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Anthony Guccia Poem
All you need is the will. Where there is a will, there is always a way.
But, my polluted mind couldn't see the path to success ahead.
No map exists to sobriety, or a magical compass to recovery
The lifestyle I once lived, so empty and desolate.
Only able to completely rely on my own self.
For recovery, you need people. And, people are willing to help.
I surrounded myself with all of the acronyms.
AA, NA, MIA. I felt lost in the madness.
A peer in recovery helped me find a start; a Detox program.
These words so unsettling to any real drug addict.
But, this time I was done. Beyond done, Completely over it.
Their medications allowed me to surpass that three day barrier.
A mark of achievement I had so many other times missed.
By day seven, I started to feel slightly more normal.
A pre-dope normal, one that existed before the drugs took over.
But, then I opened my eyes and I saw the doors.
I knew exactly where those doors led to...
They led to the street. They led right back to the needle.
So I just stayed, and moved right into their inpatient program.
A place I swore wholeheartedly I would never go.
The twenty-eight days can be summed up in one word: Reassuring.
Each day I grew more confident, and began to feel reassured.
Just when I came to an acceptance that recovery was truly possible.
Once again, I stood weary at those same two doors.
I decided to speak out. It came from a place of fear and despair.
I was directed into a new form of safe haven.
IOP, with an emphasis on the "intensive."
For four hours a day, for four days a week, I worked at recovery.
Each day building upon my new foundation of inner strength.
When, and only when, I felt completely ready.
I left IOP, and again I immersed myself in those acronyms.
I also found a healthy replacement for my abundant time.
The gym became my therapy, relieving me both body and mind.
Working out was my new "high." Only this time it was healthy.
Through the entirety of this life changing experience.
I learned many new things about life, about myself.
Proving that where there's a will, there is definitely a way.
It took first reaching rock bottom, and the absolute lowest of lows.
to learn first hand, that you can't reach the top, without first being at the bottom.
Copyright © Anthony Guccia | Year Posted 2016
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Anthony Guccia Poem
Little pebbles of broken glass, litter the streets, but the children run barefoot anyway.
Stubbing toes, contracting disease, playing with cigarette butts and discarded syringes.
The teens hide by the dumpsters, and quickly pump a vein.
A homeless man, jealous of the teen; instead, clenches his timeless drug of choice, a good ole' fashioned beer.
The sun still shines on the dust covered signs.
The streets crumble under the weight of America's ever increasing obese population.
Nothing has really changed, besides new acceptance of tried and true vices.
There’s always little kids causing trouble, teens using drugs, depressed old men drinking away their shame.
America is still the same great country,
Far superior than all the rest!
Despite their reduction in crime, lowered drug addiction rates, drop in homelessness, and constant upkeep of their buildings and streets.
Well besides all that... America is still Superior in Every way….
Copyright © Anthony Guccia | Year Posted 2016
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Anthony Guccia Poem
"I PROUDLY PROCLAIM:
I did it for me! Not of guilt, nor shame.
A simple desire to end Heroin's evil reign!
For once in my life, I gave "Change" a fair chance.
Because one can only move forward, when willing to advance.
With each new passing day, life gives itself back.
The train that I derailed, returns to its tracks.
Still...
I left countless souls scattered in my addiction's wake.
Ruining in only seconds, what took a lifetime to create.
With every shot I took, my family who bled.
Left Sleepless wondering, "Is my son Dead?"
We pretend our disease afflicts us, and us alone.
Loved ones suffer too under Addiction's heavy stone.
No matter our strength or will, our misery we cannot contain.
Everyday we spend using, others will share in our pain.
I know...
Not everyone will forgive me, accepting me a new.
And, some of my dirty deeds, I can never undo.
But, the battles not over, until our efforts forever cease.
Every day we keep trying, brings us closer to our peace."
Copyright © Anthony Guccia | Year Posted 2016
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Anthony Guccia Poem
What of "Free-Will," of which the prophets foretold?
A cruel little lie, bore of simple human design,
are our minds even capable, of the power to choose?
Or, are we blind sheep, being herded by the flock,
wrangled all together, just to be finally led astray?
Humankind seems to crave its own subjugation!
Of Religion, For Government, In our feeble little minds.
Freedom simply an illusion, another comforting lie,
Each generation complacent of their forefather's status quo.
Power firmly remains, with the few perched at the top.
The Bourgeoisie become Earth's largest congregation.
Even after centuries, not the slightest shift of balance.
Question their authority, get quickly stricken down.
"Destiny," their creation, to keep us silent and contained,
nothing remains left to the luxury of chance or fate.
Billions now brainwashed, mindless and obedient drones,
enslaved to do their bidding, our Government's mules.
Even God didn't foresee, how far we would fall.
Blindly praising institutions constructed by fellow man,
forgetting his firm warning, not to worship false idols.
Man bows to the Government, its holiest of incarnations.
Regardless their definition, they all share the blame,
from out-of-date Monarchies, to refined Democracies.
All Function reliant, on man's unquestioned allegiance.
The consequence of opposition, capital punishment,
Yet, countless remain quiet and vigilant.
Coup d'etat and revolution, tools of a forgotten past.
Our future now more uncertain, then ever before.
A millennium of suffering, bounded in servitude,
Man it seems, will inevitably rule itself into submission.
Man alone granted freedom from a previously destined fate,
God's one and only creation, blessed of inherent "Free-Will."
Appreciation long forgot, now boastful and full of arrogance,
forsaking, the very essence of our human existence.
Taking for granted, even the gift of life in it self.
Our lives spent as slaves, to God's born of flesh and blood,
voluntarily submitting, to every Politician's new command.
Society's first rulers, who our ancestors surrendered control,
remain ruling still, bringing even evolution to a sudden halt.
The Great Human civilization continues into its decline.
Man's final hope, lay beyond the grasp of our mortal reach,
gone until, God reclaims his authority, as sole ruler of man.
Will glory finally be restored to our failed Utopic land?
Or due divine justice, will final judgment now commence?
Copyright © Anthony Guccia | Year Posted 2016
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Anthony Guccia Poem
Life's greatest question:in what capacity will our soul exist after our physical death?
The question has plagued mankind since Eve's fateful first bite.
But, with knowledge and the perception of existence, comes great burden.
In life, only the certainty of death is guaranteed to all of mankind.
So we create fictitious beliefs and myths ruled by all might Gods.
Complete with a much more appealing version of afterlife, than science gives
Creations devised to fulfill our basic need to explain away our fears.
Mankind's two greatest fears being: the unknown and our mortality.
If humans are so intelligent, why do billions believe fables written by men.
We pride ourselves on the advanced level of scientific and technological achievements.
But, we put faith in a mythical God, with no burden of scientific proof.
We live our lives in anticipation of a continued existence beyond our current one.
Gathering in large congregations, repeating cryptic and antiquated verses
Living life, following a code of ethics and laws, to be good little sheep.
Deep inside our being, knowing all along the falsehoods of our beliefs.
While we adhere to the rules of our chosen God and Religion
And, the numerous and over bearing laws and codes of government
When do we get to enjoy our current state-of-being of our life.
denying our mind's desires to avoid breaking imaginary laws of Gods
Wasting the true gift of human kind, the ability to experience and choose ones path
Ignoring the thoughts created naturally within our minds construct
For fear that indulging in the enjoyment of our mortal human life
Is somehow wrong, or will be enough sacrifice to buy our way to eternal life
The time to find happiness and enjoyment is passing with every tick and tock
Indulge your mind's desires and experience all life has to offer
Before our only chance is lost forever, in a state of complete emptiness.
Question answered: Will your soul be conscious after you leave the earth?
Copyright © Anthony Guccia | Year Posted 2016
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Anthony Guccia Poem
A Storm is brewing, quietly churning above.
Residents working to prepare a town tradition.
Mobilizing able citizens, attempts to guarantee success.
A hundred year tradition, the town's shining gem
Times are changing, still they cling to the past.
As if modernity bypassed this place altogether.
It's eight businesses, still local and family owned.
Their mayor holding office since nineteen-sixty-one
Believing isolation, enhances their unity
Protective of their land, united they stand.
God forbid, an outsider stay more than a night.
The town forgotten, by modernity a whole.
Still denying the present, fate soon brings change.
Above aging structures, sky churning away
Storms can be soothing, or conversely bring pain.
Two winds once opposing, now stand converged
Conditions ideal, for a tornado to form.
Tornadoes alone, enough cause for concern
The storm continues, still growing even worse.
Clouds full of static charge, leaves us no doubt
More than enough reason, for residents to react.
Residents scurry, the final preparations complete
A horn rips through town, warning of dangers ahead
Shocked, but resilient residents, Care only of the fair
Preparations complete, they refuse to heed warning
Storm's, a regular event, how bad could it be?
no one knowing, the destruction in their midst.
nature waits on nothing; neither man, nor tradition.
Ignoring warning, disregarding the safety of shelter.
Heaven's launches its first assault
Tornadoes engulf people, like Dorothy off to OZ.
Electricity scorches the land, which farmers depend.
Fires emerge, and their antique town's ablaze
Structures kept original, perfect tinder for a spark
One pair of hours, laying the entire town a waste
Totality of the destruction, reaches Biblical proportions.
God of Ancient now returned, again full of wrath
visually reminiscent, of Sodom and Gomorrah.
Destructive magnitude, unseen in over a millena
No signs exist implying Religious implication
No Voice from Heaven, a warning from the God's
No prophecy exists foretelling this specific date
Feeling still, the coincidences hard to explain.
Even though God's involvement, impossible to prove
Regardless the architect, destruction was wrought
Unknown of nature's will or God himself.
Countless still missing, more dead or injured
Their fertile lands now desolate as the sun.
Buildings of antiquity, now smoldering piles of ash.
A town so isolated, has lost their connection to the past.
Progression's newest victim, brought by an aggressor unknown.
Copyright © Anthony Guccia | Year Posted 2016
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Anthony Guccia Poem
He glad plays victim, and freedom from blame.
Instead blaming Love, and cursing its very name.
His heart went blind, far before our crimes we did commit.
Years spent ignoring her every need, not once did he submit.
Her heart had finally had enough, and made up its own mind.
If he wouldn't give her love, then love she would find.
Only true love, they say, ensures a souls content.
How easily we found love, as if heavenly it were sent.
At first she met me with denial, refusal to consent.
But soon love conquered all her fear, our worries too they went.
Passion finally had its way, breaking us free from our bounds.
Our pleasure clearly displayed with our each and every sound.
In our new found ecstasy, which we gladly shared.
Things became too normal, she forgot to be scared.
Then our little secret, became exposed out right.
Our happy new world, brought clearly into light.
What started off so innocent, maybe even pure.
Was now very real, shaking three souls unsure.
Now, our journey's destination lies solely in her mind.
When she looks deep within her heart, I wonder who she'll find.
The question simply becomes what's the risk/reward?
Is new found happiness worth putting a marriage through the sword?
Is familiarity enough cushion to break the sadness of her fall?
Or, is being truly happy the reward worth any risk or all?
Copyright © Anthony Guccia | Year Posted 2016
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Anthony Guccia Poem
You consume my neutral spirit.
Taking Control, and I submit.
Your abuse, wrought, at
other's distress...
My putrid friend,
You have ruined my life.
Reluctant I wish, you
Cease to be...
My Personal Ode
to Mr. Jim Beam.
Copyright © Anthony Guccia | Year Posted 2016
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Anthony Guccia Poem
This poem was too long to submit without premium membership, so I have submitted it in two parts, but it is meant to be read together.
Part one....
They say he is clearly psychotic, if knowing that was even a possibility.
The visible signs are all present, his behavior is a dead give away.
"Normal" people don't act this way, they act like everybody else.
When did being different, become the diagnosis of being clinically insane?
Their image of "normal" is repeatedly drilled into our heads.
Through the direction of our leaders, our education, multi-media.
The television and cinema screen their greatest tools for propaganda.
A man and his lovely wife, with their two point five children,
A duplex in the suburbs, undistinguished from any of the others.
a neatly trimmed lawn, a few hedges, a two car garage for their one vehicle.
A couple truly in love, rarely do they argue, with great sexual chemistry.
Working constantly through the better part of their lifetimes
making enough money to pay their bills, and splurge once a week.
their companies CEO, the bill collectors, and the government's tax brackets,
all work together in unison, to ensure that they are never more than comfortable.
At the age of sixty-five, they have a small nest egg saved up together.
Only now, well into their "golden years," are they allowed to live as they choose.
Their biggest motivation and desire, is simply to survive for another year.
When they die, their children discover they have no money in their accounts.
It always is a shock, revealing your parents have died completely broke.
Ideal examples of the perfect "American Marriage," left penniless in their grave.
Luckily for the children, they had purchased a small life insurance policy.
The payout almost exactly enough to cover the burial costs and funeral.
Even experiencing this unsettling revelation at their parents expense,
These same children are pre-destined, doomed, to follow suit.
Brain washed into believing that their outcome will somehow be better.
They spent less, saved up more, purchased a better insurance policy.
Unaware their parents shared these exact thoughts, forty years prior.
Copyright © Anthony Guccia | Year Posted 2016
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Anthony Guccia Poem
Times have changed, much for the worse.
Familiar understanding, a vestige of the past.
A bond of lineage, of common mother land.
Unified through generations, now all alone.
A time once existed of dependable men.
One man knowing his brother had his back.
A combination of efforts, towards a greater goal.
Family always near, never alone to fear.
An unspoken pact, of reciprocating trust.
Willing to follow one another through fire.
Or, even into the torturous flames of hell.
Right or wrong, irrelevant the conclusion.
Tight knit association of unrelated men.
Lost to the simple greed of modern times.
Youth lacking any pride of their heritage.
Absent any connection, of their ancestral ties.
Every man now valuing, only their elevation.
Battling any or all, for a simple monetary gain.
Loyal only to currency, not blood flowing in veins.
The world in anarchy, an all out free for all.
As Men deceive even their blood relatives.
Betrayal has replaced Loyalty's existence.
When No one cares for only their self,
The whole world has finally gone to hell.
Copyright © Anthony Guccia | Year Posted 2016
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