EUPHORIA, ET CETERA

I'm out. Ten days in a rehabilitation center which, at times, was as surreal as anything I have ever experienced. People hear the word "addict" and an unsavory image probably swims to their forebrain. Let me tell you this: I was in there from the 8th until today, the 18th, and I can say with certainty that I have never met a group of people, with such varying socioeconomic backgrounds, who pulled for each other as much as this group at Maplegrove did. We had solidarity. Which, to me, is obvious, because we all face the same problem: Addiction. Be it alcohol or crack or powder or smack, we all bend to the weight of the King Kongs on our backs.

During the ten days, with six to seven hours of lecture and meetings per day, I began to feel the weight of the massive gorilla lessen on my back and I began to be able to walk more upright, with my shoulders square to face the world and whatever it had to throw at me. I'm not going to lie. I still have a monkey on my back; I still have a problem and will ALWAYS have a problem with mood-altering drugs. But I was given the tools to combat the Beast, the tools to chip away at its knees. And I feel damn good about that. All the cliches in the world were spoken at Maplegrove. You've heard them, I'm sure. But it all boils down to this: One day at a time. And that's as true as an arrow.

It was the best decision I've ever made. Life may not be rosy all the time--in fact, it often sucks ass--but to face it with a clear head and to be sober is paramount in my life, right now.

Anyway, I had a lot of time on my hands when I was in there and I fell into writing poetry. Some poems are dark and some are uplifting. Some are comical--naw. I wasn't exactly in a joking mood, in regards to literature. Here are a few poems, for the most part chronologically-posted, for your perusal:

"Maplegrove" Tuesday 3:16AM

give us your swillers
your poppers your
strung-out injectors
your inhalers
your rollers your
huddled *missed* slackers

with patience tough
love and learn-ed
receptors
the lame may turn
strong (and but
eye-rolling didactors)

o' but one sacred *Life*
is given to all; with patience
and work
we will *all* become factors

***
"Alive" Tuesday 6:16AM

alive. bipedal arm-swinging
humanoids, carbon-based
life-forms capable of both
great Love and great Malice
--God, Yaweh, Buddha, Mohammed--
a brilliant sunrise, a sobering sunset
all give and give us bipedal
arm-swingers Free Will and
the wrapped, bowed gift of
*Choice*. alive

***
"As Hard as I Can" Tuesday 9:20PM

as hard as i can i
slam my fist into the
off-colored Wall of Denial and
my fist shatters
chrystalline like glass and
the wall follows suit
fist and wall flutter to floor
so-slowly
in a puff of
dis-newal

where my hand had been is
now just a bloodless
stump--cauterized
and it seeks to fill the void

pushing sliding ever-so
gently
it smooths into the void and
encounters the Abyss

what is behind this blank portal
of Amputation?
one way to go. forward

***
"The Sobering Reality" Tuesday 10:00PM

reality comes in many forms
some are just more
skewed
than others

in a clinic in the hoity-toits
of the hand-state a man
was admitted wearing the green of Hospital...
his movements were jerky and
his thoughts were
zoomingfromonetopictothenextwithoutahint
of Reason
his liver was frazzled and
sizzled like bacon
cirrhosis of the liver

and i wondered if an end-game
scenario like that could
lead like a shepherd the sheep
of Madness

could the toxins that the liver failed
to metabolize cause one to go insane?
i didn't want to know but I
sure as Hell was not going to shun him

***
"The Sleeping Beast"

a sense of melancholy
pervades my soul
yet a distant hopeful flare
lights the night-day sky

i feel as though i am
on the verge of losing a
very dear friend, one of whom
has been with me throughout
thin and thick over many years

though i grieve for my dear friend
i also silently, surreptitiously,
do somersaults and cartwheels

a wise doctor once said,
"one must tread quietly past
the sleeping Beast;
for one wants It to remain as It is"

***
"Self-Loathing" Wednesday 8:50AM

tell me what you think of this:
a man checks himself in to a clinic
for drinking, of all things,
innocuous Beer
looks in the mirror, sees
bald fat ugly fucker
staring back at him
fuck creativity and fuck
empathy
let the bitch have it with
...both barrels
a piece-of-shit motherfucking
slice-nutted man
checks himself in to a clinic
for drinking, of all things
innocuous Beer
looks in the mirror, sees
bald fat ugly fucker
with dead eyes
(puffy)
and little to no strength
---the end---
.the fuck.

***
"Check-Out Time" Wednesday 11:35PM

where does it all begin?
and when will it all end?
what shape will the Beast take
when the end-game draws nigh?

are there spheres of Distant
interspersed throughout our planes of Sense?
are we one with ourselves or
are we fighting until the end?
is that shadow a Being?
is that light-shaft a Portal?

can we walk into the Light
and zip ourselves up tight
pillowed against the destruction
of latching on to Energy?
should we even bother?

my throat--tight--tells me no
my mind--renewed--is again my enemy
when did it all begin?
and where will it end?
salud. adios. buh-bye. i'm checking out.

***
"Not-So Comfortably Numb" Wednesday 11:58PM

all of these negative fucking emotions
tumble back into my
band-box of a brain and
Rage says hello to Anxiety and
Depression slaps Fear on the back
like a good long-lost buddy
(it's party-time)

talk is of Fellowship and that
talk is just grand but
how does one join a blasted Fellowship
when one has isolated oneself
for so-very long?

i prefer Numbness to Angst
i'd rather bid farewell to Dash's years
than to slog through the taffy of Suffering

call me crazy--i don't like pain

better to die a loner's death
than to parry and proffer and get
shot down in flames...

this is about the fear of Rejection.
there. i made it easy for you.

***
"The Coyotes"

i stand calm, smoking
from woods two coyotes shine
vanish in moonlight

***
"The Gray Haze Descends" Friday 1:16AM

the gray haze descends and i watch
with heavy-lidded lizard's eyes
i watch as a thin sheen of
Beauty
buffers me from the Dark's forces

all worries slide silently away
as i watch the gray haze descend

chaos and catastrophies lose their solidity
they turn dark-gray and then blend
into the sheen
and then they are as ghosts
transparent, easy to fold up
and put in my pocket

i'll carry the Chaos with me always,
crinkled and creased with the
dust of many Years, wary
always, of its ability to unfold
--unfurl--
and replace gray haze with the Red carpet of Hell

***
"Every Day Daily" Saturday 11:55PM

smack-forward to Present
busted lives, forgotten Love
to see suffering is to remember
--every day daily--
for the rest of the natural life
the power of and the wounds from the Beast

every day daily we need to tear apart
the scabbed dermis and probe
fingers through cavity
of blood
and tissue

to forget is to die and
to remember is to daily-live
throughout heartaches and loss and
throughout Light-filled times

our Darkness must be omnipresent
we must hold it close to our breast
as tenderly as a baby bird,
careful not to crush it yet strong
enough to keep it caged

every day daily

next to our heart. where it belongs

***
"Foxholes" Sunday 9:15PM

you make fast friends in foxholes
thrown together by varying circumstances
relationships borne of strife
cemented with a common goal
a flashing neon sign in the temporal lobe:
"good-health-sobriety-lifted-spirit"

you make fast friends in foxholes
with the rockets booming overhead
and the grenades of Addiction
--tearing apart--
showering dirty souls slow-motion-up
into the air and
back down with a
breathless sob

forged with a common goal
broken souls--bleeding--regenerate
and Light begins to filter
back into Darkened lives

the Beast of Burden caterwauls
and dissolves but slowly

but, that's fine:
we have Time on our sides