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HomeArticles Posted by Ghostwriter (Page 3)
Poetry

Life Equation

San Francisco plus
twenty-something
plus romance breakup
equals cocktails.
Margaritas, gin.
New romances
schmucks plus
teaching high school
plus early thirties
bar hopping
independence equals
half a bottle of wine
most nights
sometimes
maybe more.

Subtract San Francisco
add Tucson
age 38 now
minus Tucson
add Davis
now age 40
plus four years
of grad school
add Masters
add PhD
add student loans
add two years
on the job market
tally subtotal
equals
daily drinking.

Subtract California
altogether.
Minus beloved home
plus North Carolina
nosy neighbors
Southern culture
“bless your heart”
fakery and “where’s
your church homes?”
Add years
subtract dear friends
family west coast
connections
add years gallons
and gallons of wine
floating up at times
on rising tides
other times keeping
something deeply
submerged.

Subtotal tally 62.
Add two weeks
in January 2023
another new year
then begin subtracting
liquor. Add days
since last wine
six
add nights
without drink
same six
lay down
pray
then add tomorrow
and tomorrow
and with any luck
tomorrow.

Tally sum
of this equation:
Life minus
liquor equals
a deep night’s
sleep tonight
plus tomorrow
the potential
for peace.

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Life Equation San Francisco plus twenty-something plus romance breakup equals cocktails. Margaritas,

Poetry

Alone

I feel so alone because I am different. There are others like me who are too scared to come out from the dark, afraid they will never be loved or accepted for who they really are. Rippled memories ingrained of being beaten, left heavily injured by other breeds.

I fell into the darkness when my twin flame lay upon the snowy mount, we only had time to whisper
“I love you”.
The loss of my sweet soul raged within me, a sound of thunder, an internal anger that I would never tame alone, or wanted to.
I carried the pain of my angel’s memory and I vowed never to surrender like the others. I fought everyone and everything, including myself.

I wandered alone, a silent wolf, searching for my pack to welcome me home.
I dared to dream, drifting aimlessly through the chill of night, that someday we would sit around the fire and share the call of unity together.
Sensing my lone wandering brothers and sisters near, crippled and twisted induced with an eerie feeling that death is near.

Within the circle, I find the others, feeling the coldness of steel surrounding us. Now caged, we fight between ourselves, the wild instinct raveging our very souls.
The reaper resides within us every day, we feel him from the moment we wake until we lay down. A mist of shadowy distorted figures surrounds, that splinter our vision and taint our sanity. We have become resistant to love.

As I rest with the others that are alone and afraid we now comfort each other. Longing for the ones never to return, aliken to a sense of thunder before the storm.
We look to a power greater than ourselves; we howl to the moonlight in the forest together. Warm and safe just for today, huddled around the fire.
I am home Iam safe and no longer alone.

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Alone I feel so alone because I am

Poetry

at 3:46am near light rail station on main & dobson

none of us has much of a past anymore
for that matter not much of a future
the streets are not something that you are ever on the streets are on you
they mark your dirty skinny
needing a shower
just always a little something missing
in the way you are dressed
the way your eyes move around the room
and of course there is always something missing from your story
why you have a college education
and don’t have a job why you don’t have a credit card or a number to be called back at
why are you a ghost
you don’t have an answer for why you are checking in to this hotel at 3am
and your ID says you are from the same city
you don’t have an answer for why you aren’t tired
for why you aren’t hungry in the morning
for the why you are so pretty and still single
why don’t you have any children
why are you a ghost
the streets are alive at least
they are always pushing you herding you
they keep you moving all the time
no place to rest
where someone isn’t staring at you
maybe to call the cops maybe to steal from you
maybe because you aren’t supposed to be here
the streets are the only home you will ever have where you will never ever belong.

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at 3:46am near light rail station on

Poetry

Im 18 years old now been doing for so long,

Im legally an addict sing me a different song,

Its only at the weekend im like every other man,

I’ll sniff it, smoke it, drink it, take any way i can.

When i get older ill knock it on the head, not like it will effect me or see me end up dead.

Im 21 years old now got my first baby due,

Once little one arrives, i know i will come to.

My daughters 3 years old now its only a weekend treat, i deserve to relax a bit and rest my tired feet.

Moneys getting tight now but its all ok. If 9 to 5 dont pay ill find a different way,

Im making lots of money, im age 25, im selling misery for profit ive never felt so alive.

Im laughing making money but my addiction grows and grows, im sniffing all my profit but that’s just how it goes.

Im 33 years old the last few years have been a mess, i got so far at this point but im starting to regress.

I know longer count my money but only my mistakes, i must kick this habit whatever it takes.

Im in intensive care its no longer just the coke, lost my job and family its no longer a joke.

My head is spinning sidewards i know longer want to live. Everyone is take and ive lost all i can give.

My true friends went a while ago im surrounded by scum, i miss my kids, my wife, i miss my dad and mum.

I overdose on everything i take a chance on death, i long for my end and to take my last sweet breath.

I wake up 2 weeks later my head is clear and true i dont want to die i no longer feel so blue,

Ive been given one more chance in life a miracle well and true,

The life i was living is not for me or you.
Im 18 years old now been doing for so long,

Im legally an addict sing me a different song,

Its only at the weekend im like every other man,

Ill sniff it, smoke it, drink it, take any way i can.

When i get older ill knock it on the head, not like it will effect me or see me end up dead.

Im 21 years old now got my first baby due,

Once little one arrives, i know i will come to.

My daughters 3 years old now its only a weekend treat, i deserve to relax a bit and rest my tired feet.

Moneys getting tight now but its all ok. If 9 to 5 dont pay ill find a different way,

Im making lots of money, im age 25, im selling misery for profit ive never felt so alive.

Im laughing making money but my addiction grows and grows, im sniffing all my profit but that’s just how it goes.

Im 33 years old the last few years have been a mess, i got so far at this point but im starting to regress.

I know longer count my money but only my mistakes, i must kick this habit whatever it takes.

Im in intensive care its no longer just the coke, lost my job and family its no longer a joke.

My head is spinning sidewards i know longer want to live. Everyone is take and ive lost all i can give.

My true friends went a while ago im surrounded by scum, i miss my kids, my wife, i miss my dad and mum.

I overdose on everything i take a chance on death, i long for my end and to take my last sweet breath.

I wake up 2 weeks later my head is clear and true i dont want to die i no longer feel so blue,

Ive been given one more chance in life a miracle well and true,

The life i was living is not for me or you.

Money is no god, drugs are not your friend. Family and good friends stay with you until your dying end.

Money is no god, drugs are not your friend. Family and good friends stay with you until your dying end.

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Im 18 years old now been doing

Poetry

Remember me?
We met at a party.
When I was much younger:
You were my best friends.
Always there to lift my up.
Always there to make me laugh.
Always there to help me not care, Nor to cry.
I was always the life of the party.
You numbed me from reality.
From the hurt, and pain inside.
You made me forget the bad, and only think of you.
You and the good you came with.
Or so I thought.
Because at the end.
You took more than everything away.you took… me

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Remember me? We met at a party. When I

Personal Journeys, Poetry

So many ppl around me are now deceased but i still managed to crawl into the belly of the beast ive lost my best friend to it and even my love and im lucky myself to not be sent up above they question to why i still followed this path well if u have the answer plz tell me bc i cant do the math maybe it was my mom who always made it seem to fun she seduced me with the habit every drug under the sun when i lost my loved ones i was left broken and bent for some reason im still standing must of never been meant The uncomfortable skin constant cold sweats one min on top the next buried in debts the ripping and tearing my family apart made me come to my senses pray for a new start i wont blame my mother she only wanted to keep us together and deep down i know im wired tp love her no matter the weather to wake up withdrawl free from dope really makes me appreicate living and fills me with hope So now its my time to shine like a star but first i must surrender to the evil black tar i know she owes me too but for my mom i. Have amends and ill stay headstrong and sober for my unfortunate friends Theirs a reason god let me stay walking this earth ill prove to them my ability to change and my worth so today is the day i lay all my beast to rest bc if not id lose myself again and have the heart ripped out my chest

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So many ppl around me are now

Personal Journeys, Poetry

Feelings
It’s November 18. I have just left detox facility for at least the fourth time. I’ve been to rehab six different times but right now I’m eating popcorn, watching television drinking a glass of wine. I don’t know why am drinking glass of wine I don’t want to be drinking this glass of wine. I don’t even like the way wine tastes , but here I am ,8 o’clock. Drinking a glass of wine

I’ve gotten paid money to play baseball. I have a masters of business degree and I have been a successful salesman, yet here we are, again. I’m not just the homeless guy is downtown making excuses. This is my excuse, and I don’t know how to deal with it.

Over the years, there’s been labels. Easy ways to identify, to sympathize , to try and understand. Those labels are not incorrect, but are unable to be understood unless truthfully worn.

I wish no one to have to wear that label.
For the label ruins things , ruins, life, it ruins people.

My family should’ve seen a grandson by now, running down those stairs. I don’t know if I’ll ever carry on the family name in.

I felt like I’ve grown up with a lot of responsibility even though I didn’t want it or know how to do it. But I feel like I’ve tried to get my family through things that not everyone should experience and I never move from Wheeling because if I did who would watch my grandmother, she means everything to me

I am writing this in tears, because in 39 years I could never properly identify my feelings or emotions. I don’t know how to live. I don’t know why there’s any questions to go through my head every night like…. what is wrong with me and what can I do? How do I stop this?? and on and on.

Yes I’m an alcoholic. But there’s something in there that’s more . There’s something more than just drinking/. if I knew what it was, I would tell you. there is intense distain for me myself in general Ive done nothing right my whole life. All I wanted to do was have a good time. All I wanted to do was party if that’s even what you call it it wasn’t really partying it was getting to a level that wasn’t me. I didn’t wanna be me I still don’t.

I’m 39 years old I have a dog. yeah I have a place but I have no job and I’m watching TV drinking wine and eating popcorn. What kind a live is that? one day I hope someone read this, and they can relate: sitting on the couch 39 years old, tears streaming down the face, not knowing why not caring why, just not wanting to be with their face

And closing, I just sit here, confused, and guilty to not have lived a life … too regretful to not have lived a life at all.

I don’t know how to express anything. I don’t know how to express thanks , I don’t know how to express gratitude, I have no idea how to say thank you to anyone. I find myself thinking about these things often.. why am I so
Flawed? but why do I have so many talents. I don’t really understand what’s going on in my head. No no that’s rarely not really. Maybe the most flowed can help the most vulnerable. Just let us help

—Justin edwards—- Popcorn

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Feelings It’s November 18. I have just left

Poetry

TekniColour

It happened that morning, as great gray held the sky,
We sat on the steps, and I made her start to cry.

Her jacket bright green, but Her mind laced with black,
As She drew life in circles, and She kept holding back.

Dull light in her eyes, Her God almost a stranger,
She was tip-toeing the tight rope and ignoring the danger.

I smoldered and told Her this Work needs Your action.
And She sighed and She tried but She couldn’t get traction.

I ravaged my resources, just how could I put this…
She was fragile but fighting with Her spiritual sickness.

So I prayed for His guidance, more compassionate care,
As the rain rattled down and the wind whipped Our hair.

I tough-loved and rough-talked, as the dark sky expanded,
And I pushed an ultimatum so heartfelt it landed.

If She knelt with some earnest, and allowed for some bend,
This could be a turning point, as opposed to an end.

As He gave us a storm so the earth matched the scene,
I told Her, this shoulder, was Hers onto lean.

But not to solve or resolve or to turn a blind eye,
If She wanted to live, it was more than not wanting to die.

She let go and let God, braved the truth and Her start,
Flipped Her spiritual switch, and She prayed with Her heart.

The world started to ignite, and We battled to explore,
As She felt her pain, found her lane, and gave substantially more.

Then We talked of the future, not what She’d survived.
And like Dorothy in Oz, some vibrance arrived.

The solution was honestly, not self-righteousness,
Immediately Her jacket, was not the only brightness.

At first We both balked, didn’t know Who to Thank,
Then recognized Our Gods, on that hard wooden plank.

I gained My new Strong One, We farewelled a Newcomer,
Her world dissolved its gray shade, and achieved Teknicoulor.

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TekniColour It happened that morning, as great gray

Personal Journeys

He has a big heart, He will get through.
I loved and prayed As I hung to my crew.
Alanon meetings
As blind as a bat, Stories we heard
A stench of a dead rat.
21 came, fireworks blasted
Handcuffed, DUI, as I pleaded for him to stop, He landed with yet another DUI drop.
The fear surged through my teeth, Hard to explain
The more I became withered in pain.
Flying him off to Florida, The experts advice
A sense of accomplishment, Money is no compromise.
Little did we know
He was drugged and hallucinating, He jumped off a bridge
In fear while escaping.
Our son is missing
Still rings in my ear
Begging the police with our worst fear.
In the parking garage,
Under a car,
He was rescued with a shattered leg, Sent to a hospital afar.

Another rehab began, Please help my son
Teach him not to use, Show him the 12 step plan.
Meanwhile, my parents overseas Knowing nothing of out trauma, Sailed to heaven with ease.
7 years flew by never expecting anything other, Addiction got his brother.
Couldn’t be
Where did we go astray? Have I sinned in my life? Do I have debt to pay?
Psychiatrists, therapists, here we go again, I honestly can’t recall the details today.
A jumble of fear, hope, incense to pray.
My boys are in rehab
My daughter is my soul
She got caught in the eye of a storm, That swallowed her whole.
Tell me to detach
I tell you ,I can’t
I’ll give them my life
In a moment without a rant.
Our hearts have been sickened, As we hold to each other tight, The future is a mystery
With the end a dim light.

I beg my lord
As I lay to sleep
Take me first
Before my boys leap.
Selfish? Maybe
Love too much? Yes
You can judge me as you wish, I grew scales like a fish.
Addiction is a disease that swallowed us whole
My wish is to strangle it
Leave life in peace,
faith,
With my children around my shoulders, Like a prayer Shawl.
2 years have gone by
I knitted my shawl, Fooling my brain
To think of nothing at all.
I heard of a meeting where parents of addicts attend, I’m not like them, they won’t understand, I can no longer pretend.
I gave it a try
And as some members remember, I cried my heart out
Not wanting to be a member.
I can do this alone
I don’t need a hand
No more shame to share
I come from a different land.

More rehabs for my boys
My brain is unclear and can’t remember Who? What? When? Where?
No hope for surrender.
Tuesday’s came and went As I ached for another, Who do I worry about?
My first born, or his brother
Little did I know
I was being equipped with strength and knowledge, That my addicts feared
As I learned to let go
And watch them grow.
I am a mother of addicts
I have yet to understand
Why god gave me these issues
Does he not know I hear his command?
With the 12 step plan
Life becomes more divine

The nectar of life become sweeter than ripened grapes on a vine.
So my friends
Life is hard whether you’re a parent of an addict or not Take it as a blessing
Find peace, love, purpose
That your life struggles are suppressing.
My boys are fighting
For their life and future
As I go to my Tuesday meetings
Listen, learn, and knit another prayer shawl For a family needing.

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He has a big heart, He will

Personal Journeys, Poetry

An alternative to guns.

A shiny marble stole my heart as it landed into a shrapnel crater
The joy it brought me as I huddled over its target was greater.
Just another day escaping our daily ritual
Hoping our name escapes the obitual.

An alarm went off as we scurried our muddy bodies home
A scolding we expected my mother to erase
As she hurried to warm the gas tank
washing away the trace
Of a shattered land.

Our home is unstable but with all due respect
We bowed to our homeland
That shed tears of survival
In the prospect of Jesus
Crossing to Cana with his arrival.

As shadows covered the valleys
Weary of what’s to come
Fed with pita bread Sandwiched with full bellies
we drifted to sleep feeling numb

Childhood?
My brain recalls it With images of popcorn
Keeping our mouths busy
For little bodies that shrapnels haven’t torn.

Those memories live through me
As an American I became
To pass down to my children
A new home I proclaimed.

That river that flowed in a bloody land
Connected with a flowery creek
that my children had at hand
Knowing little of that world
Where children are fed pita
Savory, not bland

Peace is granted in more ways than one
As danger crept upon us
In trophies to all or some
Privileged are our children
Escaping the physical shrapnels
Indifferent to none

It is the land of plenty
Opportunity, self confidence
Slow to acknowledge
It’s poisonous substance
Lurking our sons
Into a peaceful opulence
With a gloomy blanket for pain
An alternative to guns.

Rivers flow with good and evil
To the land of forgiveness
Or the medieval upheaval.

Those shiny marbles are our children
Sent forth through life
Juggling between villain and villain.

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An alternative to guns. A shiny marble stole