Best Sobriety Poems
Six days of sobriety may seem awfully long
but somehow in the midst of this I've kept it going strong.
I can hardly imagine how I'll feel when it comes to being clean
but I do know what I see is real and I'm loving what I've seen.
Without the support that you have given and the same goes for the group
I would never have been able to do this. I would have rotted on my stoop
For the way I see it now makes more sense than ever before
all I needed to wake me up was that alarming sound when I had slammed doors.
I know now theres a path, the way that I was going.
But now I've found a different one, and I'm proud to keep on growing.
goodbye i'd rather die stay away from me from my abandoned arm
it's taken way too long to say so long i finally know this is wrong in my arm you don't belong
you wher my friend for years drying all my tears numbing my fears
this will be harder to turn away but i'm sorry i'm searching for better days
you cannot live here anymore for there is somerthing else i adore
never leaving me wasted on the dirty floors you've done nothing but complicate me
finding the sinner withen mechewing me up spitting me out leaving me exposed and in doubt
i tried to hide you but you were on my sleeves more and more
the days got so hot i just forgot to cover you up
people could tell how much you really loved m,y by the tracks on my arms
they could tell how much you made me feed youby the bruises counting the number of uses
i was driven by your emptiness your nimbness i was raped by your security
now i'm driven by someone elses this is no gamecall it lame you make me ashamed
ashamed to know i trusted you all i wanted to do was die with you
i just want to try a new and see what's it's like sober
we can no longer sleep together no matter the beautiful sunny weather
i am gonna start over and learn how to grow older so goodbye to you please stay away
forgat my name forget your game having something else beside me
for my sobriety will never lie to me never hurt me never desert me
your every promise empty you've taken all my money it's no longer funny saying it's better
than sweet sweet honey
i get so sick after your every prick you're never enough making my life extra hard
only satisfied for a few then back out searching for you only i can let you in
somehow you always seem to win all the dreams i had were taken away
it seems in just a blink of an eye then you find me and i'm all scattered and torn
feeling so good after trudging through the hood i sit with your company and drift off
addicted to the unknown that has always been shown now i'm flushing you out
i'm brushing you off it's my time to shine thanks for the memories i'll bury them with you
don't you get it you're all alone you creep around like a stalker i'm prepared for you
hear my words get go be gone now i'm strong and you're dead wrong
someday i'll shine and sobriety will be mine
Mesmerized by silence
the maiden sips the chalice
dipping drink in pilonce
entertaining life without malice
indulgence fills the music
into the cup she holds
sifted in sobriety dousing with fluid
til the limitless path unfolds
to savor is her destruction
she must be careful of a fall
for the entirety of life's instruction
she'll learn to heed the call
maybe it will relinquish
the magic that it bids
and binding won't distinguish
between the garbage it rids
moreover this gift is freedom
but not ever to be free
the punishment is thrice beaten
will she refrain I guess we shall see
Sometimes I think
I would love you more
if I was still drinking.
And then I decipher the code:
I would love you more
if I still loved myself less.
Coffee is a reasonable substitute
for spirit possession.
Surely your heart will tremble,
open the gateway
for earthquakes to exist
within the fault lines
of your fingers —
but at least your pants will be piss free
when the officer asks you
to dance along the straight line.
And when he asks, “are you nervous?”
you’ll respond in the affirmative.
Explain how since 1996
you’ve been waiting for the day
an asteroid directly impacts your car
as you sip espresso
heading southbound on the I-10,
on your way to work.
And you won’t have to explain to your coworker
why your pants are missing,
ass in the air,
bad decisions spilled
on the fresh mopped floor —
dreading the ride in,
knowing he knows
you’d never compete
with his fresh ironed shirt.
This morning I chose slow drip,
because life moves fast enough.
As I crawl upon a sober Road.
A friend lends a hand, and many stories are told
so many people like me that have chosen life
Chosen to be free
Addiction is a Family Curse that does not discriminate
cares not about your race, or how much money do you make
this Demon only turns once was loved , into something it can devastate
It is there you learn how to suppress all fear and pain
there to hold you down, taking lives , taking names with nothing to gain
As I crawl upon the road, it is Dark, it is cold, it is so hard to see
It's only then I realize there is so many like me
Nothing is easy as you face yourself, we all are broken
so much you should have, could have, all words unspoken
to walk upon this road takes courage, takes strength
living life without being Anesthetized , living so openly criticized
"It works if you work it " all the clichés you dislike
They really do work , so listen and you will not have to ride a bike
So many times you can Fall, you'll know what to do , and whom to call
Out of the Darkness A friend helps you stand, a good cup of coffee with number in hand.
there to help you , there to lift you up, there to help you stand.
You must share in all honesty, then you will be driven to start over with Integrity.
TWO YEARS TODAY!!That's right, go ahead
and let the UNIVERSE know big SISTA, that's
1,051,200 min sober yeah we're countin
WITH YA! Raise your arms, leap, feel free to
shout a SCRIPTURE, crowds clapping, joyful
smiles and tears, NOW PLAYING " DAWN'S
DAY" A Paramount PICTURE... The past and
all the uncontrollable, irresistible, impractical
disease infected moments are
WITHDRAWALABLE, they are erasable, no
longer noticeable and you have shown ALL
OF US THAT NO MATTER HOW LOST YOU
FEEL"LIFE IS indeed RETRIEVABLE" Disease
and ADDICTION are SURVIVABLE, It's not
easy cuz those overemotional thoughts
are so easily MANIPULATABLE, and attack
every weakness to breakdown your guard
trying to convince you that those cravings
are simply IRRESISTIBLE! But exactly
63,072,000 seconds ago you Dawn-ster
stood up to that MONSTER, took your life
back, STOPPED LIFE'S FORECLOSURE! You
recalculated and refinanced the interest and
showed STRIFE, took down the for sale sign
put a hold on moving on to the AFTER LIFE!
I'm sober but in a intoxicated way,
when I walk, I mumble to myself
delicately.
The words are like poison.
The acid melts away the compliment
to the barest bones.
I grind them
to make soup.
The worms find themselves confused as they go towards the surface just to be breakfast for a bird who hasn't seen their children in what seems to be years.
As the wind picks up speed, the bird fights through it.
As I did. Is there a battle waging
or is life supposed to be a struggle?
The lungs collapse and the avian angel plummets towards Earth
with only herself to blame.
If we're all God's creation, why did he make us different from one-another?
Why don't we live in complete equality?
Like the decomposing used-to-be's...
Only in death are people the same, we are not meant to know why, if we were privy to this knowledge, we would all die and throw ourselves to the ground in hopes to join them in the soil.
My words feel like toxic, my bones feel weak. I'm a struggler. But I don't know why...
If I just fight for a moment longer, maybe then I will find internal peace, with an external breath.
Because if I don't I only have myself to blame.
I'll make the angels wait.
I still have my concoiusness.
That keeps repeating the same phrase:
"To dust we were formed
and to dust we return.
But dust fades
and poison remains."
Good morning,
Wait, maybe you are just going to bed.
It is early yet you may need to rest that head.
You more than likely, been up for days.
Would you consider changing your ways—
You sit in a basement, trailers and houses.
Running in circles—Half in a daze.
Thinking you have special powers.
Smoking, shooting, and swallowing pills,
No sensation of time—gallivanting at night
Losing track of the days. Time is flying by…
High as a kite---then you hit the ground—
You awake in a tunnel with no light at the end.
Your families in pain—they miss you…
This torchers their souls…
Sobriety is waiting for you.
And I am too…
Copyright © fonda anne….mooreofme....mamao
I was afraid of the dark,
Cuz' my head twisted and turned,
And when the moon was full,
My soul used to yearn.
I wished I was happy,
Full of grace and dignity,
I wished I could have seen me,
The way you saw me.
I'm was afraid of the day,
Cuz' I felt alone and confused,
In the past it was so easy,
I'd just get up and use.
I was afraid of you,
Cuz' you're my deadly disease,
If I took that first pill,
My heart would've been at ease.
But I've become stronger,
I've learned to put me first,
I've finally learned my lesson,
Using only makes me worse.
I promise I'll never swallow,
The first pill that could kill me,
For now I wish to live,
My sobriety full of serenity.
Eight years since I picked up a drink,
rock bottom hit me
as hard as a wall-
I’ve had ninety-six months to reflect and think,
but before you run you
have to learn how to crawl.
There’s no cure for addiction, I had an allure for affliction-
Healing comes in time when you surrender the prescription.
Without the desire to swallow a pill,
without the craving of feeling desperate,
I’ve realized the only
space I needed to fill,
was the hole where I was inconsiderate.
Eight years since I carried selfish greed,
not thinking about my
daughter in her youth-
I wasn’t there for her every little need,
I regret that everyday…
...honest to God truth.
Letting go of my fears filled my soul with crimson tears-
Pleading for atonement brought my faith back in each moment.
There’s no cure for a hard habit to break,
just a choice to stay in remission-
So many hard steps I have had to take,
and taken many a walk into submission.
My fears washed away-
the night has given me day.
Healing comes in time when
you understand it’s only God’s way.
Through faith and prayer I’ve learned to care
about myself and the ones whom I hurt badly-
Life isn’t whole with an addicted soul,
and the depth of honesty I’ve learned…sadly.
Eight years since I left my old life,
time flies,
yet yesterday seems so near-
Now I focus on being a good mother and wife,
and bestow my serenity to...
...those I hold dear.
Eight years ago today was the beginning of
my wonderful life. I suffered from addiction for
many years and fought hard and overcame so
many obstacles. Sure, I have regrets but more
joy to fill the hole I used to have in my heart.
I was 29 when I got sober and I am grateful I
was so young. Now I have the rest of my life
to live healthy, moderately and happily...
May God bless the afflicted...
March 7, 2017
Prayer to the Stone of Sobriety
Under a purple flannel-like sheet, but not as soft;
As warm as flannel-but hotter,
I am sweating.
The flannel shroud soaks up my sweat like my liver soaks up venom
I see angry tigers approaching from the ceiling above where I lay;
Tigers coming to rip the walls of my mortal gut.
Oh, Bacchus, send your vengeful tigers away
What did I ever do to you?
The sheet protects me from sunlight, but not from myself;
Nor am I shielded from Bacchus’ tigers; and not from my sweat.
Beads of toxic perspiration roll across swollen eyelids.
I press my cracked lips firmly together as if to scream silently to scare the tigers.
A poison tiger in my body torments my heart,
Pressing its scabbed paw firmly against my veins
Each pulse of the baneful blood pushes against my forehead as the tiger roars
And Bacchus begins to laugh.
Oh, wine, Oh drink, Oh smoke and pill
Who put you in my shriveled stomach?
Who breathed you into my cancerous lung?
What did I ever do to you?
A heave of tepid vomit snaps like a leather whip through my throat!
Tigers hate the taste of vomit.
Bacchus’ hatred is repulsed by its smell.
The tigers stop with one last press upon my forehead.
The sweat-soaked purple cloth is flung back from my shaking body by an unknown woman.
The wet pile of purple sheet crystallizes on the corner of my pyre.
It solidifies, as does my resolve, to keep Bacchus and the tigers at bay.
The mound of purple quartz is tethered to my body by a cord of desperation.
Oh wine, Oh drink. You too, smoke and pill,
The blue of hope and red of blood join forces to guard me from your tiger claws.
My sobriety hangs in the balance.
It hangs around my neck like a stone
That has the weight of three large hogs.
It hangs around my neck like a young woman, not yet a noose.
Like the woman who was commissioned by ancient Greeks to keep me sober.
Oh, sober Amethyst
Like ancient Bacchus, I cry
Tears of sweat over my drunkenness
Ashamed enough to die; but I cannot
Your generous gift of recovery is free.
What did I ever do to deserve your sober generosity?
Be my stone of sobriety;
You are my receptacle of thought and habit.
Heal me, oh purple goddess.
Protect this mortal from my internal tigress
Guard me with the weight of purple stone.
Oh, stone of sobriety, heal this mortal fool.
While crossing Verrazano Narrows Bridge
recurring mem’ries of New York recapture
history and civilization of the two boroughs
provide me with deep interest and emphasis.
Brooklyn in its old Dutch for “broken land,”
and Staten Island named “Staaten Eylandt”
named in the early 1600s by Henry Hudson,
trailed off on a tangent through centuries.
A myth or perhaps a legend, the island thus far,
was like a quagmire of townships and disputes;
its meaning to immigrants’ culture and religion,
favored silence, security, peace, and integration.
The burden of too many choices based on clans,
growing businesses and stories of interactions;
new immigrants in droves through generations
like an orchestra combined with a sense of drama.
Reflections of their struggles to make ends meet,
reminded me of articulation through interpretation;
in sobriety of heeding of the composer’s intent,
such a musical piece made me suffer and sweat.
Oh, the pedal, rhythmic vitality and expression!
all these elements comprise what piano playing is,
the technique, in a special way, a benchmark item
indeed, a struggle to interiorize those conventions.
But as a human person with some limitations,
with my own history and capability in playing,
I see where I can be fit and freely express myself;
through movements in diverse missionary works.
As it says in French, “bon débarras, il est partí.”
my life continues with a backlog of other issues,
a different world focused on service to the Lord;
with my own repertory – its beauty to humanity.
It’s true that my prayer for the church at large,
is also a bridge across the gulf of separation;
coming to this borough of Staten Island
a hodge-podge of concerns, covenanted within.
Now that relationship with God and people
brings me to nourish that faith and commitment;
with that long stretch of Verrazano Narrows Bridge,
a metaphor to my own journey as a missionary.
Eat shrooms til everythings pretty, pop molls til your caring and witty.
Smoke trees til your chill as the breeze, and drink to forget what you need.
Do all the trippys to think like the hippie, make sure your an expert and not be so picky.
Just let me know when your drug trip is over, so I can tell you how you are when your sober
Drop a rock into a still pond,
and the ripples echo.
A large enough rock,
and a pond sized tsunami,
waves echoing beyond the edges.
Every step I take creates ripples.
Sometimes, a tsunami.
After all, I'm not screaming in outer space.
And the trillions of steps before mine
that gave me the ground I walk on,
need to be acknowledged by the care I take with every step.