Jane Street

April 30

Jane Street

The space between wanting to live and not wanting to hurt is the alley in which I live.  This lane is not as narrow as you might think, in some places there is room for parking on one side.  Since I reside here more often than not I have filled it with many of the appliances, which allow me to pretend at life.  It doesn’t afford a truly clean or cheerful locale, but there are laughs, sometimes flowers in the spring.  Finding my way out of this is tricky.  When unlocked I find these are backdoors to commerce and though better than being sold wholesale, retail is not what I was hoping to find as I wrest myself from a confined existence.  I have heard of those who drive through   plate glass ignoring the structure.  I think this is less workable from the back.  What is left when I can’t bully or climb?  I guess I will have to throw my hands up and pray.

Acknowledge a myth about yourself

*

ROLES

You don’t have to give up playing God

Because it was a bad thing to do.

You have to give it up because it doesn’t work

Said my sponsor in her most gentle voice.

In a world seemingly spinning out of control

You, brave child, stepped up to the plate and took a swing

That is heroic not demonic

But impractical nevertheless

You have to be your own full-time job

Even when it feels like there are other jobs left unfilled

You don’t have to run around finding the feet

To fill those empty shoes

Maybe those empty shoes are just bait for a bad trap

Keep on your journey and you will come to a place where the work

Is being accomplished by a surprising cast of characters

You will be free to stick to the role ahead of you.

Would You Rather a Lamp?

April 29

Would You Rather a Lamp?

I am a girl filled with expectations.  Like a ginger jar filled, stuffed caulker block full, though the filling is the part which is unpredictable; it could be match books, or seashells, acorns or all those pretty capsules.  This makes me erratic and sometimes volatile.  Are you strong enough or far too sane to stay and help me sort the contents?  It’s lonely work without a witness or a spotter.  I rather be alone than with you reluctantly, so please try to shuck that husk and remain.  Yes, I am sometimes capricious, but I try never to be cruel.  I know sometimes you convince yourself that leaving me to my own devices is the wisest of courses, but don’t be fooled; you disappear due to your weakness not strength and the worst part about the price of abandonment is that everyone has to pay it.

Design a window that looks out on your dreams

*

THE SHINY THING

The starling stands with the candy wrapper in its beak

The cellophane flexes in the breeze

Here is my life

I have the shiny thing in my possession , What do I do?

Do I give up my intended tasks to attempt dominance

Or control of the shiny thing?

Do I release this thing of intrigue and beauty

I am drawn to the shimerance and sparkle

But shutter at the price

The world is filled with shiny things

I can enjoy them

But need to leave them where they lay.

Periomenville

April 28

Perkiomenville

Being actually alive does not feel as good as I imagined the relief of being dead would feel and therefore I have anxiety and dread, or is it disappointment.  I feel like a failure when I am in the process of trying and I want to throw the pieces in the air and run.  Does this mean I’m weak or does it mean I am frightened?  Or is there some heavenly host of other reasons why my crêpe paper soul twists and turns in the breeze of the marketplace?  Some part of me was auctioned off and its removal left a psychic scar that even equanimity can not ease.  I am all things wonderful and yet there is this flaw, this toe tied thread which holds me back, holds me down with painful accurate precision.  I look for the knife with which to cut it all the while wondering if this will turn it into a toe tag or a price tag.

Police your self destruction

*

K-TURNS

I do not believe in a universe that makes complete sense

I often find myself trapped

Because the things I pull into no longer feel firm.

I attempt K-turns in alleys far too narrow for the maneuver

I can’t back myself through the passages I plunged into willingly

My faith doesn’t compute in reverse and I find this disconcerting

I may walk into the face of fire

But find it impossible to turn my back on the flame

Today a one-way faith is fine

As long as I am moving forward.

Blinded

April 27

Blinded

Alcoholism hits me like a kind of blindness.  I stagger through the living room cursing anyone who changes familiar placement or published timetables. Just like every aspect of this disease, shocked sightlessness, is mine to deal with.  I must pick up the white cane, procure the Seeing Eye pup, learn to read clustered braille.  When my vision clears in these well worked spaces I am relieved, but I must accept that when I walk into a new room more often then not I will be blind again and must pick up my walking stick once more.

Apply a timeframe to misery

*

STREET SIGNS

Hanging out on the corner of Disillusion Boulevard and Grief Road

Then returning to that special spot on Despair Avenue

Was my daily routine.

I made the circle and never looked far afield

Widening my circuit

Allowed me to find Anticipation Place and Hopeful Terrace

I pushed my search and found roads

Whose existence I never fathomed intersected

Creating areas of intrigue

Optimism Court interfacing with Realization Way

Is the fairest of my finds

But many a fine street corner has me lurking

Catching stray sunshine and encouragement

I make my home wherever the hospitality is available

And return less often to the dark and stifling places of the past

Happiness is where you find it

Just make sure to read the signs.

Imperturbable

April 26

Imperturbable

Perfectionism is a cover, a blanket of lead; hard to move and rich with poison.  What it tries to hide is my unwillingness to struggle and strive.  It’s not a fear of failure, but the horror of success after a long hot pursuit.  If I can stall on the intricacies of the first move there is no further movement.  If I can fail before I begin there is no sweat, no stain, no stink.  Catastrophe is no bother, but skinned knees are my undoing.  Winning is not so important to me; my unfortunate goal is to look untroubled.

Snap a picture of your beliefs

*

TRANSITIONS

During the months of winter

The trees stand tall and leafless

Static in their appearance, frozen in direction

The insurgence of spring brings to life the truth

The buds and flowers show the draw of the their owners

The pull of life from the earth and sky.

Other trees have begun to restore the gifts so graciously given

These leafless giants open themselves

As home and sustenance to the surrounding community

Returning favors and flavors, coming to terms with wholeness

Celebrations of all I have, call for me to give back

Even during the time when we all look the same.

Coming Home to Work

April 25

Coming Home to Work

I have arrived home to a beehive; everyone industrious, everyone filled with purpose, everything buzzing right along.  My response to this of course is anger.  I have a sting and I want to use it.  I have a place it falls into yet I fear falling.  The living world is now opened to me, but my destination had been death for so long that the prospect of diligence ignites steel blue fury.  I divide my time between gratitude and rage.  I want to accuse myself, rescue myself, then I remember everyone in this place has a buzz, a stripe and a stinger.

Hum in a foreign language

*

DESSERT

I have to be my own appetizer

I have to be the thing which entices and intrigues me

I must be the roughage, the salad full of color and variety

The entrée must be me, as well.

The things which sustain me

The meat of my life

I have to supply and swallow it down

I can be all this.

I run to the sweetness of others

But this cannot be my source of sustenance

The greater part of me

Needs to derive from me.

I can set the table

And fill it with the fullness of who I am

I am enough and others are dessert

Twinkies will never be sufficient, they can only be a treat.

More Better

April 24

More Better

When I take a break from my idyllic life, trading up to paradise, I balk at thoughts of returning to the simply marvelous day to day I have worked so hard to attain.  Self accusation floods under the door, but I whimilate it with fact.  My reluctance to turn my back on a good thing is an asset which many days keeps me sober.  I greedily seize every improvement and hold on for dear life.  If reflections of the past even held a glimmer for me I might worry; I turn from all but the highest good.  I don’t regret the past but I shall never return to it.

Glance at the path you feel lead to

*

REALLY RAINING

Why do people ask if someone is really sober?

They’re checking for winners, I guess responded my sponsor

But what does that mean?

Well, when the clouds roll in

And the next thing you know it’s really raining

You can clearly discern the difference between that and just a shower

The commitment of water saturates the atmosphere

And rain is the undeniable certainty

That is what people are looking for

And they ask to discover if the person even comprehends the concept

What do they do if the person is really sober?

Stand next to them

And soak it all in.

                                                     

Exposition

April 23

Exposition

Is there a difference between being discerning and being critical?  Is it in the direction from whence I came or the destination to which I am driven?  Does performance to an audience, even if it is the one in my head, create the line of demarcation or is it all one big bowl of goo?  Does putting too fine a point of everything pierce my serenity and prick my skin?  Is it the grating unplanned nature of life that bothers me into commentary or is it my inborn desire to dissection that pushes me?  And where is there room for kindness; is it in my dissertation or could it be in my critique?

Bury ideas about nuts

*

THE MEAL

Home cooking is the key

I want to order in,

Have my life delivered to the door

The takeout menus entice me

From three courses on china

To burgers handed through sliding windows.

It all sounds good and I request all for take home

But this is not the way

I must light the flame and chop the veggies

I can’t have a life prepared by others

I can share recipes and suggestions

This is help not displacement

I can stand and cook with others

And together make a feast

I can not sit and wait to be served.

I stand at the range while the sauce simmers

And it comes clear

I am my own meal.

Bummed

April 22

Bummed

I accept change like coins slipped into a cup that sits beside me on the curb; never did it occur to me that I look in need of pity or alms from strangers, which is to say I don’t accept much these days, yet I do not fight it either.  I keep my head down when I can no longer fend off the inevitable.  I may not win control or compliance, might not remain strong enough to fight another day, but this too is a blessing somehow.  A laying down of arms and money in my pocket makes the world a funny place to endure when I’m living in the tiny room in my head. What good news it would be if I learned to throw the windows open and let the day take me, though this time it’s G-d that needs to wear the ear muffs and lead me through the coldness of change.  On my own I just walk further down the blind alleys and fold myself on this sidewalk in exhaustion.  I don’t like the tea or the sympathy, but I don’t think I would mind if G-d took me in.

Alphabetize your expectations

*

HOLD CARD

My bottom pulled my hold card to the tabletop

I turned it over and found I have a bit of value

Each time I turned over my will

My value increased.

After many spins, the face cards appear

I’m the Jack, the Queen, the King

I revel in the times and practice it has taken to get here

I play my hand and take my chances

I have been privileged to pair with wonderful sober partners

Who turn themselves over and transform before my eyes

The years raise the anti

And I play close to my chest

The stakes are high

And if I turn in the wrong direction

I can be the Joker once again.

Bound

April 21

Bound

The reason the sleeves of my disease wrap around and tie in the back is so that I will struggle with change.  Alcoholism is my straightjacket and my goal is that ‘loose garment life’ I’ve heard so much about.  The sweat I work up from railing against my confining existence causes petulance.  Frothing and enervated, defeat is the landing on which I collapse, acceptance a flight of steps away.  My ailment leads me to believe I have nothing to hold onto as I adjust; and though this isn’t true, the fact remains that this is still a process of letting go.

Have a parenthetical lunch with a friend

*

PINK CLOUD

When the pink cloud lands in my valley

My task is to walk

The pleasure of its presence can never outweigh

The practice this cloud affords me.

Walking in a haze of cherry blossom lightness

The future is a blur I do not fear

Forward motion seeds my inertia

I will keep on.

When the test begins

And I must proceed in the obscurity of night

The lively steps of pink-cloud days

Will cheer and empower me.

I can imbed my future with right action

And bank the confidence I feel today

Saving it for the rain swept days which come to everyone

Progress is positive even when made in bliss.

What I Take from Laban's House

April 20

What I Take from Laban’s House

If I have the audacity to have a problem I must provide the instantaneous solution or be the cause of world-wide panic.  Additionally it is the height of rudeness to have open-ended dilemma.  It makes the gods uncomfortable don’t you know; makes them shift in their seats and wish me away.  I prevent banishment by either, being problem free or solution-full and when the answers are not to their liking, I exile myself saving them the inconvenience and me the embarrassment.  It is never good to implode the household deities; you never know when you might need one for historic perspective or a door stop.  

Inventory your reservations

*

WHEN A SNAPPER CROSSES THE ROAD

What should I do?

I see the soggy green/gray lump creeping the macadam

Too slow to survive for long

The urge in me to aim

And end the duckling-eaters life

Is short lived but a palpable surge

My Disney style justice is dismissed

But heard from nonetheless

Shall I pull over and assist?

This turtle is as ill equipped

For this stretch of road

As I am ill equipped to aid in its conveyance

Should I reach with my fingers or toes

To something I know can extend its neck

And sever me from parts I hold dear?

The ever present missionary in me has spoken and is silenced

In fact what I can do is slow down and give wide birth

I know this creature is a danger but never more so than me.

Ground Floor

April 19

Ground Floor

Step 10 is the place where the doors slide open and I discover I am out of the basement.  I have to pay close attention to where my feet are; it is so easy to stumble here in the light of day.  Oblivious limitations and universally accepted interpretations are pried from installation and put on trial.  Never is it acceptable to allow my alcoholic thinking to make decisions for my sober life. The road to my door must be kept clear so I can get out to do my part and so G-d can come home to me.

Spin heads, spin tales, spin dry

*

CHAPTER & VERSE

I remember being trained and rehearsed for finding the words

Which would release my soul from bondage

The scrupulous concern for detail pointed me to heaven

And yet I drank.

Inside these rooms the path is wide

Judgment is suspended and I have the right to be wrong

The penalties for error can be great

But the privilege and risk are mine

As in all things, the extremists come

They have come to this place too

Thumpers hound and belittle

Threaten and cajole

They tell page numbers like punch lines

And narrow the field at every opportunity

I can't stay sober sitting on my old stool

I can't maintain desire by their chapter and their verse.

In Training

April 18

In Training

Like a faithful dog that was hard to train, patience is a thing hoped for yet peevish during the breaking in.  Stanch companionability is hard won, but worth the cost of acquisition.  And what is the price I truly paid in the end; whatever I gave in the pursuit of patience was a cheap babysitter and kept me from far worse reformation.  For what would I do in this late day and age as a tempest torn toddler, no bottle to sooth my woes and bothers.  Strictly speaking this is a world ill suited to the edgy intolerant masses and only seems to fit those who can mark time and bend.

Be careful what you do with idols

*

SERVICE & SACRIFICE

The difference between life and death in my recovery

Is the equal difference between service and sacrifice

If I offer you what is in my hand, fine

If I also give you my fingertips, I am lost.

Service lightens the load in my heart

Sacrifice removes my tools for living

When I go into debt for your existence

The cheer and optimism is sucked from my awareness

My eyes go dead and soon I follow

The cingulotomy of obligation crucifies my future

And murders true hope and love

Service feeds my heart and yours

Renovating makes space

It builds the muscles for joy and contentment

Pumping and refilling

My plate with spirituality.

Like an Elf in an Empty Tree

April 17

Like an Elf Working in an Empty Tree

The chairs in the loft are empty, but I still hear the choir sing.  The bottle though it’s empty, still sometimes calls my name.  Though front pocket is empty and there is rolled up empty sleeve, still the nicotine haunts my dreams. On this empty road I travel, I still long for company.  The stillness is not all that’s empty, but I run to fill that spot.  Chaos is like a tapeworm it eats me from inside, but in the meantime I still believe it’s filling me. 

Curve around what is sharp on your tongue

*

HOW THINGS SEEM

Not everyone who pushes me down is my enemy

Not everyone who pulls me up is my friend

I have been seduced by the closeness of people

Who used me as their shield

When I have been held in a place of honor

The  point man of life

I forgot that made me the replacement target

For the one who stood behind me

I have been offended as I was thrown to the ground

The hands that shoved me I saw as my rejecters

I was spared the tragedy and peril of the thing which flew by my ear

Thanks only to the grace of a thrust in the right direction

Accurate appraisal is my weakness

Seeing thing for what they are is hard

Things are rarely how they seem

Not Fur but Fin

April 16

Not Fur but Fin

You can’t delay the river, I’ve tried, all it does is distort.  I block the flow and swamp ensues, mighty oaks waist deep in water.  The current is strong and I fear being swept away, not realizing I was born to swim.  Dreading the swim back for spawn I try to stay too close to my origins, never make it to open water, never to live the life I was intended for. I’ve heard it said, “Don’t push the river it flows by itself,” but I can’t stall it either. 

Line up the little endearments offered you

*

FEEDING THE MONSTER

Who will feed the monster, once they’ve made her?

Her hunger burns in her like a beacon

Should I let her starve?

Should I put her on rations of old crust and tepid water?

Rebuke her as if she were her own idea

Possibly bind her hands and cover her eyes

Stand her in line with the good girls and fit her in

Turn her visage from her desire and tell her to forget?

Hold her hand and tell her that’s enough?

When I stand in the face of her yawning hunger

What do I say---It's for your own good?

Well that's what THEY said too.

Chickens and Eggs

April 15

Chickens and Eggs

Who is more sober the early riser or the long-timer?  How do we get here and what does it mean.  It all starts with a day, which is good because this is more than we had hoped for, sometimes more than we could do.  Then it moved into an ever escalating game of can you beat this, each day an improvement over what had been accomplished the day before.  For years the standard bearer is the pain or relief of the very first in this string, orbs of 24, yet here stands the question, “Is the essence the last pearl you touch or the total of the strand, which makes it real?”   I don’t know for sure.   Sobriety is like light; is light made up of waves or is it made up of particles and the answer is invariably yes, for it is.  And what you need and how you look at it seems to make the determination, scientific method or no, the watched is affected by the watcher and vice versa.  The end is a day round and imperfect as any and what is strung between the beginning and the end is what you’ve made of it.

Never underestimate bitterness

*

ESCAPING THROUGH THE CEILING

Up and away is my motto

Upwardly mobile is my goal

If I can flee without leaving a track

I'm clean

No heart wrenching walk down the isle or lane

No dust on my shoes, no possibility of stumbling

Grace at all cost

Empowerment through elevation

If I must leave my human plane to attain this, so be it

Give up my natural rights, such is life

But yet, if I lose my bonds to earth

What did the leaving gain me?

I arise, to appear better

As a result, I appear not at all

Who to Ask

April 14

Who to Ask

“You ask good questions and you ask the right people,” said my sponsor.

“I ask questions because I need answers,” my reply.

“Do you know how many people need answers and never ask?” she quipped.

“I ask my friends, no stroke of genius there,” I continue.

“You ask your playmates, you ask the people you trust enough to have fun with.  You don’t realize how clever that is.  You know lots of folks who work hard and you could ask your questions of these, but instead you save them for those diligent ones who still know how to play and that, Sweetie Pie is proof that you are no dummy.”

You may mute your horn, but don’t soap your bow

*

CRUMPLED PETALS IN MY POCKET

I can't bring back the bloom

Cohesion, lost ripeness

Is left only to memory

I carry home the parts

Folded, petite, fragrant bedding

For my wistful desires

I put these colored remnants into a jar of salt

I make an aromatic rub

For the sweetest wounds

Transforming the parts to useful duty

Doesn't restore the flower

It doesn't pay tribute to the past, it is survival

I have a mind filled with roses but I must make hay

Today I live, today the rose is dead

Its pieces in my pocket

I don't die with the blossom

Though my head blows in the wind

The rose runs its course, I run mine.

Neither Frog nor Fish

April 13

Neither Frog nor Fish

I was falling and my Higher Power caught me in a net called AA, all of which was a pretty neat trick, but the strangest consequence of this is now I somehow think it shouldn’t be possible for me to drown.  Defying gravity 24 hours at a time doesn’t make me aquatic or even amphibious for that matter.  I still have all the corollary restrictions of anyone who is me.  I still need sleep and water, food and warmth just like a mere mortal.  How silly I am.  I dodge a bullet and suddenly I think I am waterproof.    

Don’t exchange your trinkets for your tools

*

WHAMMO

I have been hopping on one foot

With a ball of hope shoved under one arm

And a ball of hysteria under the other

I wish I could tell from the outside of the ball

Which one is hope- I worry I will put down the wrong one

So I hold onto both

My life is sorely limited by the baggage

And I fear I am losing life with every hop

A lack of information is my problem

I don't adequately know the properties of either

And suspect my every interpretation

Finally I stand before my sponsor

To ask the question of my life-  That's easy Honey

Hope is the one that bounces back

Is all she had to say

My Experiences with Tennis

April 12

My Experiences with Tennis

I have held the racket, I have hit the ball, but I have never played with a partner.  I have slammed the fuzzy orb against the wall for long years now, but I have never had a mate.  There were times when I had opponents; yes I’ve had a couple of those, a collaborator though, that I have never had.  I have learned to overcome opposition either through wile or guile.  Slugged my way toward some inevitable outcome, I never expected you on my court.  The game we play is for keeps and the muscles required I have never used, I ache from the pain of ending an atrophy imposed on me by isolation and misunderstanding.  Often I don’t know how to stand, don’t know how to act; don’t know how to be the equal to your service.  I play chase, running after the thing I didn’t see and only faintly felt.  I have come to the place where I know, you and I are a team; you will not be leaving looking for someone better equipped or with greater experience.  It is time for me to lay out in front of you my host of tendencies and inclinations. I’m in the habit of overwhelming with my strength to hide my weakness; I must expose this all to you, the strength and the weakness, and work together for the resolution. I will no longer pretend that I know what is right and wrong in this un-played game.  I fear that I will lose the old game by making this change, all that is familiar put up for grabs to the uncertain outcome of paired sports.  All I truly know is that with you by my side I can never lose and I will learn to do whatever it takes to be your wife.

                                     

Dream with an open mind

*

SOLIDITY

Apprehension stands in the archaeological site

Which is my life -----listening

Listening for the rumble of a cement truck to come

And help solidify the shifting and tenuous nature of my existence

A wet and sloppy solution

A solution to be raked and smoothed, covered and cured

Something to build a monument on

Or a place to park my car

The nearby grass looks lush and green

But I dare not leave apprehension alone or it spreads

I stand with it on bad days

And against it on good ones

I pray for the mixer to arrive

Or at least the gravel spreader

I need to fill this hole so it can be a life

And stop being a grave.

The Key You See

April 11

The Key You See

The key you see is letting you, accept me.  Oh, how I hide from that, run from that, flee from that.  I must be in control of what you think of me.  I curtain off the view of me I don’t wish to share with you.  Add to that the unusual choices of what I hide.  I will strip down with all the lights blazing long before I would let you see me drop the ball, be confused, misunderstand.  What I truly fail to realize is that in the process of trying to hide my faux pas and fumbles; what I show you is my controlling ass.  Backside bare I moon you with my freak show trying to hide my humanity. Your compassion and tolerant waiting for me to calm down and open my eyes is the key I fail to see about you.

Learn the difference between area and circumference

*

RANK

I took an area level service position

And my sponsor laughed herself off her chair

What is your motivation for this?  she asked

I want to move up through the service structure, my reply

Are you trying to make rank?

Problem with that? I ask

Ever heard of self-fulfilling prophecy

You will become what you desire

You will become rank

And you will stink

The triangle is inverted to help you clean up your act

Don’t get washed away in a tide of ego

I put down my swim fins

And removed my epilates

Stumbling Under the Tenth Step

April 10

Stumbling Under the Tenth Step

When I’ve been outside of my mind it is so hard to tell when I’ve come home again.  The landmarks take on such distortion in memory that the facts seem bloated or anorexic as I turn my face from side to side.  Old journals remind me of old journeys and perhaps there are accurate landmarks mentioned, but how can I know for sure that these too are not just the ravings of a mind gone mad.  Real or imagined I must take the daily count and try to keep the score in favor of the actual.  I don’t always know that I’ve fallen until I inventory the dirt on my face, but better that I face the dirt than live the delusion of a mole.

Notice the shape of your fixtures

*

DROWNING NAKED

Bare & Exposed

I laid myself on the alter

Of my home group

AA, my only Source

I emptied the contents of my soul

And bore the mantle of overexposure

But vultures lurked in many rooms

I was safely guided by persons of my gender

To more secluded and effective place of transmission

I thrust myself into the arms and mind of my sponsor

She escorts me to the steps with the door closed

And taught me how and when it could be prudently opened

AA is a power greater than me, so is the ocean

Precaution needs to be taken when wading in

Care must be exercised as to how much to bare.

Up and Down: Round and Round

April 9

Up and Down: Round and Round

Like the wheel on my spinning wheel I pump up and down on the treadle and the wheel spins round and round, the roving twists in my hand and yarn is made.  Really all I do is tap my foot and gently hold on, pulling occasionally. It is a small part I play in this production at least it feels small almost unnecessary, but with a clear mind I see that without me it doesn’t get done.  I am essential yet still just a foot-tapper and hanger-on neither of these is prestigious yet the whole fabric depends on my mundane actions.  I take great comfort knowing that all over there are foot-tappers and hangers-on keeping safe this way of life, sometimes keeping it safe just through sheer repetition. And if you ask, “Is that Unity or Recovery or Service?”  All I can say is “Yes it is.”

                    

Powder your bottom line

*

CLAW MARKS

There is a brackish River

Whose current changes directions twice a day

Its bed is well washed on every side.

It begs the question-

Which way is down hill?

There are times I struggle up hill in both directions

There are times I slip from every slope

What is up is often down

Judgment of topography requires distance

Scaling the surface takes tenacity

I plan on leaving my mark as I go

Life's residue staining my finger tips.

Out on Your Front Porch

April 8

Out on Your Front Porch

“If you want what we have,” said my sponsor, “you will have to follow somebody and lead somebody and do a few other things.”

“I have to follow somebody, that shouldn’t be too hard,” I mumble.

“In order to follow it helps if you stop looking at the ground, lift you gaze,” her retort. I raise my chin until I meet her eyes.  “Better,” says she. 

“I follow you?” I ask.

“Me, yes, if I have what you want, follow others if I don’t,” she says.

“Okay and lead somebody, how do I do that?” I ask.

“It’s attraction, Sweetie, be attractive, show your smile and your smarts, but most of all show that you’re sober, because that is always your best asset.  And no matter what anybody tells you about the allure of bad girls, nobody can resist a good set of assets”

Don’t let the rush of the river scare you from the bank

*

WHAT IS PAST

The past cannot hold me in a loving embrace    
I run too often looking for affection and recognition
In things long dead and purportedly buried

I return to the ghoulish obsession of digging up
Old hates and sorrows longing for support
And finding only the cause of the ulcers in my soul

I wallpaper the crumbling facade
Not wanting to cover it up but to hold it together
Trying to unify something which is totally scattered

When I view it with a sober eye
The past is nothing but a slideshow
Under a strobe light

The pulse triggers the impulsive belief that it was all real
When in truth it was the lie I survived
No life existed in the past

Only now is there air to breathe
The past is all vacuum
And I don't need to be sucked away

Two Things that Should be One

April 7

Two Things That Should Be One

The difference between my will and G-d’s will is that G-d actually likes me all the time, never looks to punish and would rather that I don’t settle for less then what is best for me.

The difference between G-d’s will and my will is left to my own devices I would run in a perpetual circle and dig a trough.  I would never ask for help and would refuse if it were offered.  I would take on misguidedness as a mantle and wear it to my wake.

Often my will and G-d’s will are miles apart, but they needn’t be.  G-d is the president of my fan club; I just need to start attending the meetings.

Make music in your head that you can feel in your whole body

*

WHIP

I have been to the meeting where the play 'whip'
The meeting where the members are gotten in line
The tempo increases constantly in an attempt
To flick each other off into the land of shame and slips and less-than

This game is invisible to the participants
Though the stress on their bodies is surely felt
Spectators often misunderstand the meaning of the activity
And wrongly interpret it as strength training and endurance building

I think of it as a backward step
Throwing me to my initial desire for a drink
Living other peoples skewed lines
Sent me running for a bottle

The same lines
Placed around me in sobriety
Will measure me up for a box

Fearing Fearlessness

April 6

Fearing Fearlessness

How many times have I given the credit to night blind fear, credit due the brave persistent child?  How many times have I blamed the willing diligent pursuer when the fault was the backstabbing delay of mistrust?  I resist the onset of freedom.  Fear was my oldest familiar and I put from my mind that it was my jailer, captor; kidnapped me from my cradle and kept me locked from G-d’s fine intentions.  Fearlessness sounds debilitating to my crippled ears, organs who hear well the disclaimers and are deaf to the claims.  I am the producer of bile and addicted to dread, endorphins wear white hats and win the day once this yellow belly is put to bed.

Allow yourself distance from uncomfortable people

*

BIRDS AND BEES

Birds and Bees can get me drunk
I have to watch the amount of  envy
Which pours through me as I watch their bliss

When others make a beeline to the hive
I must head to a meeting and save myself despair
If my spiritual condition is not sound

When other couples are weaving their nests
I have to be careful
Not to weave my way back to the bar

The mating dance is so sweet and seductive
I have to make sure
I don't end up doing the two step

For as much as I hate to admit it
If steps one and twelve where enough to keep me sober
The rest would not have needed to be written

Please Sir

April 5

Please Sir

Gratitude is a thing which collects and solidifies, it’s pink and I can walk around on it.  Some days it is a broad highway and other times a winding spindling track.  Ever present if I am mindful, gratitude roots out pests and pestilence while planting a garden beyond my dreams.  Gratitude is like handholding; it warms and strengthens me, keeps me connected to real life and reassures me that I am not alone.  Many days I find a way to make a face and pout, plundering the rich rewards of sobriety for the thin gruel of discontent, poke me with a stick on these days and remind me who I am, for I am never Oliver even if I feel a little twist.

Rest between great ideas

*

FEELING TEMPLES

I failed to appreciate the initial onslaught of feelings
I spent much time trying to capture them
Lock them away or in some other way submarine them

This only had the effect of retarding my recovery
I had to reframe my thinking
I had to start with simple calisthenics, embrace and celebrate

As my emotional health began to take shape
I started the foundations for tiny shrines
Each with its own theme

Happiness had a party going on until all hours
With grief there seemed to be a constant internment in progress
Body or no

Fear showed on IMAX film
Of the realities of life on earth
Curiosity had an endless library plus a DSL line

Making myself a willing and frequent visitor
To these contrasting places
Created in me wholeness and peace

Never again do I have to trudge
The two dimensional desert
Of my monochromatic former life