Surviving

Feeling the warmth of the sun on a cloudy day. A glimpse into a blind billy goat's unique, ever changing perspectives.

2015 04 26 Poetry: One April 26, 2015

Could it be? Can it possibly be the 26th of April already? Is this one of the fastest months the universe has ever seen? Hmm?

It is surely chugging along at a good clip, and I am honored to have you stop by once again. Thank you very much.

I have said aloud a lot that I have an addictive personality. Ever since I can remember, whenever a trend finds its way to me, if it’s something that strikes my fancy, I’m in, one hundred eleven and a half percent, and you better not get in my way or I’ll go sit in a corner, pound my heels against the floor and start sucking my thumb!

No, really though, even if there isn’t a corner around, watch out.

I have loved my addictions, each and every one. I’ve also grown to hate a certain number of my addictions. It’s a fine line sometimes, or at least that’s what our conscience tells us. Dang strong thing, this conscience of ours, or at least mine.

I have seen addiction change my life in ways that was unannounced and unexpected. I have seen these baffling powers control all logical thinking, until, well, there ain’t much logic. I probably didn’t start with a huge amount, so I should have been more careful from the start. I probably thought I was, or I should say, my addictions fooled me into thinking that I was.

I am blessed that I found a handle on my addictions before they completely ruined me and everyone around me. I found a fellowship and jumped in head first. I thank God for those who crossed my path and instilled in me the belief in myself that had vanished.

The following poem is a reminder to me of how far I have come, and how short the distance is to where I came from. I continue to admit many things every day, and I pray.

Take care and thanks again for your support during this National Poetry Month.

God bless the writers and their stories.

Deon

***

One

Weeping tears mark the progression of life
Small droplets of painful woe mark the steps
Salted trails down unsuspecting cheeks dry against a harsh, bitter wind
Pleading eyes peer towards the Heavens as the soul inhales deeply with anguished breath

Unrelenting memories flood the chambers of a captured heart
Thoughts frantically dash about with electricity as the veins surge
The imagination wreaks havoc with unanswered speculation
Again the lungs deeply expand as the body uncontrollably quivers

Well trained torment tightens its unforgiving noose
Eyes dart quickly, searching for a secret escape
The conscience rapidly rubs its hands together, and smiles
With retreating logic, the moment is at hand, again

Shaking hands grasp and pull against a disappearing will
The mouth waters and the eyes peer as the ghosts circle around
A gripping, twist of fate unleashes the manipulative poison
Eyes flitter, then close as an unwelcome guest moves back in

One is too many
One million is not enough

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