there was a time , once he sat in the corner and was called a dunce not dumb, just that his brain was on backwards his dreams were the only thing that matters
he was introduced to the mind changing alcohol paper tiger courage, he was no longer small like Superman, a single leap over the wall and like a drunk, on his face he did fall
thought he was Don Juan, all the girls did run his stinking thinking thought that this was fun on the dance floor he thought he was Fred Astaire to his partner it was like dancing with a bear
he crossed the line, he needed to drink justification, reasons, lies were all that he could think the guilt, shame and remorse were not fun he was alone, isolated, friends there were none
God had other plans for this soul a suggestion he received when released on parole visit a fellowship made up of recovering drunks a group that found the way out of the dumps
with paper in hand he showed up at the door the message was that he did not have to feel that way anymore time quickly passed and he heard just keep coming back new friends and new thinking kept him on track
he learned, never cured, just a daily reprieve of a loving Higher Power he came to believe a living miracle, one of the ten percent he was no longer the loser or the malcontent
his mission became the spreading of the word his tale of recovery is what they heard
Senryu: 5-7-5 ( Haiku with people and their emotions/feelings as a topic)
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heart felt petty love
the verge of insanity
the reason to love
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Poem:
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memories invade the silence
the noise keeps the mind out of balance
could have, should have, what if
just too close to the edge of the cliff
the brain chemistry is out of whack
another manic depressive paranoiac
diagnosed with an eccentric personality disorder
thoughts replayed by a broken tape recorder
fits all the criteria for a disease
always getting worse by degrees
fatal to the victim before their time
often ahead of or when in their prime
the fortunate are prescribed a magic potion
an elixir that does not destroy the emotion
the mind fights back and becomes immune
new cocktails needed before the next full moon
lives lived in constant confusion
what is real and what is a delusion
the lucky become great artist or poets
institutions for those on the scale the lowest
drawing the fine line between crazy and genius
victims coming from a population that is heterogeneous
the mind is a terrible thing to waste
or was it the soul that has been misplaced
prayers that science may find a solution
man could disappear waiting for evolution
the Great Creator may have His reasons
why every person is fighting their own demons
in the meantime try to be civilized
most people are not as advertised
ME and the Boss Poetry 