Kicks

September 29

Kicks

New balance is more than a brand of sneakers.  New balance is a joyful revelation made possible through constant vigilance.  I am tap dancing into a vision, no more soft shoed wishfulness.  I can lift my feet knowing I can keep my up right posture; my musculature robust from climbing the steps and accepting direction.  This bright tempo delights me; I feel stretched, supple, able bodied.  Life off the balance beam offers me the world in which to embrace my equilibrium. 

Pick up your toys, pick up your chin and move on

*

CATCH

How can my sensibility catch my intellect

Or find a map with enough information

To get my heart to the current location of my mind?

What are the common markers recognized by soul and brain?

I know the pulse of my wrist

Is counter pointing the firing of my synapses.

My life signs run their course

And I struggle to find the intersections

I long for more than signposts and curbing.

I would like parallels, paradigms and conclusions

There must be a place of common home and hearth.

I am looking for the depot of my life

I hope I hit it before I hit the coast.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Bad Acting

March 16

Bad Acting

Because there never seems to be enough love in the world to fill the wound, my wounded self riots.  At times the debauchery seems good natured enough, flamboyant yet without harm, at other times the disturbance is apparently violent and the issuing tumult a crime.  All for want of wholeness and sanity I pursue shattered fractured activity just to keep from dwelling where I cannot live, where there is no air.  I want land beneath my feet and full, full lungs; on my own I find neither of these and little else of use.  Isolation even in a crowd is the tell tale sign that I am in the, me, myself and I mode of drowning in a teacup and require rescue. Little more than raising my hand above the surface and asking for help is needed though this is a Herculean effort as we all know.  Rowing up stream is a bigger battle then it ever looks and I know the river runs through me.

Turn, turn, turn then rest

*

UNNECESSARY WORDS

I've spent years trying to put names on the streets in my 12 th step map post.
Clear signs with monikers easy to remember, themed and progressive
But I have been wasting my time, the map is there, no doubt.

I have seen people follow it to varying degrees.
The names are unnecessary, like ants, we trail each others scent.
We track so closely as not to loose visual contact, we don't play with our survival.

Or we are bees standing in front of the meeting
Doing the dance, which describes the path to sobriety
With meaningful jokes, and well earned tears.

As I stand at the foot of a few twenty-fours
And see the evolution of my recovery
I realize the names in the placards are ever-changing.

Meaning and value pour through the kaleidoscope of time
And come out as indescribable gifts, Which I can only give through action.
I will no longer fritter away my time looking for tags and titles

Pirouettes

September 27

PIROUETTES

I turn and spin; the world flashes as I go.  I am erect, proud of my self-possession.  I can stand the forces of vector rotation, public opinion and gravity.  Sobriety has made a dancer out of me.  I sprint the stage and take my place.  I know the moves and trust, as best I can, the choreographer and the choreography.  I feel the wind move on my body as I revolve, the blur of existence spreads out before me.  I can let it all pass.  To spot myself and keep my upright posture, the only place that requires my clear and unobstructed view is the line of sight from my sponsor’s eyes to mine.

Let your work speak.

*

A Verse to the Wise

Encoding truth into poetry

makes reality survivable by giving readers

the opportunity to dig truth up like diamonds.

Throwing certainty in people’s faces like cold water

gives them a wakeup call but nothing to embrace.

The beauty of semaphore is the dance

that need not be understood by everyone who sees it.

Communication through device

leaves headroom and breathing space

while acceptance might be reached.

The current of a conversation

often leads me to face the facts,

but a tsunami of candor could drown me.

Hold on or Dance

August 21

Hang on or Dance

Because I felt ‘outcomes’ slipping through my fingertips I dug in with my nails, I schemed, plotted, worried, whined. Lack of power was my problem I thought, but what it came down to was, failure to acknowledge… accept… failure to surrender to the reality of powerlessness. The only thing I learned from resistance was an intimate knowledge of futility. When I embraced truth… the facts…when I live with the gravity of masses not fight against it; I began to enjoy the weather, knowing I did not pull the clouds or push the storm. I’m back in the dance of people moving about me, all keeping with the time, it is not mine to keep.

Befriend science

*

CHANNELING

It’s a full feeling to be a channel.

Only an empty feeling when it’s blocked

At the base of my spine

And God can’t go to my head.

The river flows through me and my banks will hold

Excuses dam me up

And leave a dry and lifeless basin

With tributaries taxed for usefulness.

Staying in the groove conveys my Higher Powers will

Without need of my furrowed brow.

A hose with no water running

Is a place for spiders to spin.

If I shut off the service I am a breeding ground

For creeping sadness and shocking misery

Compliance allow me the view

Of flowing strength and rushing joy

The greatest of which is living with intent.

Pirouettes

September 27

PIROUETTES



I turn and spin; the world flashes as I go. I am erect, proud of my self-possession. I can stand the forces of vector rotation, public opinion and gravity. Sobriety has made a dancer out of me. I sprint the stage and take my place. I know the moves and trust, as best I can, the choreographer and the choreography. I feel the wind move on my body as I revolve, the blur of existence spreads out before me. I can let it all pass. To spot myself and keep my upright posture, the only place that requires my clear and unobstructed view is the line of sight from my sponsor’s eyes to mine.


Let your work speak.