The Distinct Circles take Shape

The circles have become more distinct
Chaos and Order
feelings and how to think
to move forward, sometimes we must retreat
to move past lust, sometimes we need to trust in defeat

Powerlessness takes a seat
next to the hope we keep, hidden deep
brought to light
money can’t buy recovery’s fight
neither ought we take this to spite
but in respite we might find the spirit right

The heights and lows would compose
our matrix of columns and rows
a journey from the camp light’s glow
Memory must resonate from the past
but only enough so we may participate in the present’s path

As the future beckons to the water
with paddles and a raft
the usual becomes discomfort
in being more capable of satiating hunger

Close conversations between a sponsor and a sponsee
spawning the beautiful fruit
of the truth that will set us free

Who knew what we could be?
Changing attitude, belief or identity
be free and happy in serenity
take a moment to capture this in memory
maintenance requires the constant energy,
in the present tense to take reality seriously
the beauty of dreams is things don’t need to be as they seem

From Shame to Grace
lifting eyes to their proper place
My fellowship knows these pains and aches
brief moments to the sustained strain of mistakes
substance of a higher power is what it takes
finding new ways to make pleasure out of taste

This endeavor might take forever
but it wouldn’t be a waste
My sisters and brothers keep my faith
whispers soft enough to stay safe
these distinct circles lay out the tape
Chaos and Order
feelings and thoughts
that we love and hate
The distinct circles take shape

Fading to Pain

Suffering has been so regular
I am pretty sure they know my order

Disorder and chaos
big brothers that watch my cross to bare
dig deeper than the hole that could fit my soul’s stare

Hold this patience with care
where you look for the beloved
beware of being aware of the summit
it too has a valley
I never took time to enjoy being empty
until I realized I cannot be constantly filling

Money, Career and Education
have all faded back behind my spiritual participation
my spiritual obligation
if I cannot be fit to exist
then why try to see where else can I benefit

fists balled up in rage
opened to calm palms that turn a page
Tomorrow is today
The universe is always beginning now
where allowed
value all the you can endow
how bout letting it out with a growl

sleep with ease young child
count your breathes and see what else can be left
love is an unknown depth


2 years of exploration into the depths of the human soul

The first time I sat in the room I felt like a snail without a shell
someone who had crawled out from under a rock
I was scared of my own shadow
Sitting still wasn’t something I was familiar with

There were 12 steps written on the walls
There were smiling faces of people who were happy
I didn’t understand how they could not be suffering like I was

years later I see their faces of courage
in my lap is a piece of notebook paper covered with writing
The entire page is filled from an hour of scribbling

The page contains my life
well, it contains my life in regards to suffering
in regards to addiction

I opened the meeting with promises met
followed by a series of nasty habits that have concluded

Then I started at the beginning
vulnerability of the ultimate truth in my experience
Strength and hope were my intention

Heart break, bail bondsmen and lawyers
hospitals, rehab and homelessness

depression, anxiety, insanity, insecurity


until recovery

Daily phone calls, meetings, literature reading
exploration of the soul
restoration of the whole
dedication to the goal.

By the time I was done
this burden has been lifted
vulnerability has allowed me to be gifted
to fear nothing that has ever existed

There still is the unknown but I wake up everyday
the face this with courage

Sharing Kahlil Gibran

Khalil Gibran wrote the prophet
a Lebanese poet who touched the spirits
one who understood his connection and could hear it
When asked of pain,
“Pain is the breaking of the shell of your understanding”
When asked of self knowledge,
“Your heart knows in silence the secrets to the days and nights”
“but your ears thirst for the sounds of your hearts knowledge”
It takes a smile to wear courage
may we live long enough to carry this message,
progress not perfection will take the obsession,
the opposite to addiction is connection,
words from our deepest perception,
stir the pot that got our attention,
we are ready for examination!
Steadying the hands of the surgeon,
this life has one chance so there must be precision,
since when has there been need for condition,
at the precipice of polite resignation<
-lies the peace of our determination

Power is second to the influence of compassion,
use voice to hoist our choices direction,
It was on that day we found
the purpose of passion,
and its chain reaction.

Genetically Emotional

I am emotional by design
It is is in my blood and heritage
a shia born to wail and moan as a martyr writing his words in stone
I have had to listen to my voice and tone

It has taken quite a while
you could always hear it in my freestyle
Some are visual, others get it through the audio
me, I feel the reality, maybe that is why I have to write poetry
I wondered why I wasn’t a good stoic
why I liked to write but not to edit

When things are raw it’s most digestible
I trust my instinct of what is suseptible
having had to train my brain over obstacles
it has been a wild ride of the possible

Is this my strength or weakness?
Meditation teaches me to abstain from judgement of quickness
Seek first to understand then to be understood for forgiveness
Would my heart break apart into sickness
if I didn’t attempt the big business of being fearless?

After a few minutes or silence I bear witness
thoughts got caught in madness
I need to wait until they finish
wait until they are ripe like fruiting citrus
wait for needles of leaves to fall off the cypress
wait for the moment to celebrate like Christmas

I am quick to rise and fall
but understanding I have this giant wall
allows me to interact with you all
mostly glad I don’t turn to the alcohol

Life never felt so good

I don’t remember feeling this way
every morning and night, every day
It’s strange, how the strain on my brain has been lifted
The present has become a gift that bring uniqueness

I never got this high on drugs consistently
there was always a perpetual drop as was its propensity
now there is love and beauty in every second of existence’s intensity,

People call me, we talk recovery
we talk of spiritual malady,
we take stock of the daily insanity
and bring compassion to reality with a remedy

I wake before the alarm,
the cool calm streets are charming
my small empty garden is calling for farming
the leaves need sweeping
I grieve for the beloved’s teachings

For a thousand years I have been knocking
only to find I was knocking from the inside
The design is to hold everything inside
The plan is to break out of doubt to clarity

The Buddhist say the mind is not a mirror that needs cleaning
it is essentially void and pure so how could dust be collecting?

never before have I felt power get much higher
sever the separation of pleasure and desire
water, earth, wind and fire
with this energy how could we tire?
pry the will open like a fence with barbwire
This serenity can be acquired
by wearing an entire attire as an amplifier

Write everyday, for yourself

Write everyday, for yourself
almost as quickly as you can.
My hand has forgotten the pen, its old best friend
The keyboard has me bored
The screen has turned obscene, with constant flashing and flickering.
Remember our journey’s in journals?
Smoke filled rooms of intoxicated slumber
Creativity sparked by force,
A demand enforced by brute strength,
now the funnels open calmly.

Pour your love into this world,
like a father figure raising a boy or girl,
the future’s options unfold like a flower
of countless pedals,
take time to count each one,
the moment will eventually come,
when enough is enough,
after the tough stuff what else could be this rough?

A machine

I am a machine,
Living a life that is sober and clean,
I wake up at 4:15,

Meditation gets me to my concentration,
starting the daily ritual of poetry creation,
my friend is sending me his writings, life is getting exciting,
the woman I am seeing if inviting

Eyes are windows to the soul
Rise and find the lows and highs that encompass your whole
Find the compass to direct the pull
Full of energy needs depleting,
when empty come back for more poetry reading.

I miss this feeling,
I miss her lips, this weekend I will take a trip
Silence reminds me why I exist,
not everything will fit, nor will everything have a place to submit

Seasons change, things rearrange and my goals never stay the same,
never has life had this kind of range, with the real estate that my brain claims.

Experimentation, like a scientist with new devices of appliances.
I watch the Kaizen and then tell a friend
about how things never end
When do we take the time to imagine and pretend

For me it’s the morning when I feel zen,
most are sleeping in, but I feel power from within,
waiting to awaken the machine of my personal invention

Letter to a fellow poet – It has been a while

Where are the poetry venues these days?
Its been a while
Freestyles, written and reciting rhetoricians.
take my ears better than any politician,
I have been missin all of the intuition in formation,
the healthy habit of poetry digestion
is a necessity for consistent internal rehabilitation,every now and then I put on a beat and pretend
to just bend and break the words when there is nothing else to be heard
The Television and and movies are too much for the eyes
I need something for my ear follicles to rise
Sizing up a measure is a pleasure for the wise endeavor
We all know we won’t live forever
but our words put up a very powerful structure.Life changes in many strange arrangements<
Change is synonymous to life as range from the present to the ancients
I miss having an aim for attainment
for the sake of beauty’s placement
I have learned a few new recipes of entertainment
and shed the previous ideologies of my contagion
Joy can be forgotten in old practices
annoyed that the toys we avoid are so miraculous
getting through the void
boy I tell you it sometimes feels like sheer randomness.