ADDICTION IS DISBURDENING

ADDICTION IS DISBURDENING

Addiction as Disburdening

What addiction distracts me from is my own life. In such distraction, it relieves me of the burden of that life; of actually having to live it out, with all the uncertainty, boredom, routine, frustration, and disappointment that so often characterize even the most fortunate life. Most especially, addiction relieves me of the need to keep on searching for meaning in my life, the need to give my own life meaning through commitment, dedication, and daily perseverance. Thanks to my addiction, the search is over. I no longer have to give my own life meaning. Because my addiction is the meaning, my addiction gives it meaning.
Practicing an addiction becomes an all-consuming activity. The time involved in actually taking the drug or engaging in the addictive behavior is only a small part of the total time devoted to the addiction. Time spent securing the supply of the drug or the opportunity to act out some behavioral compulsion, time spent planning to use or act out, time spent arranging all of the trappings and rituals one has built into using the drug or performing the action-time spent on these and all the other activities that go with the addiction must also be taken into account. When they are it is easy to see how the addict's addiction can come to fill up the entirety of the addict's life, squeezing out all else.

Life ceases to be a burden once one turns it over to one's addiction. It ceases to require decisions, since all decisions have already been made. All that's left to do is to carry out, over and over and over again, the same ritualized behaviors, leading to the same, ritualized results. The addiction now lives one's life for one, disburdening one of it.

IN A GRIM PARODY OF THE SLOGAN "ONE DAY AT AT A TIME" THE ADDICT'S LIFE GOES ON IN THAT  FASHION LONG AFTER  ALL THE LIFE HAS BEEN DRAINED OUT OF IT.

Virginia, Bob and Maya

What's understood, need not be explained! “I am Me. In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me. Everything that comes out of me is authentically mine, because I alone chose it -- I own everything about me: my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions, whether they be to others or myself. I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears. I own my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes. Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me. By so doing, I can love me and be friendly with all my parts. I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects that I do not know -- but as long as I am friendly and loving to myself, I can courageously and hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles and ways to find out more about me. However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me. If later some parts of how I looked, sounded, thought, and felt turn out to be unfitting, I can discard that which is unfitting, keep the rest, and invent something new for that which I discarded. I can see, hear, feel, think, say, and do. I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, and to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me. I own me, and therefore, I can engineer me. I am me, and I am Okay.” 

 "Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you are hurting or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful. There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around. You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you because they love you for who you are. The things that seem insignificant to most people such as a note, song or walk become invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to cherish forever. Memories of your childhood come back and are so clear and vivid it’s like being young again. Colours seem brighter and more brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was infrequent or didn’t exist at all. A phone call or two during the day helps to get you through a long day’s work and always brings a smile to your face. In their presence, there’s no need for continuous conversation, but you find you’re quite content in just having them nearby. Things that never interested you before become fascinating because you know they are important to this person who is so special to you. You think of this person on every occasion and in everything you do. Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon. You open your heart knowing that there’s a chance it may be broken one day and in opening your heart, you experience a love and joy that you never dreamed possible. You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it scares you. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life." 

  "I've learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life. I've learned that making a "living" is not the same thing as making a "life." I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I've learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one. I've learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I've learned that I still have a lot to learn. I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." 

Mon 9/3/2012 11:25 PM

picture wall

how does the love continue,

gaze upon decade old framed times,

sparkles in eyes and shine in smile,

pictures do not capture decline of why,

pot-shots only cannot depict the truth,

but confuse what should be understood,

wall of pictures tell me please,

stop the lies, smiles,

capture real time,

good and bad,

paint a portrait of the life at hand.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Jason been 3 years since you left us kid!

where are you,
lost in amber sky,
do you continue to accompany,
me?
what happened that night?
misunderstood,
nonetheless,
it had to be your heart,
that continued the beating in my chest.
pain brought new,
family I never knew,
alarm clock wake,
since it's you who,
makes it do what it do.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

brother

closing in the face I hide,
God I paint the sky,
with so much shade for my life,
while some will say I've lost my mind,
Brother try to talk to my,
you were always so very far away,
I know that pain,
so don't run away like you used to do,
close in the vase of wine,
bloody by the torn design,
with leaves falling because the hand is pulling,
up on us again,
Brother you were always so far away,
I know that pain,
And I won't run away like I used to do,
pictures in the box,
yellow wings, green with mold,
so I can barely see your face,
wonder how that color taste,
cause you and I were so far away,
but I know the way,
so don't run,
away,
like we used to.

Old friends, follow, hard-times swallow

they're just an old friend,

another friend that likes to follow ME,

an ole' friend/real friend, would not have you crawl upon your knees?

follow me to my knees, just as my blood,

just prove to me, once, one-time, it's me and you baby girl, ONE LOVE!,

tell me now, with more friends, aint they got much more problems,

sure you won't that advise my friend,

can't you feel,

in the soul and the thoughts of the cold, brisk, wind,

nothing to stop (at all) this frosbite air,

blowing my soul,

if you can say, "I ain't loving you?"

but you know my time,

really ain't, seriouslly ain't, going to be so kind,

gonna make em think about the way I used to be,

even if I break a rule, maybe make

the banjo scream,

"Mercy, me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!",

while I make,

one of my only harmonic(as) songs,

yeah, baby, LET ME KNOW YOUR NAME,

tell me just what, you thinkin'.......she's likely to be,

"she's still homegrown",

don't make 'em like that SON! NO' MO', Not no more,

and lkes to get it and give it the same, the same,

the way I've always been,

aww man, look, it's the lights! that're REALly going dim!, and the clapping fades,

 and people start picking up my music things,

and I sing a song how life and music must be hand in hand in order to exist,

comprehend,

hard times is just my whole world,

never gonna let me be,

old friend, when you gonna let me be,

old friend when WILL you spread those wings down, around and over me?

life

it's a white picket fence in the making,
a jail-cell for the taking,
it's surveliance and peeping 'Toms',
it's the fire that keeps me going,

it's Sunday nights when all is quiet,
sipping tea,
listening for the crackling fire,
and fire, it's the danse,
that trance,

little souls that bounce above the smoldering synthetics,
and inside that white door behind,
another world I can find,
where supper is cooking on the stove,
my beautiful other half,

my seven-month and three year old,

and about sixty-seven miles out east,
it's 12 years now that my heart started to beat,
it's his hairline that reminds me of dad,
it's his facial expressions,
embarrassing red,

it's my life,
and it was my pine,
i've cut both of them down,
but it's the first that gets me up,
each morning now,

it's my soul that my conscience must follow 'round.

tidal wave

you've got your ball

you've got your chain,

tied to me,

tie me up again,

who's got their claws in you my friend,

into your heart, heartbeat again,

sweet like candy to my soul,

sweet you rock,

and sweet you roll,

lost for you,  I'm so lost for you,

and you, oh my God, you come rolling into me,

and I'll come into you,

only if you want me to,

in a boy's dream,

if I tell it like it is,

it's in a boys dream,

I'll touch your lips,

just so I'll know,

that in your eyes love'll begin to grow,

so I'm there going crazy for you,

and you twist into me and I come into you,

Oh I've gone overboard and I'm begging you to forgive

me in my haste,

but I'm holding you so close to me,

rolling into me,

and baby I'll always come into you,

just hike up your skirt a little more,

and show your world to me,

in this boy's dream,

I watch you through the window and I stare,

and you wear nothing but you wear it so well,

tied up and twisted the way I like to be,

for you for me,

come into me baby,

pretend that,

you know you are the queen of the castle,

I'll be the dirty rascal,

while I am swimming in your sea and your ocean,

and I can see the wave coming,

I'll be your dixie chicken if you'll be my louisiana lamb,

if we can walk down into dixie land,

just, love, love, love, and come into me,

baby,

and I'll crash into you

drown

no matter where you are,
i can still hear you when you drown,
you travel very far to see if I'll come around,
when I'm down,
all of those yesterday's coming down,
I can still hear you when you dream,
you travel far like a star,
and you are,
those yesterdays coming down,
is it someting, something, I said,
was it something someone did,
yesterday the sky was  you,
and I still feel the same,
nothing else for me to do,
and I feel lame,
I wish I could fly,
I wish I could lie,
I wish I was shy,
mostly wish I could lie.

NORMAL?

normal?

psycopath tendencies never elude,

my psyche a chalkboard for scholars,

to configure what unknown prognisis,

is left to discover,

un-cover, devour, exploit,

medicate, never emancipate,

only a wall of mirrors,

enter the dragon style,

where the villian with claws,

cuts me and laughs as I withdraw,

publicly humiliated by what I've become,

and to think that we all have tendencies,

of wrong,

wrong or not normal,

and what is this become,

socially accepted by ones,

who have never experienced the fun,

real life living without bright sun,

if only my loved ones,

would know what I've become,

in-geniuous,

how chameleon-like,

I have become.

I ride diamonds, bare-backed,
at mind numbing altitudes,
I see,
sun-sets that shade and never hide,
red-velvet and amber,star-lit-skies,
now gazing from beneath the streets,
I've scribed,
invisible to those who dared not fly,
in un-ruly times,

jet stream's lullibies,
moving so fast,
no need to glance behind,
constantly making moments,
that out-shine,
living life each second for what it is,
a new experience,
lifting the sadness when the body dies,
because of the knowing,
that the soul continues to fly.

off canal

school day's attitude,

with

sun rays on a

red vette hood,

garden district and

french quarter blues,

fountain rain washes

'way mostly good,

but memories made

down by Jackson's square,

never fade,

I do declare,

so trumbone shorty blow

that horn,

on the corner

of

Royal' and Esplinade,

lucky dogs, hard lemonade,

maybe even

two or three hand grenades,

but, remember what ever goes down,

in that steaming shade,

history's in the making,

grafitti sign your name.

awake

eyes open slightly

with a rooster's crow,

a blink to sooth the burn

of eyes,

who've been scorched,

with bitterness and cold,

the rays of hope

I feel,

will break thru and glow,

and the mumbles of importance are heard spoken

low.

driveway

dusty driveway with hills of leaves,

terrain built with each sweeping breeze,

tire tracks groove their way,

footprints and skinned up knees,

a life time of memories,

somehow grow like neighboring trees,

countless tears and lost, big dreams,

returning home from lands un-seen,

some may look at their's and see,

cement, cracks and oil-stains,

but, I see so much more in mine,

the,

past and the present leave the future's signs,

not just a driveway now,

more like a moutain-side,

another world,

right beside,

the little white, perfect-house.

confused cranium: child to adolescent (Can you remember)

confused cranium: child to adolescent (Can you remember)

child to adolescent (Can you remember)

child to adolescent (Can you remember)

can you remember as a young child,

how simple things were,

saturday mornings my body felt like

a locomotive,

soon thereafter,

came soft lip first kisses,

finger tips entered,

button fly's werent' zippered,

never touched,

cept' those few wonderful wicked gardens,

at midnight,

where we ventured with steady hands,

broken hearts, bleed deep,

they heal,

where ever that may have been,

under star lit sky, camp fire,

naked bodies lay in the back,

of my 79',

trippin' billies, bon fires,

beer and boon farm wine,

and,

where exactly was it where we crossed that line,

where we couldn't spend the afternoon,

at your place nor mine?

and what could have been wonders my mind,

like wild mustangs roamed,

and crystal water creeks shined,

full moon high,

leaves rustled, no cried,

as they fell as the wind pushed them from their vines,

as we all fall one day,

merely a matter of time,

one life, one love, make it yours not mine,

love hard, beloved of mine,

all mine,

soul mates we are now and still be till the end of time.

child to adolescent (Can you remember)

can you remember as a young child,

how simple things were,

saturday mornings my body felt like

a locomotive,

soon thereafter,

came soft lip first kisses,

finger tips entered,

button fly's werent' zippered,

never touched,

cept' those few wonderful wicked gardens,

at midnight,

where we ventured with steady hands,

broken hearts, bleed deep,

they heal,

where ever that may have been,

under star lit sky, camp fire,

naked bodies lay in the back,

of my 79',

trippin' billies, bon fires,

beer and boon farm wine,

and,

where exactly was it where we crossed that line,

where we couldn't spend the afternoon,

at your place nor mine?

and what could have been wonders my mind,

like wild mustangs roamed,

and crystal water creeks shined,

full moon high,

leaves rustled, no cried,

as they fell as the wind pushed them from their vines,

as we all fall one day,

merely a matter of time,

one life, one love, make it yours not mine,

love hard, beloved of mine,

all mine,

soul mates we are now and still be till the end of time.

Un-Eraseable (By Maggie__To Odie)

I have a charity that is very important and special to me. St. Jude's Hospital for children. I give to the charity as often as I can and just sponsored a team in a Sporting Clay Shoot in Katy, TX. With that being said, I get a lot of letters from children thanking me, etc. Although I wish they wouldn't do that, I do appreciate it. It breaks my heart each month when I receive a letter. It's very personal and can be hard to read. Well, one of the kid's I was receiving letters from passed away. His name was or is Odie. He was 12 years old and had a rare form of liver cancer. He fought hard but in the end, lost the battle. His very good friend, Maggie, wrote a poem in Odie's honor called............. "Un-eraseable". Maggie is 7 years older than Odie, but, that didn't get between their friendship. They met at St. Jude's as Maggie also has been fighting cancer for a long time. Here is the poem..



Un-eraseable By: Maggie To: Odie



Hey there, it's been a long time

And I want you to know

I haven't forgotten you

I still think of you all the time

You're the birds in the sky

And the sun in my eyes



Hey there, I hope you remember me

All the laughter we shared with no hair

And I just want you to know

I'll take you with me wherever I go

I will tell the world your name

And they will never be the same



you're uneraseable



Did you know whenever I'm afraid

I remember your strength

My fears begin to fade

Your eyes looking straight through me

I made you a promise

I intend to keep



Did you know you beat your cancer

Even though you were sick

Death couldn't destroy you

And I just want you to know

I'll take you with me wherever I go

I will tell the world your name

And they will never be the same

re-post from my other poetry site.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

night to morning

all lost by night, seeking morning's sunrise

to awake what may be perceived,

a broken soul longs to anguish no more,

and

fantasies frolic amoungst the

half-moon-light,

early morning's yawns awake

the

shapes and colors that take thier place,

all

graced by a mother dove dancing

thru sweet drissled rain,

refreshed now, all comes together,

as dreams fade and I wake

from slumber.

park of (life)

a walk in the park, my life,

watching trees shed, their color,

and at different times (on different days, different walks),

the sun has shown his face to me,

thru limbs of Oaks and Pines,

that as a child, I would climb,

Warmth, Rays of Hope, Dreams,

all, the names of streets which led me to this park of life,

this merry-go-round,

yet, as days turn to years, then to decades,

the terrain of this beautiful place,

has not changed,

only the direction of which I have entered has,

I have drowned in the sand-box on different occassions,

and I have slid, wrecklessly, yet, luckily,

and I have swang, eyes closed, wind in my youthful hair,

I now can see my reflection,

in the mud-puddle,

that I've made,

to my dismay, it's not so bad,

and in this same park, that I have trampled upon,

my children, and hopefully, their's too,

will learn lessons,

that I have willed to them,

I, only a droplet of rain, from one thunderstorm,

from the beginning of the storm,

hope to leave an indention, a mark,

to show others how to take a fall.