Almost Twins

December 19

 

ALMOST TWINS

 

 

You and I are more alike than different yet we cannot get along, though I ponder why this surprises me so.  A cloud and a watermelon are 98% the same and no one would mistake them in a crowd or expect them to be companionable except in the way of two things existing in the universe.  My expectation of liking you for our similarities is set up by my fear that I don’t like myself, but the joke is on me.  My dislike of you is not a reflection of anything but time and space.  My friends are the people who like me, not necessarily the ones who are like me.  The president didn’t like broccoli without slurring its good name and I can dislike you without inferring you’re a vegetable.

 

 

Enjoy the approach as well as the work.

*

 

Scalene

 

 

Strangeness is attracting, I don’t try to deny it.

I have looked longingly at oddness

and every skewed thing.

 

Though I try to divert my gaze the acute angles

draw me back to peer again and again.

Strange attractors have an unexplainable beauty to me.

 

The wane charisma digs its hooks into my soul

and I carry it off like a burr stuck to my hide.

What does this say of me, I am not sure?

 

What does it say of the sidelong loves of mine?

Volumes, I think it speaks volumes,

all of it unknown to me.

 

Vlog: http://youtu.be/-O2YEH4nyRk

 

 

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

Posted in 12 step recovery, Affirmation, Alcoholics Anonymous, Hope, Humor, Poetry, Wisdom | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Water Proof

December 18

 

WATER PROOF

 

 

What could water prove anyway?  I get in the water and I get wet.  I’m sure there is a theorem but a proof is highly doubtful.  Naiads dance with tridents in their hands illustrating the beauty and danger of the waves but this certifies nothing.  Juiceless arid dirt can make no claims either.  I see the ducks take flight pushing the air with their wings and the rivulets trailing from webs.  This is the thing to scoot beneath at the surface, take sustenance and pleasure, but never to become so saturated that the air is lost.  Waterproof… is the way to go.

 

 

Give preconceived notions a place on the shelf or in the can but no place in your life.

*

 

 

 

Lame

 

I easily identify the big mistakes of my life,

but fail to recognize or report the little mistakes

that I make, mistakes, which cost me so much.

 

Repetitive irresponsibility has the effect of water torture;

drip, drip, drip and my peace of mind is worn away.

What can I say of what I refuse to see?

 

It was there all along like the view covered by the shade.

Who is to blame for not raising the curtain?

It may be me, may not, but I am the one who suffers,

I am the one who misses out.

 

Missing the opportunity to grow out of these

small deficiencies leaves me with a lifelong handicap

and I am not just speaking of my blindness,

but also how they make me lame.

 

 

Vlog: http://youtu.be/qcBxKOeyusw

 

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

Posted in 12 step recovery, Alcoholics Anonymous, Hope, Humor, Poetry, Water, Wisdom | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Popcorn Flavored Lollipop

December 17

 

POPCORN FLAVORED LOLLIPOP

 

 

I can’t know it.  I can’t believe it.  The world of popcorn flavored lollipops is now being visited upon me.  Both a surprise and a comfort, a popcorn flavored lollipop is given to me by the gas station attendant.  A blast of sugar and salt waken my tongue.  What can a mind do in the face of a buttered, salted bonbon on a stick?  I wouldn’t have thought of it, not in a million years.  This is somehow a source of hope to me.  There are open-minded people living in the world around me.  I often pray for creative thinking on the part of my Higher Power; I inadvertently dismiss the populace who is producing prodigies of ingenious originality and cunning.  I want the world to be gifted with what sobriety has given me.  Candy is not world peace but many great things start with a little sweetness.

 

 

Real rules can’t be broken.

*

 

 

 

Not My Best Friend

 

No matter how tightly I hug a lump of coal

I will not prevail in turning it into a diamond.

Some days I accept this better than others.

 

My desire may affect the coal,

but this affect is not diamond producing;

though it is stress producing.

 

I know it stresses me and chills me to the bone.

I had thought of coal as warming,

but the disparate love of coal proves to be anything but.

 

I have pinned my hopes

on what this lump had the potential to become

rather than acceptance of what it is and now.

 

I see I must light my own fire

and know the coal is not mine.

 

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/KujCorrb7d4

 

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

Posted in 12 step recovery, Affirmation, Alcoholics Anonymous, Hope, Humor, Poetry, Wisdom | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Good Samaritan Pie

December 16

 

GOOD SAMARITAN PIE

 

 

The meal prepared from my cognition, the bread and jam of humility, salad of expectation, roast of determination and Good Samaritan pie, wait on the table to be devoured.  The courses pass and come dessert my kindly intentions are cut to wedges and pushed from setting to setting.  I can, with dollop after dollop, cover the requisite desires of this tart in an attempt to deny my addiction to fixing or I can serve up the plain truth.  I help and help and wander down roads looking for lost puppies to return to their homes.  I must admit my longing to lend support is sometimes half-baked, and if kept to home and hearth it might serve me better and make a sweeter dish.  Assistance is best in proportion to the meal.  I must live my life and save my pie till last.

 

 

Hold each other’s hands but explore.

*

Touch Your Toes

 

 

Funny how we deal with feet.

I have seen a woman cradle hers

and treat it like the dearest babe.

 

I know some folks who shun their feet;

can barely stand to think of them,

let alone to touch them.

 

There are the Mani-Pedi people

who leave it in the hands of others.

I met a guy who soaks them soft

and tucks little bits of cotton

under the corners of his nails.

 

I know too,

the woman with the snarling crusty dogs

that serve to others as a warning.

 

My grandma warns me

not complain about my shoes

lest I meet the man who has no feet,

but I doubt I would fit in his.

 

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/7eUgwQQ5ZPI

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

Posted in 12 step recovery, aa, Affirmation, Hope, Humor, Poetry, Wisdom | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Goose

December 15

 

GOOSE

 

 

I round this corner nearly every day.  There in the field stands a flock of problems pecking the ground and flapping their wings.  Uniform and regular, the honking and squawking is undistinguishable from yesterday.  I ponder and squint; are these the same or yet another gaggle making their way along a migratory path?  Trouble is feral, skulking the edges of the field but never sheltering in the yard.  I must leave my hands off, knowing these are not mine.  The feathers fly and I gather the strays acutely aware of the ticklish nature of this.  Awkwardly I face the truth, no matter how much of a perplexity this is to me or to others, it is only geese.

 

 

Run because you want to and the starter’s whistle won’t bother you.

*

 

 

Crazy Time

 

 

Picking the right time to be crazy

seems to be the key to getting away with it.

Wanting to get away with it slants the field a tad.

 

What crazy is, changes from place to place,

which puts all the more emphasis on the timing.

The surrounding company and barometric pressure,

play parts and put on airs.

 

Lighting, lighting must also be involved,

I assure you I don’t know how

and can’t calculate the Ohms,

but I flip the switches in case it helps.

 

I have mapped for you a fair amount more than I know.

I wish you well on your attempt,

for crazy is a kindred club,

I would hate for you to feel inept.

 

 

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/hbmrf8CaJnE

 

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

Posted in crazy, Humor, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Do We See

December 14

 

DO WE SEE

 

 

 

The old man walked down the road to see the end; I followed to glimpse the fruit of his pursuit.  Does the highway come to rest or like the river just feed a greater sea?  And time; will the clock stop him? Can he win the treasure hunt as the seconds tick away on the metronome?  Will the slowing of his steps and the advancing of his age create a curve, which will prevent his accomplishment?  Does this tag-along I am doing make me a part of his project?  The road is long and its end may never come, only ours.  When we take the road the road takes us.  More and less is what we are and so too the road.  I follow the contour of the ground, which curves around the world, spinning in our sky so we can all see the stars.

 

 

Reality builds contentment, fantasy disappointment.

 

*

 

 

Calm, Peaceful, On

 

 

 

Once I center my mind I can type in the dark.

All it takes is me present and willing to flow.

Limber up the learning curve,

press my fingers to the keys,

 

Let the story tell its tale.

Cease the interjections lest it all go stale.

There is nothing much to know,

It’s all inside, I just let it go.

 

Emptying this crowded vault,

I open up to prevent assault.

What to do when it hits the page;

marketing is all the rage,

but for this task I need a light.

To sell myself I must be bright.

 

 

 

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/QpbtJlNkWto

 

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

Posted in 12 step recovery, Affirmation, Alcoholics Anonymous, Hope, Humor, Poetry, Wisdom | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

What is Mine

December 13

 

WHAT IS MINE

 

 

The cloud of snow slept in the tree overnight and poured from the branches with the morning breezes.  Showers of crystal, dropping from a clear daylight sky, are telltales of intentions delayed.  What was meant for moon time has been kept till sunshine, a treat for bright eyes and young hearts.  How can I weep over altered destinations?  Arrivals and departures are truly within the province of poetry and postcards, not things for worry or fretting.  Putty is for forming into an image of my desire not the world.  Time is a liquid substance I cannot decant at my will.  Shoulds and oughts are parlor games for the bored and senseless.  If I waste my life playing a game I can’t win I will fail to see what I can’t lose.

 

 

Work with someone who works.

*

 

 

Pretty Girls

 

Pretty girls seem to live by separate rules,

but I don’t know why.

The world is filled with people and rules,

crazy circumstances and the uniformity of exception.

 

The where and what for, of arbitrary allowance

to be regulated based on symmetry or fashion

strikes me as odd, beyond survival

and this may explain so very much.

 

Gravity pulls down equally; discriminates for nothing.

Orbital rotation continues in spite of the fairness of an eye.

The universe supports us without end

but prejudice is our failing

and I blame it on the pretty girls

 

 

Vlog: http://youtu.be/lebYO9ADr0s

 

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

Posted in 12 step recovery, Alcoholics Anonymous, Hope, Humor, Poetry, Wisdom | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment