Battleship

October 13

BATTLESHIP

If the first is a guess, what is the second?  Paranoia? Or worse?  Action is a blessing, reaction a debilitation, and to twist from reaction to self-doubt sinks the battle and the battleship.  When I can’t make sense, the gift is stepping back.  Better to put my hand down than to lose the farm.  When I find myself in a minefield, I can walk gingerly or wait for aide from above, air rescue or other.  The option of rethinking every step sets me dancing; the tune, which begins this hurky jerky polka of death, stems from the metronome of criticism playing in my ear.  When I am overwhelmed with critique I give up acceptance of chance or the joy of spontaneity, throwing myself into a pit of apprehension.  I am safer being wrong occasionally than unsure forever.

Study an old map and find a new way.

*

Message with no Bottle

I found a note while I was cleaning the art cupboard.

It was written in my hand.

I don’t remember writing it, or thinking it for that matter.

The note said,

“Total disregard for the survival of your soul”

and I have no idea if it was a warning or a suggestion;

a place to start or a destination at which not to arrive.

If it was written during one of those dark days

it could be the former,

I hope it is the latter;

a sign post on my recovery road.

I bring it out here to write to you about it,

share it and take me to a place

where I am no longer alone with this flyer.

I sit down to the keyboard

lift the note to read it again with care.

I scan the edges for clues

and see that it is a memo sheet torn in half.

When I flip it, on the back I see,

“2 loaves & 5 fishes to feed a multitude”

and though I may not believe in that miracle

I do believe in this one.

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

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Moniker

September 30

Moniker

The Hurt carry on the tradition, would never think to give it up, don’t even know there is that option, strap on their weapons without a second thought.  How can there be a second thought when there never was a first.  Hurt is a reflex and it moves its way through the world like dominoes tumbling; everything’s knocked down before you ever saw it standing. So, what’s the use anyway? So, I fall down and in that action push you forward and we are all together in the mud, but it is so hard to recognize anyone in the mud, including myself and especially you.  If I hurt you that makes it hard for me to see anything about you except my wish for your departure, which I subconsciously hope will take away the guilt I can’t afford to feel.  If I make it out of the mud I can’t afford anything, but if I don’t pay up I’ll be in new mud soon, so I must break tradition and the first step toward that is seeing it and the second is calling it by its name.       

Open up your secret vault and unload

*

BATTLESHIP

If the first is a guess, what is the second?

Paranoia or worse.?

Action is a blessing, reaction a debilitation

And to twist from reaction to self-doubt

Sinks the battle and the battleship.

When I can’t make sense, the gift is stepping back,

Better to put my hand down than to lose the farm.

When I find myself in a minefield I can walk gingerly

Or wait for aid to come from above, air rescue or other.

The option of rethinking every step sets me dancing

The tune which begins this hurky jerky polka of death which

Stems from the metronome of criticism playing in my ear.

When I am overwhelmed with critique

I give up acceptance of chance or joy of spontaneity

Throwing myself into a pit of apprehension.

I am safer being wrong occasionally

Then unsure forever

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

Battleship

October 13

BATTLESHIP

If the first is a guess, what is the second?  Paranoia? Or worse?  Action is a blessing, reaction a debilitation, and to twist from reaction to self-doubt sinks the battle and the battleship.  When I can’t make sense, the gift is stepping back.  Better to put my hand down than to lose the farm.  When I find myself in a minefield, I can walk gingerly or wait for aide from above, air rescue or other.  The option of rethinking every step sets me dancing; the tune, which begins this hurky jerky polka of death, stems from the metronome of criticism playing in my ear.  When I am overwhelmed with critique I give up acceptance of chance or the joy of spontaneity, throwing myself into a pit of apprehension.  I am safer being wrong occasionally than unsure forever.

Study an old map and find a new way.

*

Message with no Bottle

I found a note while I was cleaning the art cupboard.

It was written in my hand.

I don’t remember writing it, or thinking it for that matter.

The note said,

“Total disregard for the survival of your soul”

and I have no idea if it was a warning or a suggestion;

a place to start or a destination at which not to arrive.

If it was written during one of those dark days

it could be the former,

I hope it is the latter;

a sign post on my recovery road.

I bring it out here to write to you about it,

share it and take me to a place

where I am no longer alone with this flyer.

I sit down to the keyboard

lift the note to read it again with care.

I scan the edges for clues

and see that it is a memo sheet torn in half.

When I flip it, on the back I see,

“2 loaves & 5 fishes to feed a multitude”

and though I may not believe in that miracle

I do believe in this one.