Live Bait

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.

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/qnr7COwlqqU

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

Trojan Person

May 25

TROJAN PERSON

I feel confused by the difference between love and war.  The intensity and rush are too much for my frazzled and betrayed emotions to sort out.  I feel like a Trojan person.  I have all these children holed up inside and they are waiting for peace and safety so they can come out and sleep.  For a time I allowed them to leave for bathroom breaks, one at a time. This was not a workable solution.  When these tykes would have a look around, they started to set fires and break hearts.  Each child makes life a battleground, fights and claws her way across the living landscape.  I must heal my insides from the center of my thoughts, not send fragments of me to blend with the unfamiliar and hostile world.  Only when I can stand together with my mind and heart safe within my being will I see a way to make love on my own and leave war alone.

Shuffle your vocabulary.

*

ROUSs

Time passes, I clock it and count it

and use its passage to construct a defense

or accusation depending on my need.

I use the calendar to condemn you

because my feelings do not have sufficient leverage

for my mental calculations.

To prize disappointment from this scene

I watch the water-clock waiting for adequate drops

to lift the flood gate and free me

from your unfulfilled promise and my unrealized hope.

How long is too long to stand in a quagmire?

Why do I feel the need for permission

to leave the quicksand?