Maniacs on Pogo Sticks

January 3

Maniacs on Pogo Sticks

I fear maniacs on pogo sticks peeping through my rural second story windows as the smoke of paranoia curls between my ears.  Overestimating my interest to others causes me as much harm as the underestimation. Attributing super powers to onlookers is a parlor trick my ego plays to keep me occupied while my life passes by.  I sacrifice all my possibilities for fear of what could be stolen through my keyhole.  I cut off my face to spite my poor lonely nose.  I must move forward in spite of my disquietude for the future lay ahead, yet I do console myself that it is harder to hit a moving target.

Use honey to get the peas to stick to your knife

~

DIDN'T KNOW I WAS GOING TO THE CIRCUS

I show up at a meeting
I didn't know the circus was in town
I expected calm, demure, sober behavior
My expectations were dashed, my bubble burst.

There were people streaming back and forth in front of the speaker
There were kids playing among the chairs
Smokers worked the meeting in shifts
Hustling out the back door and smoldering back in.

The side conversations rivaled the main attraction
People dressed for the street not the meeting, the bibby shirt, tights and no skirt
Was more of a high-wire act then I had ever seen before
Shock cannot even begin to describe the state of my mind.

"But for the grace of God" said my sponsor
"No" I said "It's a choice, they're sober now."
"Oh yes" she remarked "Weren't you sober when you took on
Every man with time, looking for a fight with each of them?"

"I was cutting my chops. They understood."
"Some of them didn't." said she
"Weren't you sober when you dyed your hair red - but only half?"
" I was afraid I'd dye my scalp, so I started lower."

"Yes, but aren't you the one who says sudden hair color change
Is a sign of instability in sobriety?"
"Yes, I do." I replied
"I think you would have fit in well with the circus.
You and your two tone hair but you didn't hear it from me."
"You're mean."
"And what are you being?"
"Judgmental."

"That's my girl, what are we going to do about it?"
"Be grateful, grateful I got in quick enough
Grateful people let me work things out in these rooms.
Grateful I still have something to learn from everyone. GRATEFUL."

Vlog: http://youtu.be/WLX_uTL2hao

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

Harvest Timing

September 9

HARVEST TIMING

The harvest fits in the growing season and the oak fits inside the acorn.  My sober mind fits right in my sober time.  The soul of everything rubs across the hind leg of a cricket to sing.  The infinite machinery of the universe spins but you stand there questioning the existence of a Higher Power.  Well, that’s who you are, but I have only one question for you.  Who else could have made all the best tomatoes come from Jersey?

Catch rain on your face.

*

Barnum, Bailey & Me

When I wake to find a whip and a chair by the side of my bed

I know I am in for a circus of a day

and the tears of this clown will not change a thing.

I ready myself for the tightrope walk

and watch out for stray elephants.

All the trained poodles in the world

can’t make this into a day in the park.

Painted ponies prance through their paces;

I try to stick to my own act,

meanwhile remembering that no matter how difficult

these routines may be it still beats a seat in the stands.

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

I didn't know I was going to the circus

January 3

I DIDN’T KNOW I WAS GOING TO THE CIRCUS

I show up at a meeting.  I didn’t know the circus was in town.  I expected calm, demure, sober behavior.  My expectations were dashed, my bubble burst.  There were people streaming back and forth in front of the speaker; there were kids playing among the chairs.  Smokers worked the meeting in shifts, hustling out the back door and smoldering back in. The side conversations rivaled the main attraction.  People dressed for the street not for the meeting.  The 'bippy shirt, tights, and no skirt' was more of a high wire act than I had ever seen before.  Shock cannot even begin to describe the state of my mind.

“But for the grace of God,” said my sponsor. 

“No,” I said. “It’s a choice, they’re sober now.”  

“Oh, yes,” she remarked.

“Weren’t you sober when you took on every man with time, looking for a fight with each of them?”

“I was cutting my chops.  They understood.” 

“Some of them didn’t,” said she.   “Weren’t you sober when you dyed your hair red, but only half?”

“I was afraid I’d dye my scalp, so I started lower.” 

“Yes, but aren’t you the one who says sudden hair color change is a sign of instability in your sobriety?”

“Yes, I do,” I replied.

“I think you would have fit well with the circus, you and your two-tone hair, but you didn’t hear it from me.” 

“You’re being mean.” 

“And what are you being?”

“Judgmental.”

“That’s my girl!  What are you going to do about it?”

“Be grateful.  Grateful I got in quick enough, grateful people let me work things out in the rooms, and grateful I still have something to learn from everyone.”

“Kiss up.”

“That’s me.”

Hold a rock in your hand until you warm it

*

Maniacs on Pogo Sticks

I fear maniacs on pogo sticks peeping through

my rural second story windows

as the smoke of paranoia curls between my ears.

Overestimating my interest to others

causes me as much harm as the underestimation.

Attributing super powers to onlookers

is a parlor trick my ego plays

to keep me occupied while my life passes by.

I sacrifice all my possibilities for fear

of what could be stolen through my keyhole.

I cut off my face to spite my poor lonely nose.

I must move forward in spite of my disquietude

for the future lay ahead, yet I do console myself

that it is harder to hit a moving target.

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

Barnum Bailey & Me

September 9

Barnum, Bailey & Me

When I wake to find a whip and a chair by the side of my bed I know I am in for a circus of a day and the tears of this clown will not change a thing.  I ready myself for the tightrope walk and watch out for stray elephants.  All the trained poodles in the world can’t make this into a day in the park.  Painted ponies prance through their paces; I try to stick to my own act, meanwhile remembering that no matter how difficult these routines may be it still beats a seat in the stands.

Raffle off the surplus grit from your nitty gritty

*

MEGAPHONE

The point of surviving

Or maybe the goal after survival

Is enabling the voices of victims to be heard

Starting with my own.

I allow the surging waves of thought and feelings

To rush the gates and exit

I try to bleed the bad

With and without the use of leaches.

So much is stumbled upon rather than sought after,

Some things hound me, I run down the street

With memory at my heels

I must let the screams out or become them.

Today I talk, tomorrow is for others.

When I pour forth I open the way for the rest

I have become the megaphone

Rather than the cheerleader

It is good to be of use.

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

Manics on Pogo Sticks

January 3

Maniacs on Pogo Sticks

I fear maniacs on pogo sticks peeping through my rural second story windows as the smoke of paranoia curls between my ears.  Overestimating my interest to others causes me as much harm as the underestimation. Attributing super powers to onlookers is a parlor trick my ego plays to keep me occupied while my life passes by.  I sacrifice all my possibilities for fear of what could be stolen through my keyhole.  I cut off my face to spite my poor lonely nose.  I must move forward in spite of my disquietude for the future lay ahead, yet I do console myself that it is harder to hit a moving target.

Use honey to get the peas to stick to your knife

~

DIDN'T KNOW I WAS GOING TO THE CIRCUS

I show up at a meeting
I didn't know the circus was in town
I expected calm, demure, sober behavior
My expectations were dashed, my bubble burst.

There were people streaming back and forth in front of the speaker
There were kids playing among the chairs
Smokers worked the meeting in shifts
Hustling out the back door and smoldering back in.

The side conversations rivaled the main attraction
People dressed for the street not the meeting, the bibby shirt, tights and no skirt
Was more of a high-wire act then I had ever seen before
Shock cannot even begin to describe the state of my mind.

"But for the grace of God" said my sponsor
"No" I said "It's a choice, they're sober now."
"Oh yes" she remarked "Weren't you sober when you took on
Every man with time, looking for a fight with each of them?"

"I was cutting my chops. They understood."
"Some of them didn't." said she
"Weren't you sober when you dyed your hair red - but only half?"
" I was afraid I'd dye my scalp, so I started lower."

"Yes, but aren't you the one who says sudden hair color change
Is a sign of instability in sobriety?"
"Yes, I do." I replied
"I think you would have fit in well with the circus.
You and your two tone hair but you didn't hear it from me."
"You're mean."
"And what are you being?"
"Judgmental."

"That's my girl, what are we going to do about it?"
"Be grateful, grateful I got in quick enough
Grateful people let me work things out in these rooms.
Grateful I still have something to learn from everyone. GRATEFUL."

Harvest Timing

September 9

HARVEST TIMING

The harvest fits in the growing season and the oak fits inside the acorn.  My sober mind fits right in my sober time.  The soul of everything rubs across the hind leg of a cricket to sing.  The infinite machinery of the universe spins but you stand there questioning the existence of a Higher Power.  Well, that’s who you are, but I have only one question for you.  Who else could have made all the best tomatoes come from Jersey?

Catch rain on your face.

*

Barnum, Bailey & Me

When I wake to find a whip and a chair by the side of my bed

I know I am in for a circus of a day

and the tears of this clown will not change a thing.

I ready myself for the tightrope walk

and watch out for stray elephants.

All the trained poodles in the world

can’t make this into a day in the park.

Painted ponies prance through their paces;

I try to stick to my own act,

meanwhile remembering that no matter how difficult

these routines may be it still beats a seat in the stands.

I didn't Know I was going to the Circus

January 3

I DIDN’T KNOW I WAS GOING TO THE CIRCUS

I show up at a meeting. I didn’t know the circus was in town. I expected calm, demure, sober behavior. My expectations were dashed, my bubble burst. There were people streaming back and forth in front of the speaker; there were kids playing among the chairs. Smokers worked the meeting in shifts, hustling out the back door and smoldering back in. The side conversations rivaled the main attraction. People dressed for the street not for the meeting. The 'bippy shirt, tights, and no skirt' was more of a high wire act than I had ever seen before. Shock cannot even begin to describe the state of my mind.

“But for the grace of God,” said my sponsor.

“No,” I said. “It’s a choice, they’re sober now.”

“Oh, yes,” she remarked.

“Weren’t you sober when you took on every man with time, looking for a fight with each of them?”

“I was cutting my chops. They understood.”

“Some of them didn’t,” said she. “Weren’t you sober when you dyed your hair red, but only half?”

“I was afraid I’d dye my scalp, so I started lower.”

“Yes, but aren’t you the one who says sudden hair color change is a sign of instability in your sobriety?”

“Yes, I do,” I replied.

“I think you would have fit well with the circus, you and your two-tone hair, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

“You’re being mean.”

“And what are you being?”

“Judgmental.”

“That’s my girl! What are you going to do about it?”

“Be grateful. Grateful I got in quick enough, grateful people let me work things out in the rooms, and grateful I still have something to learn from everyone.”

“Kiss up.”

“That’s me.”

Hold a rock in your hand until you warm it

*

Maniacs on Pogo Sticks

I fear maniacs on pogo sticks peeping through

my rural second story windows

as the smoke of paranoia curls between my ears.

Overestimating my interest to others

causes me as much harm as the underestimation.

Attributing super powers to onlookers

is a parlor trick my ego plays

to keep me occupied while my life passes by.

I sacrifice all my possibilities for fear

of what could be stolen through my keyhole.

I cut off my face to spite my poor lonely nose.

I must move forward in spite of my disquietude

for the future lay ahead, yet I do console myself

that it is harder to hit a moving target.

Barnum, Bailey & Me

September 9

Barnum, Bailey & Me

When I wake to find a whip and a chair by the side of my bed I know I am in for a circus of a day and the tears of this clown will not change a thing. I ready myself for the tightrope walk and watch out for stray elephants. All the trained poodles in the world can’t make this into a day in the park. Painted ponies prance through their paces; I try to stick to my own act, meanwhile remembering that no matter how difficult these routines may be it still beats a seat in the stands.

Raffle off the surplus grit from your nitty gritty

*

MEGAPHONE

The point of surviving

Or maybe the goal after survival

Is enabling the voices of victims to be heard

Starting with my own.

I allow the surging waves of thought and feelings

To rush the gates and exit

I try to bleed the bad

With and without the use of leaches.

So much is stumbled upon rather than sought after,

Some things hound me, I run down the street

With memory at my heels

I must let the screams out or become them.

Today I talk, tomorrow is for others.

When I pour forth I open the way for the rest

I have become the megaphone

Rather than the cheerleader

It is good to be of use.

Maniacs on Pogo Sticks

January 3

Maniacs on Pogo Sticks

I fear maniacs on pogo sticks peeping through my rural second story windows as the smoke of paranoia curls between my ears. Overestimating my interest to others causes me as much harm as the underestimation. Attributing super powers to onlookers is a parlor trick my ego plays to keep me occupied while my life passes by. I sacrifice all my possibilities for fear of what could be stolen through my keyhole. I cut off my face to spite my poor lonely nose. I must move forward in spite of my disquietude for the future lay ahead, yet I do console myself that it is harder to hit a moving target.

Use honey to get the peas to stick to your knife

~

DIDN'T KNOW I WAS GOING TO THE CIRCUS

I show up at a meeting
I didn't know the circus was in town
I expected calm, demure, sober behavior
My expectations were dashed, my bubble burst.

There were people streaming back and forth in front of the speaker
There were kids playing among the chairs
Smokers worked the meeting in shifts
Hustling out the back door and smoldering back in.

The side conversations rivaled the main attraction
People dressed for the street not the meeting, the bibby shirt, tights and no shirt
Was more of a high-wire act then I had ever seen before
Shock cannot even begin to describe the state of my mind.

"But for the grace of God" said my sponsor
"No" I said "It's a choice, they're sober now."
"Oh yes" she remarked "Weren't you sober when you took on
Every man with time, looking for a fight with each of them?"

"I was cutting my chops. They understood."
"Some of them didn't." said she
"Weren't you sober when you dyed your hair red - but only half?"
" I was afraid I'd dye my scalp, so I started lower."

"Yes, but aren't you the one who says sudden hair color change
Is a sign of instability in sobriety?"
"Yes, I do." I replied
"I think you would have fit in well with the circus."

"You and your two tone hair but you didn't hear it from me."
"You're mean."
"And what are you being?"
"Judgmental."

"That's my girl, what are we going to do about it?"
"Be grateful, grateful I got in quick enough"
"Grateful people let me work things out in these rooms."
"Grateful I still have something to learn from everyone. GRATEFUL."

Barnum, Bailey & Me

September 9

Barnum, Bailey & Me

When I wake to find a whip and a chair by the side of my bed I know I am in for a circus of a day and the tears of this clown will not change a thing. I ready myself for the tightrope walk and watch out for stray elephants. All the trained poodles in the world can’t make this into a day in the park. Painted ponies prance through their paces; I try to stick to my own act, meanwhile remembering that no matter how difficult these routines may be it still beats a seat in the stands.

Raffle off the surplus grit from your nitty gritty

*

MEGAPHONE

The point of surviving

Or maybe the goal after survival

Is enabling the voices of victims to be heard

Starting with my own.

I allow the surging waves of thought and feelings

To rush the gates and exit

I try to bleed the bad

With and without the use of leaches.

So much is stumbled upon rather than sought after,

Some things hound me, I run down the street

With memory at my heels

I must let the screams out or become them.

Today I talk, tomorrow is for others.

When I pour forth I open the way for the rest

I have become the megaphone

Rather than the cheerleader

It is good to be of use.