds need to know lift to weight ratios. When I respond to life events When I spend less time self-concerned I am closer to self. "Aren't we spiritually centered?" Quips my sponsor "Yes" I reply "One day in a row." "I'm going for the record." "That's all the birds have." "You're doing as well as they." she smiles and pats my back
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01-05-2010, 08:17 AM | #82 |
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January 5
Time’s Temperament Bubbling tides of white water, time roils past me and my protests go unheard. Physic feedback loops revisit raw moments to me with inopportune exactitude. The beautiful droplets of dawn rain down then evaporate leaving another day’s timeline to fan out before me. The alternating fury and jubilation of passing intervals leaves a challenge, first a question of bend or break, second a call to forecast. Can I flex or will I live in pieces? Shall I look at patterns and strive for harmonious waltz or turn my face from the calendar dreading each trice? Bully or benefactor time rolls. I can go with it or be under it that choice is mine. Orbit order ~ THE FLOCK Today I came to a place in the road covered with birds The nearby field - covered in birds - the trees covered. As I approached the birds took wing The flock responded to my presence Each bird flew - the sky darkened with their flight. Wave upon wave, boundaries intact Taking action in the face of obstacle. The gift of instinct displayed for me as I fly to my meeting My instinct rehab, I am learning my intuition My sponsor spoons it to me from the steps. I suck it down never knowing what it is about the process That makes me better Anymore then I know how grain and bugs make birds fly. I have theories, things I roll in my fingers when I'm nervous. I get glimmers. Things my Higher Power sparkles in my eyes for a treat. In truth, I don't know how, I don't need to know Anymore than birds need to know lift to weight ratios. When I respond to life events When I spend less time self-concerned I am closer to self. "Aren't we spiritually centered?" Quips my sponsor "Yes" I reply "One day in a row." "I'm going for the record." "That's all the birds have." "You're doing as well as they." she smiles and pats my back
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01-06-2010, 12:28 AM | #83 |
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New Format
I've seen that boat.! !
Thanks for the BD wishes and all... the fun. Thanks for all the posts here too. |
01-06-2010, 05:08 AM | #84 | |
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All my love, the girl
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01-06-2010, 05:08 AM | #85 |
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January 6
Hand Me Down Pain You have sent a cold thing into my heart it causes my feet to move me away from you. It need not be spoken of this is a thing of ice and lead. Words are no help here action is the only cure. Eternity can be spent with a soul bisected by slivers. Stepping the willing way to joy and freedom seems so unlikely from this frosty local. Make my mind up I must. Close my eyes and move forward. I will leave your pain behind me I hope not to have to leave you. Kiss tiny pebbles and roll them away ~ HELP FROM STRANGE SOURCES I cannot get my mind wrapped around the places I find help. I struggle with believing I have been helped. I struggle with disbelief at my own resistance. I am helped daily by many tiny things seen and unseen. I realize now I was injured by the same tiny things. When I was misaligned with my Higher Power The sun rising, the tiny star I circle in this great nothingness It makes my whole day. The air hanging around just in case I need it, Which I often do. The people who live with me, a mean feat. The people who work with me. Those who exist here with me keep my ship on course, How sweet of them to do mostly right everyday of their lives, What a help that is. The whole ecosystem and all the weather What would I do without it? But this is on a good day, On a bad day, the sun is in my eyes and scorching my skin, The air is too still, or well, the wind is always a problem. And people, people are an endless plight, People do things to hurt, annoy and irritate me, Full intent, targeted to me, my life, my wants destroyed. Bugs seek me and I am followed by the darkest cloud, Everyday, all day, lurking. I AM SO THANKFUL FOR A SPONSOR AND A TENTH STEP
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01-06-2010, 08:07 AM | #86 |
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Wandering down that happy road...at least I can se the Crossroads now.
Some days and some nights were so lost, and now, I just forget where my car is parked... That is normal right? ....Right??? Confusion less Confuscious = my own Yin and Yang |
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01-07-2010, 04:22 AM | #87 |
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January 7
Dion Everything in the world happened before I was born and the cinders sift through my fingers. Accomplishing cohesion of the ashes is a goal I have not yet achieved. Cremains precious but meager are a difficult building material, shifting due to emotions and wind, I find they stick too well to my lungs and not well enough to anything else. Tears help, but I will not cry forever. I must draw from a fresh water source and wet the powdery scratch I have inherited and form the world anew. Use caution when interacting with the crème de la crème this may trigger intolerance * OLD GOLDFISH I got them when my sobriety was new. They were tiny little guys, ten cent feeders. I wanted my stepson to sleep soundly In our strange jumble of a home, fresh from purchase. The tank sat on a dresser under his elevated bed Space to fit my hand to feed them No space for baby boy to climb in I loved my goldfish. There is never a NO with goldfish Feed them as often as you want Let the water get cold Put them in a big space, small place, plants, no plants. NO was so hard, I hate and fear No. I am hard, fish are easy. Tears and mesmerizing aquarium Meetings and steps. I could not keep myself alive I don't know how I kept the fish fed. The program kept me going, Kept hope flowing and the fish swam. In this century when we are finally outliving wild goldfish We are sober together, By the grace of Higher Power, in this century. It's been a wonderful time. I am grateful to be here with the goldfish. I am grateful the goldfish are here for me. Expecting so little Maybe I could return the favor
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01-07-2010, 05:33 AM | #88 |
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Happy Anniversary Tommi!!!!!!!!
33 years on continous sobriety!!!!!!
Daddy, as always you are my inspiration! I hope you enjoy this recovery song by recovery folks! All my love, they girl [nomedia="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gaHwzkk6tOQ"]YouTube- los lonely boys-how far is heaven[/nomedia] .
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01-07-2010, 08:55 AM | #89 |
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Thank you so very much. Well...It is an amazement to me.. as I trudge this happy road..
I am one of those miracles ! I did wait for it to happen, and keep watch for the good , the bad, and especially the UUUUGgggggllly. The HP smiles down upon us girl..You too are one of the sober miracles in my life. |
01-07-2010, 08:58 AM | #90 |
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Los Lonely Boys
"Heaven"
Save me from this prison Lord help me get away Cause only you can save me now From this misery Cause I've been lost in my own place And I'm getting' weary How far is heaven And I know I need to change My ways of livin' How far is heaven, Lord can you tell me Cause I've been locked up way too long In this crazy world, how far is heaven I just keep on prayin' Lord Just keep on livin', how far is heaven Lord can you tell me, how far is heaven I just got to know how far, how far is heaven Lord can you tell me Tu que estas en alto cielo, [You that's in a higher place Send me down a blessing] Cause I know there's a better place Than this place I'm livin', how far is heaven So I just got to show some faith And just keep on giving, how far is heaven Lord can you tell me, how far is heaven I just wanna know how far, how far is heaven, Lord can you tell me, how far is heaven, 'cause I just gotta know how far, I just wanna know far . Los Lonely Boys |
01-07-2010, 09:39 AM | #91 |
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PS...about service
Sherrie does keep the light on every day, and so much more folks don't know about.
....Sherrie spoke in front of 1,400 young people at a meeting in Eugene, Ore. this past Sat, and it was awesome. She was the main event speaker Sat night at the Hilton Conference Center for Western Area Conference of Young People in Alcoholics Anonymous. http://wacypaa13.org/. She reaches out and touches so many lives, and I am thankful for her daily service here,on other sites where people can read and take away a moment of sobriety that can be that lifesaver to hold onto in the good and bad days. I know. I have been reading her posts for many, many, years. Thank you LeftWriteFemme Just sayin |
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01-08-2010, 05:20 AM | #92 |
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January 8
Lathe Turning into a spin, the edge cuts into my misconceptions, the point sharp and accurate to a fault digs into the excess I carry around, keeping me from my useful purpose. A good eye and steady hand are needed lest breakthrough ruin me. Not that all is ever lost for a spoon with a hole in the bowl will stir a soup smooth. Relinquishing my burdens and trusting the carvers tools and methods takes great commitment. I am carved commitment or no, but things turn out better when I don’t flinch. If you can’t make hay then mow the lawn * IN A BACKWATER There is a place so removed, uninspired, ignorance flourishes I hate to go there. I avoid it when I can Today I could not avoid it. Today I saw the gable end of a small barn Half hidden in the scrub trees. On the face of the gable end are two plywood cutouts They are large, taking up the major portion of the space. The first is a budgie, a bright blue parakeet, 7 or 8 feet tall. It is tilted to it's side, it looks dyslexic but intriguing Above it is a cutout of a black guitar, similar in length. Hanging long ways across the top, almost from eve to eve. I don't know what it means. Why they are there. Who could have put them there. A story is there, Just sticking it's tongue out at me. I can hardly bear it. I think of God and laugh. If my God has nothing better to do then tease me, I need a better God. I think of my Higher Power and wonder if the power is curious too. Am I overlapping a layer of consciousness I have no part in? Is this subliminal previews of my future? Am I too nosey for my own good? I just don't know It could be something all together different I have only time. Time will tell in the end it always does. I hate to wait
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01-10-2010, 06:53 AM | #93 |
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January 10
Hoarfrost On balmy evenings dew forms in my life and moistens my extremities. This friendly act requires the maintenance of temperature. If I become suddenly cool the landscape changes and the once welcoming vapor is now a show of crystalline rigidity. Cold to the morning light I am brittle and snap at even a tentative touch. For want of passion I have replaced it with definition and structure I can not absorb. I am outlined clearly but no longer myself. I am frozen, formally changed within and without. Warmth is necessary, but how to start my own fire? Learn, I must and quickly lest frostbite set in. Wear your mantle don’t leave it to the fireplace * LONELINESS EATS MY LUNCH There are days loneliness eats my lunch And I can't fight back. How can I stand it, How can it still be this bad? I pull out the old chestnuts. If I'm not happy with what I have How could I be happier with more? Even tickets on the 50 yard line don't interest me, I came to play. I think of other slogans, the tidbits, the smiles and hugs. I roll them around. Still, there are days my lunch is gulped down And I sit with my plate empty. Pickle juice, coleslaw drool is small comfort Actually, it's a jeer. I stare at my empty plate I turn and twist it, stick my tongue out at it. "Your good company." Says my sponsor Then why am I alone, if I'm so good If my company is worthwhile Why do I sit her hungry and desperate? "Are you sure you are?" It sure feels that way. "Well, it might be true and it might not." I get it. I am unhooked from myself I am ignoring the multitude at my elbow While looking for someone in my lap I'm holding out for old terms from a new contract I am loved by people Who aren't trying to consume me And I am letting my expectations Dine for free.
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01-11-2010, 05:15 AM | #94 |
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January 11
Pepo My father used to destroy a perfectly good watermelon by cutting a triangle in the top and pouring a bottle of vodka into it. I used to destroy my perfectly good melon the same way. Emulating bad ideas in new ways was a onetime pastime of mine. Giving it up was harder than I had expected. Flawed thinking blends so freely with my mental landscape I have trouble distinguishing it. Condemning the action and not the man is not usually my preferred method. I would rather condemn the man, but this leaves me with the actions in place and him long gone. And though I prefer him gone I will recreate him within myself if I don’t flush his actions as well. I have a good pumpkin on my shoulders but it is my job to keep it intact. No need to wait for joy, jump when you please * LIFE IS TOO GOOD I know it sounds crazy, is crazy But I hate having the fear, the gnawing gut, of WHAT IF WHAT IF I can't maintain this, the sober life I live. WHAT IF I get struck, unable to connect to my Higher Power? I had a spiritual awaking WHAT IF I get spiritual narcolepsy? My spiritual cord was cut when I was young, not by my choosing WHAT IF it gets cut again? "WHAT IF this line of thinking cuts it?" Asks my sponsor I hate when she's right. WHAT IF this is a test? Be like them or not. Follow the path of the twelve steps When there is no weight of need pushing me When everything is going in my direction I have to keep my eye on the ball for myself. I am still not God This is the lesson The abusers never learned The one I have to. What went wrong was not bad people Making bad choices, in bad circumstances It was disconnected people Making decisions without help. I have to stay in your pocket Never be a free bird I have to remember what true freedom is It's not being cut loose. I have had that And it never felt free Keep your eye on the ball And hold onto my hand.
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01-12-2010, 04:15 AM | #95 |
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January 12
Live Bait Is being a taunt to others really a life? Dangling as the cover for a hook, luring intended and unintended to their deaths, is that living? Or if I draw you with my attack rather than my appeal is that a worthwhile existence? If I carry myself filled with poison praying for a strike is that anything other than a march to an unhappy grave for two, or more? Hidden under an avalanche of harassment strips me of my vital quality and my soul loses its true nature. I am allowed to transcend the setup of competition and social strife. It’s alright to be tempting with no agenda. I could be an appetizer if only I removed the barbs or better yet I could be dessert. Tuck tiny wishes between your toes. * JOY IS NOT ENOUGH I was driving around in my car Eating a meltingly ripe persimmon On the radio came a fiddle playing band Performing their rendition of In The White Room I was traveling with the three drafts of my first step Version one consisted of 690-some words And the final had only four, JOY IS NOT ENOUGH That's it, the whole thing. Today my life is unmanageable Due to the fact that having a balanced life Feeling my wide range of feelings, including joy, Is not sufficient to eliminate the pain and damage of the past. My horrific childhood has not healed Has not mended seamlessly I have joy today, everyday, at some point In proportion to my sober choices. I fail to realize the promise doesn't say, Heal the past It says, I will not regret the past. I don't, at least not any of the choices I made, Other peoples choices are not mine to regret. I will not wish to shut the door on the past And I don't wish to. I want it Healed I may not get my wish Just because I am doing my part to heal the past Doesn't make anyone else do it I can't strong-arm the perpetrators into recovery The way they strong-armed me into the abuse JOY IS NOT ENOUGH but it's a hell of a start.
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01-12-2010, 12:14 PM | #96 | ||
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I just wanted to say that, yet again, your words have really touched something in me. These last two, Life is Too Good and Joy is Not Enough are especially timely for me right now. I love that feeling I get when something I read or hear really connects for me and the light goes on and I finally "get it" ... Thank you, Sherrie.
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01-12-2010, 12:27 PM | #97 | |
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01-13-2010, 05:32 AM | #98 |
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January 13
Offset I often feel out of round and unmatched to my counterparts. Awkwardly I sit unable to strike a plausible pose. I want my asymmetry to seem chic. I feel a victim of universal ugliness and gracelessly plod through my days. Luckily offset thinking, the partner of my offset soul, saves me. I see that I am uniquely useful, like a screwdriver set at right angles for use where a straight one could not reach. I am counterbalance and compensation. I may be lateral but I am also collateral. I am an embellisher, beneficial in unexpected ways and shouldn’t seek to be inline with the multitude. I am the new growth, the spur to the future. Romance the noodles in your soup * GRAVITY WORKS ALL THE TIME Limits and boundaries are a drag I hate feeling tied to the ground I know I could fly If not for unseen forces I sense myself lightening, smoothing I drop my burdens, I pick up speed Fourth dimension Hell, I'm proverbial vapor trails I should explain, when I get moving this fast I inevitably wind myself into a position Where my head is up my nether regions A place it does not belong I have slowly grown to love my limits No restraint holds me back In reality, I am supported, rooted as it were I am not hydroponic, I can live in the real world I am me Encouraged by the wind and the rain I am not a hothouse flower I am truly free I can walk where I was born to walk I forget life has not been found outside my little world And when it is I am still better off being me
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01-14-2010, 05:24 AM | #99 |
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January 14
Specks Spectacles are for specks; tiny things that must be watched. Commotion is nothing but a congregation of minutia with an audience. How many small things do I strain my eyes to see; then seek help to pursue further? Some of these are put on display fishing for voyeurs. Others are secreted away only to be ferreted out through magnification. Whether curiosity or contempt drives me to these pinpoints I must search my motives before I scan the plain. For truly if I am not careful I, myself will end up either speck or spectacle. Let old wood and old women inhabit the shoreline of your mind. * NO MAPS Maps have existed longer than I have By the time of my birth there was aerial photography Which had made pinpoint accuracy the norm. I can be tracked by satellite on my daily commute I can get a trip tic And travel to the far reaches of this continent "So what is your problem?" Asks my sponsor There is no map for where we've been going There are only the twelve steps, but after that- It is all uncharted territory except of course- For my families warnings about dragons 'Those critters stay to home mostly." She says "You have bigger things to worry about." So where's the map I need to know where to go. No Map, we go through this together The pitfalls are similar, sex and money There are a few others What each of us finds on this journey is uncharted Plus if you spend your time looking down You will miss the view. We prop each other up as we step off into the unknown And reel each other back If we start falling off the beam. How do I know if I'm doing it right "Are you still sober?" Yes, but I'm unsure. Lots of people are sober Right up until the time they're drunk "So true, it's all about motive." It's difficult to chart a heart "Do you have willingness?" Yes, you know I do. I have found that is the vehicle To everywhere, So., Learn to enjoy the ride.
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01-15-2010, 05:18 AM | #100 |
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January 15
Comparison Shopping Cost analysis of the yeas and nays requires a savvy consumer. Every word has a variable price dependant on whom it is spoken to and when it is said. Some words charge compound interest and others pay dividends. Timing and delivery is of the utmost importance. Knowledge of the markets requires constant assessment. The risk to benefit ratio varies widely and the short term verses the long term price can flip the market from profit to loss. Hold my tongue, speak my mind, these must be weighed; the clock consulted and inventories taken. What I say and when can be less a matter of bull or bear than whether or not I can afford to be a sheep. Tap the wellspring of your heart. * FEEDING SQUIRRELS ON A ONE LANE BRIDGE Cattle-corn spread on a single lane bridge The Trap, Food or Safety There are plenty of other choices My disease sees none of them. Gluttony and danger the perfect combination How can I resist? Why would I resist? I have to have More. I cannot depend on my nature The ability God gave me to survive in my environs Help must come from outside And must be wild and dramatic. Inward help is boring Too subtle, to tiresome Where is my image? Where is my excitement? How am I going to prove my God worthy? Without too much Without perilous risk and rescue I can't. I can't prove my God My God doesn't need to prove anything to me. I can find my way off the beaten path Away from the prying eyes of rubberneckers. No cheers from the crowd are necessary I have the equipment, it comes standard When I take the controls And follow the twelve step tutorial. I should be able to manage just fine No Mack truck in my face As I stuff myself With ill gotten grain.
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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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12 step recovery, acoa, al-anon, alcoholic, alcoholics anonmyous, coda, on-line meeting |
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