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Hannah Sep 14
The cold breeze
hits me, everytime
like never before
The darkness,
haunts me
the same way
my thoughts made me
an insomniac
The fog,
opened my eyes
nevertheless, I was blind
I have to remind myself
nature amazes me
On the shore of that same beach
I remember;
childhood traumas
that time I wanted to vanish
and never be found again
But this time,
I didn’t cry
I didn’t shiver
I didn’t lose hope
I stood there
and accepted the truth
I merged my feet
with the cold water
I looked at the sky
So vivid, so blue
I knew it wasn’t always
the mediocrity of the universe
It was many things, at once
And I kept it to myself.
Z Sep 14
Alone I walk an unpredictable trail,
Mind racing analyzing all the ways I fail.
Feeling that the surrounding reality stands still,
As if everything surrounding me attacks at their will,
Alone with nature’s vitality, separated by the emotions we feel.
Perceptions of life’s purpose is to endure the suffering,
Pain brings the opportunity of a lesson,
Student of life, searching for knowledge insatiably.
Empathy, gratitude, a positive attitude,
Clear cut path to humbling, a fractured ego,
Comfort is an illusion, primary emotions a placebo.
Obstacles on the trail... rivers, fallen trees and stones,
No one here to utter words capable of breaking bones.
Language more powerful than the Manhattan project,
Weaponized communication formulated without logic.
Living through our actions, dangerous words become silent,
Respected for our effort, Results of an ego no longer defiant.
Shrouded in chaos no absolute truth,
Awareness resides with a present mind.
Accepting of spaces magnificent design,
New moments present an opportunity to own.
Anxiety provoked mind crippled in fear,
Trust the process then your path will be clear.
Darkness sheds a light in the end,
Growth is in the shadows, humanities path to ascend.
Feedback is always appreciated.
Violet Stage Jul 30
That’s talent
Sniffing out drugs
Down two floors
Down deep in the recess
Of your drawer
Because it lay
Down deep in the recess
Of my mind
Down two floors
Stored for a slow
Take down of your mind
Whilst it picks away
At my carefully
Orchestrated sobriety
Down deep
Layered over
With career
With kids
With paint
With healing sounds
Don’t come around here no more
But it do
But it do
Cause I’ve got a talent
for Sniffing out
The drudgery
For sniffing out
The dark side
Wars colliding in my mind
Cause the army I built is
Only as good as the fort I built in front of them.
And this nose. This nose..
I’ve got a talent.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 23
read his stuff

n.b. nowadays I write here only in praise of others,
as the rewards are far greater than any of the meager
stuff I got  laying around.

a poem for his summer soul-stice

self-confessed to the priest, we us, both, meeting
in the confess-******, wee needy for a solid projectile
purging, me, cause, I’m a plagiarist of inspiration

**** it every time a ce r tain poet writes,
its a sock to my multi faceted square sided~head,
discoloring my eye shadow, my maskara crazy running,
frustration, admiration, mortar and pestle pounded

into a white powder of unadulterated adultery with a
frothy topping of a jealousy muse laughing face, at me,
cappuccino made from bitter herbs and pink sea salt.

in eight lines the man accomplishes
what would take me eight, eight full
poems, even then, not coming close

still failing to retake his brevity skills,
his summer solstice way of seeing,
by keeping the dark away,
by inviting the dark in,
making it under duress,
spill the beans of his life’s
ironies, some hellish,
some not, all well kept,
in Georgia granite stoney face.

the softest steeling of words that irritates
me into a fine frenzy... what’s the use,
point made, in how he undresses
the eyes
into just outright gasping,

and that is the only
permissible comment emoji.



Her verse
I need to taste the salt
of her soliloquy
be drunk on the sobriety
of her verse
those words she writes
behind my eyelids
makes me want
to crawl inside her skin
and listen to her heartbeat.


as a poet, knee’d & head bent, asking you Lord,
would it have soiled a vast eternal plan,
to throw some kosher salt, on mes écrits,

let a soliloquy make my case, my summer
soul-on-ice, hangover from the drunken sobriety
that stays, retained, the sense of loss remains
long after he has left my screen, and I’m

wondering if he gets him poems from that
old yellow dog, if true, no fair, but o.k., I’ll
take it right, any way, I can, **** it. and you.
Brooke P May 26
I’m being told to practice honesty,
so honestly,
getting sober kind of really *****
most of the time.
I take my medication every morning,
I go to my meetings at night.
I fill in the spaces with adjectives and nouns and bad reality tv.
I make my phone calls
and attend my appointments
and talk truthfully with the counselors
who have the same credentials as me.

But I float along on my “pink cloud”,
happy to not be bleeding out of my nose
or begging my racing heart
to please, calm down.
I feel things,
maybe less intensely than before
but in a real sort of way,
that isn’t filtered through
whatever I decided to numb myself with.
It’s not exciting, it’s not glamorous,
but I guess I’d rather live this way
than trudge through hell every day
and die a disappointment.
Jul's May 24
I wanna escape
To a place were there is love
Instead of everyone who don't believe in me
  There is a cape in my heart that needs to be filled
No matter what some one pulls me down
Right when I'm happy with myself
I have worked so ******* my sobriety
I just feel people in recovery understands me better
I am a better person now
I'm not in a fog nomore, an I'm not a push over nomore
I'm the one who's gonna win an the people
Who support me in it
Carter May 11
I keep saying that I’m going to stop using.
I’ve told my therapist and my friends,
but I start to get overwhelmed
and feel the need to relapse.

I make it one,
maybe two days,
before I’m chasing the high,
and ruining my life.

The longest I’ve lasted
was 25 hellish days.
But even after confessing,
I came back to my vice
NM May 4
I never confessed I had a problem,
I swore I had control,
"Addiction is not in my cells",
Until sobriety scared me more,
Than these pink pills themselves.
Relapsed since February.
I was recently sexually assaulted and faced many damages to my body that I cannot cope with and see as my new reality.
I often was too consumed to realize that now, going sober, that despite the illogical rationality that those pills were the only things that did not hurt, abuse, leave, or scare me., they were doing just that.
"They made me happy, gave me a new better world, energy and made me not have to see, hear and wake up and feel what I carried everyday."

But I would rather be human, than pretending to be one anymore.
I am tired, and as I write this these voices are killing me,
but it beats these ******* being my only company.
Joshua Notah Apr 29
Working on the tenacious tendency
To reduce myself and render me ruined
Describing the dictating feelings is dire
Sometimes I wish to go forth and set myself on fire

The firewater was a necessary fuel
For I can only burn from the inside out
The doubt, the drought of positivity
Were kindling enough to ignite the fright

That fear was a mere beginning
The story passed down from generation to generation
Resulting in a confrontation, an activation
Sometimes things must be incinerated

Then it can start again, become educated, bloom
"I hate myself" turned to " let's change thyself"
Laborious toil upon the charred soil
Brought forth the grounds in which to root

They say April showers bring May flowers
Though it's never told how hard it is to conjure up the storm
It takes something from within, the want of a win
Only me, myself and I can decide to arise
Not being able to go to my AA meetings has been tough. So I have decided to get creative on the days I would attend meetings. I am going to try and write a poem every Tuesday until my local meetings commence again.
Joshua Notah Apr 18
Sad days lie in wait
It's on those days that I create
A symphony of "what ifs" inside my mind
Like time can be turned back as easy
As it is on the watch on my wrist

Calculations of consequences come easy
When those consequences have been had
Past decisions determined to be detrimental
But they do not define who I am

Depression hits like bird **** on my shoulder
Random and a nuisance
Much like the burden of my drinking
Thinking things would change with the change
I spent on the Dark Eyes staring back at me

Connection to my feelings turned to self-reflection
Work that seemed pointless now brings satisfaction
Active participation helps me avoid temptation
Watching the seconds tick away deep in contemplation
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