I remember walking miles with
our blackies (big garbage bags)
They were full of cans, a nickel a piece.
We were poor aluminum cowboys.
Kind of like Don Quixote and Sancho.
Chivalry wasn't our thing, but we
didn't shy away from it either.
We certainly had our share of
adventures, and misadventures too.
We headed East into the
glorious tangerine and lavender sky of
our La Mancha/Iowa City.
We should be chasing windmills, and
*****, and cigarette butts;
except late one Summer day,
providence ended it all.
We sat behind our castle
(which closely resembled a grocery store.)
Your face went pallid and you fell on me.
I did C.P.R until the ambulance arrived.
You didn't make it.
I hope there are
adventures in Heaven,
my aluminum cowboy.

Often, when I'm on the
streets, decaying in *****-
degradation of the soul,
I go under the bridge and watch
the ducks.
Sometimes I talk to them.
They don't talk back.
Some days, it's the only
beauty I can see.
I think and dream of
a different world.
A land without
brutal lunacy.
I can handle madness.
It's the wicked,
smiling hatred that I
can do without.
The Iowa River beckons
me to come swim-
float blissfully to heaven.
But I know better.
Katie and Perry drowned not
far from where I sat.
It's usually at this time that
I'm fresh out of bread for
the ducks and I have milked the *****
bottle for all it's worth, that a
warm blanket of a thought comes to
me- I need help- go to the hospital.
I stumble my way there,
sometimes by ambulance.
I go through nightmarish withdrawals.
At around the third day, I get a
laptop from the patient library.
I catch up with neglected family
and friends, then I try to write.
The first four days, my mind is
like a smashed snail.
But usually, the magic comes back.
The muse kisses me gently, and I
put the shaking pen to the paper.
I can order whatever food I
want between 6 am and 8 pm.
I discovered years ago that they
have phenomenal cheesecake.
So when I'm able to eat, it's the
first thing I order.
My withdrawals are deadly.
Diastolic blood pressure
numbers like 103,109.113.
So they give me Ativan.
It helps tremendously- Ativan and cheesecake.
**** the muse's ****, then more
Ativan and cheesecake.
If I'm lucky, I'll turn out a
poem or two-like this one right now.

Her name was
Amy, she was
18 and I was 21.
We met the
summer after my
Mom died.
She had a scholarship
to Iowa State for
swimming.
We didn't have
air conditioning, and it was
a brutally hot summer.
I got sick, and couldn't
work; pretty soon
I couldn't get
off the couch.
I had my brother run
to the corner and
use the payphone to call
the ambulance.
It turned out I had
double pneumonia.
They also realized I was
drinking a lot and would
need help medically to
d-tox.

Amy visited me in
the hospital.
She snuck my kitten in.
We made out in my bed.
She was beautiful.
I felt so alive when
I was with her.
The kitten got loose and
ran down the hall.
The nurses laughed.

I got out of the
hospital and began
drinking again immediately.
Amy broke up with me.
She said, "I can't be with
an alcoholic."
I was sad, but I still had
the kitten, until it
got smashed by
a car one sweltering
July night.
Mom
Amy
the kitten--all gone.
Then, I really started
drinking.

Back in my bone crushing
poverty ridden days,
I collected cans for nickels;
enough cans meant ***** and
smokes for the day.
one morning I came across
an empty can of beer, it said,
Dead Irish Poet Beer.
i thought, how odd is this?
Just then, a car blew by blaring
a Van Morrison song.
I thought, ah yes, but he's alive.
I didn't take the can for the nickel.
I left it to its green garbage
can grave.

Seven years ago,
that’s when the problems began.
I started self medicating,
with a Tennessee brand.

At the top I had it all,
married with two kids.
I was finally in six figures,
when the **** began to skid.

Love had grown cold,
and became an abyss.
A couple of drinks to ease the stress,
but I felt ice in every kiss.

It became a routine,
when you simply shut down.
The drinks helped me forget,
but they also helped me drown.

Then one day we were strangers,
who were sharing a life.
I didn’t recognize the woman,
who I had asked to be my wife.

Then came the eruption,
and the stones were cast.
The family tore apart,
and WE became past.

Fast forward a year,
and I’m being let go.
The company’s closing,
and I’ve nothing to show.

Then goes the house,
and the car that we owned.
Everything is stripped now,
and I’m down to the bone.

Self medication,
is what helps the pain.
You were cheating the whole time,
and now you’re with what’s his name.

Now the medication,
is what’s causing the pain.
I’m trying to stop,
but I’m stuck in this lane.

Self medication,
self destruction in disguise.
Hospital visits,
simply wanting to die.

Looking back now,
it was a nightmare it seems.
One I couldn’t wake from,
that still haunts my dreams.

I wasn’t an alcoholic,
I had a mental breakdown.
I used the alcohol,
so I could help myself drown.

It took a long time,
and I’m still healing slow.
But hell came to earth,
and I was part of the show.

So forgive yourself,
and try to move on.
Let go of that pain,
and realize that it’s gone.

If you’re trying to forget,
then you’re lying to yourself.
So do yourself a favor,
and put the bottle on the shelf.

All You See is a drunkard on the skew

Hand full of bourbon,

A head void of thought

With scent that reeks of a night good for naught

All I see is a memory

A ghost of what used to be

Of a man of most charming disposition

And most dreaded of devils

It has made him empty

Has caved him whole

Left him to patch himself up with ***** and whiskey

All I see is a friend long forgotten

Of a man long gone

Replaced with empty bottles and a head full of cotton

I turn and look at the man on the skew

He looks back but does not see

His eyes an unfocus void not upon me

I turn

And I leave

All I see is a drunkard on the skew

I am an addict
I am a mother
I am a daughter
A sister, a friend.

I am an addict
and I live under
The spell addiction sends
right through my bones,
my mind, my heart, my soul

I am an addict
and I have never felt so small
I am an addict
I told myself
As I held my head in shame

I am an addict
and I cannot live with all this pain
I am an addict
I deserve nothing but the worst
I am an addict and
I live under this curse.

Success
I cannot have it (I told myself)
The right to a good life
I am an addict
I’ve caused too much pain and strife.

Content
I cannot have it (I told myself)
I don’t deserve to smile
I am an addict and
I am at the bottom of the pile

I am a survivor
I am a warrior
I am a Queen
But
I had a habit
That dampened all of my dreams

I am a fighter, a writer
I am clever, kind, caring and strong
I am an addict
but under labels I do not belong

I am a women, a human
Who sadly had to break
To be transformed into
The champion she is evolving
into today

I am an addict and
although yes, I do lust
for drink and drugs
I now have a Higher Power
I can trust, who showers
me with strength, guidance and love

I trudged for miles but
with hard work,
The shackles soon fell off
and although yes,
I fell face first
deep into the mud
I wiped my eyes,
squeaky clean and
I truly felt Gods love.

I began to breathe, to believe
in myself, in all my worth
and dare I say it……
I was thankful to still have
two feet firmly on this earth.

I remembered how it feels to live,
to dream, to be free
To feel alive –
and just how beautiful
This universe really is
Through my new fresh eyes.

I am an addict
And I do not wish to forget
For that could do me harm

I will always remember
my loved ones, my friends,
my family
Who lost their battles
In this crazy search for calm
and I hold them here
Firmly within my heart.

They provide me with the fuel
When my internal fire
barely starts
But the ones who keep me
Strong, who really ignite
my light
Are the ones sat amongst us,
The ones who daily fight
to stay sober and clean

We’re not perfect but
We try, the survivors,
the warriors, the ones
fighting to the end
carrying a light for their
lost loved ones and friends

You’re the champions –
In my eyes you are all stars.

And you deserve every bit
of goodness on this earth

Addiction puts blinkers on your
eyes, but recovery removes the curse.

Please understand, it isn’t
easy, it is a daily fight
but with time, care and
a lot of love, I am grateful
to have been given another
chance to try at life.

I am an addict
But I am also a survivor
And freedom tastes so
very, very nice.