Don't Be

August 18

DON’T BE

Don’t be stupid.

Don’t be crazy.

Don’t be anything out of the ordinary.

Don’t be angry.

Don’t be hateful.

Just don’t be that way.

Don’t be sad.

Don’t be mopey.

Smile for the camera.

And pretend for everyone.

I wondered often why I felt like dying and it took me years to understand why.

Don’t be equals death.

Don’t feel.

Don’t cry.

Don’t love.

Life is about action, presence and content.  You’re wrong if you break the rules and dead if you keep them.  So, please be you and don’t be them.  Look back when you have to but step out of the grave.

Learn followership too.

*

Single Serving Sterling

When the menu of life feels vast

I must focus on my teaspoon;

a simple tool that fits well in my hand,

whose use I well understand.

The possibilities conceived

when I ponder the intangibles

conspire to suck me down the rabbit-hole

where all that’s left to me is a drug.

When I come back to stir my tea

and lick the spoon clean

the world revolves around me

and without need of my completed unified theory.

Need looms, loss stacks,

salvation keeps a steady distance,

my only hope is to drink my tea,

I shan’t even sharpen my spoon;

I can and need to stay out of my fear built prison

and off the streets of hell.

My task is at hand and the size of the scoop

is a reminder to take all of life in small doses.

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

Rain

April 1

RAIN

The rain makes shadows of water.  It spills onto the ground like tiny worlds.  What had been airborne and mist is now earthbound and integral, feeding, cutting, learning the world.  Once I contemplated theories and mystery.  Now, washing dishes is a spiritual service.  The view was lovely when I was above it all but now I course through the veins of life.  There may come a time when I am untouchable again but by then I will have been a part of it all.  I will carry the world with me always, an orbiting servant not just above but through.

Engrave compliments in your mind.

*

Clock and Calendar Girl

I depend on the count and measure of time to get me through.

The swing of the pendulum carries me from moment to moment

and the divisions between days are like the rungs on a ladder;

I climb from month to month and age to age.

When I hold my breath I count the tic, tic, tic

till the difficult time passes and I can inhale once more.

Harder things require X’s in their numbered boxes

to help me transverse the larger distance and rockier terrain.

Take away my clock and I go deaf,

remove my calendar and I go blind.

Tools are tools even if they only aid sight and sound.

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

Don't Be

August 18

DON’T BE

Don’t be stupid.

Don’t be crazy.

Don’t be anything out of the ordinary.

Don’t be angry.

Don’t be hateful.

Just don’t be that way.

Don’t be sad.

Don’t be mopey.

Smile for the camera.

And pretend for everyone.

I wondered often why I felt like dying and it took me years to understand why.

Don’t be equals death.

Don’t feel.

Don’t cry.

Don’t love.

Life is about action, presence and content.  You’re wrong if you break the rules and dead if you keep them.  So, please be you and don’t be them.  Look back when you have to but step out of the grave.

Learn followership too.

*

Single Serving Sterling

When the menu of life feels vast

I must focus on my teaspoon;

a simple tool that fits well in my hand,

whose use I well understand.

The possibilities conceived

when I ponder the intangibles

conspire to suck me down the rabbit-hole

where all that’s left to me is a drug.

When I come back to stir my tea

and lick the spoon clean

the world revolves around me

and without need of my completed unified theory.

Need looms, loss stacks,

salvation keeps a steady distance,

my only hope is to drink my tea,

I shan’t even sharpen my spoon;

I can and need to stay out of my fear built prison

and off the streets of hell.

My task is at hand and the size of the scoop

is a reminder to take all of life in small doses.