recovery

Your Temper is My Poison

There’s chow littered on the staircase floor.

I scramble to clean up the spill before it’s all consumed

By the cat that brought the family bad luck since the late spring.

 

Here I go, like I always do,

Holding my tongue on the job

While I hear you shout

While I hear you try to crush me

While I hear you goad me to scream.

 

It confuses me why an act of kindness and good intentions

Can wrought so much volatile sentiments.

I’ve been hesitant to feed the little one because I don’t know his tastes.

Never did I anticipate that her gluttonous habits are what triggers you.

Or is it he? Wow. Just wow.

 

Anger does wonders to the hippocampus.

My curiosity about how long you’ll live after that squabble fascinates me

But it concerns me at the same time.

Mad people live shorter lives than those that can stay calm when there’s an inconvenience.

 

To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.

To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.

And your temper is my poison.

 

Just today, while hitting the road, I thought we’d find common ground.

Keeping our cools while the mama cat is away

And a kitten comes out to play

Before it helps us seek four crystals in need of recovering.

 

When all that is done, I thought we’d go out for

Bagels and quiche for old time’s sake.

I enjoy the little interactions and activities when your temper is below zero.

 

Sadly, tonight once again broke the streak

That counted consecutive days we got along.

This always happens growing up, yet I never see it coming.

 

To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.

To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.

And your temper is my poison.

 

If you think the black cat is getting pudgy,

Why don’t you take a look in the mirror?

You’ve put on more pounds than she did.

Or he did? How did you get the genders mixed up in the heat?

 

I guess anger does wonders to the hippocampus.

You’re the reason why I have to keep my temper in check.

And why I prefer tears over beers.

All for the sake of my own well-being so I don’t turn out exactly like you.

 

Your temper is my poison and I won’t let it fester.

The only antidote to my ailment is knowing that I’ll be out of this roof

Happier than I was living under it just like I was for the past two years.

 

I know that as a guppy, Mother said to be considerate of you and

I was told that deep inside, you do care.

Sadly, it’s excruciatingly difficult for me not to judge this book by its cover.

I just can’t pry it open to see the pages no matter how hard I try to interpret your rage.

But if this little message hurts your feelings,

It’s a dish served hotter than the volcano in the back of your head.

 

To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.

To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.

And your temper is my poison. It will always be my poison no matter how old we get.

Money is One Heck of a Stimulant

Your deceit has polluted the rivers near your villages.

The very rivers that its people rely on for drinking water.

A sip of that poison ignites a plague that turns friends into foes and kin into fugitives.

But where is the antidote? Why do your people continue to fall ill?

It is locked away along with the fortune you made from the production of your deceit.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

 

I’ve been away for a long time to know why I’ve been wrong before.

I had beat a dead horse and gave CPR to two that had cancer.

I should have known that it was not worth it if the doctors were not going to help treat it.

I was an ignoramus. They have all the knowledge that the world had to offer.

So why not share it with the ambitious and give new life to these once noble steeds?

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

 

I long reminisced about a time when the doors were open to tons of villagers with potential.

It was a world that I wanted to be a part of since I was a guppy not yet exposed to mathematics.

A potato infected by a blight and stabbed me warned me that the chief doctors were monsters.

A poor surgeon who tried repeatedly to receive a raise vanished, was slandered, and never seen again.

A coordinator found a shady message in her contract that forbade arbitration and fled to another kingdom.

And I recently heard that the one coquettish nurse was expelled over scrutiny from her personal life.

Why, Dr. Kim? Why do you egg your personnel to choose sides when there are lives that need rescuing?

Can’t we all get along and lay down our weapons? It’s easier to negotiate than to wage war, but no.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

 

People lose their minds when they fall in love. It’s not just me. It’s a fact of life.

I lost mine to a mongrel who shut me out after a few months and lied directly to my face.

A good friend that I had regretfully wronged had given the doctors the deceit that tainted the rivers.

A clever herbalist that craves drama knows how to brew tainted water to make it appear crystal clear.

Not everyone knows that making up stories to sweep malpractice under the rug is a gold mine.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

 

The coachman that brought me to this place can call me a whiny little boy if his mood fits.

Just like the kid who offered sage advice to the chief doctors on how to break down barriers.

But that judges the coachman's character more than mine.

It’s an fyi that looks terrible just because he’s wearing it.

But hey, why bother listening to advice that’s more expensive than one’s pride?

The doctors’ salaries are too low for them to spare a dime to make that change.

That’s why there’s never room for improvement nor for sharing in their greedy hearts.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

 

I am terribly sorry that your folks never taught you that what goes around comes around.

That your hidden crimes will come back to bite you when you too become penniless.

When you one day get a taste of your own poison when you drink the river you tainted.

What does your life have in store for you afterwards? Can you sleep at night again?

Will people still care when the doctors go their separate ways? What about the pollution in the river?

I will not return to the filth you created to clean it because in the end, the deceit would be even worse.

To change your practice for the better was my greatest wish until I found out how unethical you are.

Now it is to build a fortune of my own so the artist that my heart beats for can have a bite to eat.

That is the change that you will never see because you are too comfortable smoking the dough you baked.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

Life is bigger

Life is bigger

By jfarrell

 

 

(inspired by REM’s “losing my religion”)

 

Life is bigger than me.

Bigger than everything I am;

My hopes, dreams, hurts, pains, disappointments…

Whether I die tonight, or fifty years from now….

Life, the World, and everything in it will continue….

Life is bigger than me.

 

And, yet, somehow,

Whether I die tonight or many years from now….

My life has been as important as that ant you just crushed,

Or that dandelion, blown away on the breeze;

Every happening has a cause and a consequence;

However insignificant, I made a difference.

 

You must realise, life is bigger than you;

I have no children, no legacy, nothing invested;

Most of you do.

At nearly 50, I hope whatever I’m here for I’ve done;

I just wanna go,

There’s no point for me.

 

But there is a point for you - ALL OF YOU!

Your children must inherit a better world;

They’re your children,

Not mine.

I realise life is bigger than me, and I’ve done my part;

Life is bigger than you, realise that.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i lost my religion before i was born :) then opened a bottle of beer and found a new one

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Voices

Voices

By jfarrell

 

 

My first can of beer, or glass of wine,

Speaks to me;

She cries of how lonely she is, “Please don’t leave me all alone,”

And who could refuse such a damsel in distress;

So, with all the dignity of a Knight, preparing for battle,

I bravely open another.

:-)

 

The second can sings to me a sad song,

Full of failures and weaknesses, my failures and weaknesses,

And like George before the dragon I am driven to my knees.

I thrust, I parry, but this dragon is too much.

Then I hear my Siren; she sings to me from the third can,

The Popeye theme tune

:-)

 

And I know what I must do!

Like a can of spinach, I crush the can and catch the geyser;

With each caress of the beer, my clothes rip,

As my muscles grow

And Sir Drunkalot is to the rescue.

:-)

 

The answers may not be at the bottom of the glass….

But I have a hell of a lotta fun checking;

And I love my Sirens, their singing is so beautiful;

Drown, I will, willingly, again and again,

To chase my Sirens to the bottom of the glass.

:-)

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

;-)

you all hear the voices too, don;t ya? :)

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Walk in my shoes, then judge me

Walk in my shoes, then judge me

By jfarrell

 

3 months short of my 50th birthday;

My sister, we telephone on birthdays, for 10 minutes;

My last friend, I invited him to my 50th birthday party….

My first ever birthday party; he says…

don’t be so negative at your birthday party…

Guess that party’s cancelled.

 

I have no friends or family;

I work, I sleep, I work more;

I’m not horrible person

I’m not the lowest common denominator,

Though I thought I was , for a long time

 

You see me dancing on the tube;

Lost in me own personal concert;

Madman, weirdo, freak;

If I’m about to be blown up by a bomb,

I’m gonna die dancing

 

What possible right could you have to judge me?

Walk in my shoes for a week…..

None of you could….

That incessant need to talk, gosssip,

Fill the silence with meaningless platitudes

 

Alone!

Silent!

Only myself, the radio and the cats to shout at.

None of you would last one single week.

But, at 49, I’m still here.

Sadder than all of you? Or stronger? Madder?

And what does it or anything matter?

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

yep, sorry, recovering drunk spewing up everywhere, very sorry for offence caused

Still Standing

Still Standing

By jfarrell

 

For me,

It’s childhood rape and violent child abuse;

For some,

It’s drugs, alcohol, food, stealing;

For some,

It’s cancer, organ failure…

Horrendous stuff I can’t,

And probably, don’t want to imagine.

 

But

WE ARE STILL STANDING, STILL HERE!

Today sucked less than yesterday,

But,

You know what?

It was an improvement;

However unnoticeable, however slight it was.

We are still standing! You, me, all of us.

 

And,

It may be all you have right now!

I know 20 years I tried to kill myself;

And I’m still standing;

Lots of you are like me, despite how alone I feel;

We are all STILL standing, after all this time;

Survive? Stop standing - walk!

One step in any direction, and keep walking.

 

Fuck surviving!

I deserve;

I’ve worked and sacrificed for a life!

Not to survive.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i deserve a life! wife, kids, and donuts! i'm sick of being a survivor, i demand more :-)

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Labels

Labels

By jfarrell

 

I lost mine for a long time,

But labels define us; me, certainly;

Dad, mum, lawyer, thief;

What we do, what we call ourselves, define us.

 

I used to be a nursery officer,

I worked with young children,

For those unfamiliar with the term,

Then I was ill, and had no label for a long time.

 

For 17 years I was nothing, maybe still am;

Waste of space drunk became my label;

Mentally ill, depressed, this abbreviation and that abbreviation;

None of them defined me, just made me feel useless.

 

Now, I’m like a duracell bunny;

Some days I’m a barman; some, a waiter;

And I’m stretching labels in between;

I have a definition, a purpose, after so long.

 

Important labels I don’t have;

Father, husband, friend;

But, I now have a label that gives me definition;

Note to self: THIS IS NOT THE DESTINATION!

IT’S ONLY THE BEGINNING OF THE JOURNEY

 

Thanks all for listening :-)

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

break on through to the other side, break on through, break on through - the doors i think, or i maybe thinking of  wrong song, hehe

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Re-Recovery

I no longer yearn for the yearn of another.
Today, nothing has changed but the date of a page.
Tomorrow will be as promising.
A week from now, the universe might invite me out.
I have tried.
I have tried to compose a confident reply,
I have tried.
Perhaps I’ll have extended time.
Perhaps in a fortnight, I’ll reply.
I no longer yearn for the yearn of another.
Today, I’ve witnessed nothing new but the arrival of noon.
Tomorrow will be as fulfilling.
A month from now, the universe might ponder where I’ve been.
I have tried.
I have tried to compose a viable lie,
I have lied.
Perhaps I’ll discover the time to apologize before I die.
Perhaps I’ll discover the time to die.
I no longer yearn for the yearn of another.
I only contemplate the use in having recovered.
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The Inner me

The Inner me

By jfarrell

 

Like Dorian Grey, my face looks normal; nothing remarkable;

My arms and torso, always hidden, would reveal a little;

But I always stay covered, I need to hide those marks of my life;

Like Dorian Gray, the inner, hidden-in-the-attic, portrait;

There my life is captured, and stored, in glorious technicolour.

 

The night I cut my wrists; that first overdose of sleeping pills;

My rape when I was 5; another cut, another pill;

My mum’s infidelity; another cut another pill;

Every violence by my father, everytime I was bullied at school;

Another cut, another pill.

 

On the outside, I am unremarkable, instantly forgettable;

But, my hidden portrait;

One look will haunt you, forever;

It’s very horror would scar you, taint you, forever.

I just wish I had the guts to live as selfishly as Dorian Gray. Sometimes.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i'd very much like to be a different shade of grey please

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