“Read Out Your Good Book In Verse”

Red -

For blood, sweat and tears sacrificed,

Fighting with my minds’ dark demons…

“Month 1: ‘Have you read your Big Book?”

Orange -

Color of stark dehydration,

After so many drunken nights -

An Austin Quinceañera,

Borne from Sixth Street’s sweet decadence,

Math? Music? Madness? Masquerades?

What whimsies whet wild wanderlust?

“Month 8: ‘If life gets turned sideways,

We wait for an infinity…”

Yellow -

“Glad to be pissing clean and clear,

In spite of kidneys damaged when

A sweet Summer love fell apart -

My sour mind led to Fall’s sorrows.”

Eight years since - sixty days sober -

Fewer toxins, my kidneys fear…

“Month 2: ‘Urine’ the Program, Now!”

It's better, to joke, with gallows,

Than with strange “Hello!” puns: “Yellow!”?

Green -

True addicts - craving now, more cash -

And our tiger hides... changing stripes!

When we chase new substance to life -

We’re tempted again by fresh vice...

Our tiger lies, deep in our minds.

“Month 3: Overworked, underpaid…

I borrow chip quips from those friends:

‘The grass is getting greener!

Just don’t smoke it!’”

Blue -

Saddened, after my first decade;

Since some life goals went unrealized:

Years go by, pondering - “alone?” -

Did my mind lose pink clouds, clear sky,

Hear no birds, chatter, “bye” and “bye”?

(Now? I blew under “point oh eight”!)

I think it was year 5, when I,

And a lady I love and respect

Shared our stories at “our home group”.

What irony? Our shirts? Both blue!

Yet what tragedy! My aunt died

From medicines multiplying;

Mom called me, crying with her news.

(Half hour before, we shared our grief…)

My lady friend spoke first… shared well;

I think I wrote out my story -

Glad for both facts, after Mom’s distress.

I admire her - my twin in blue -

And her blue chip month pun holds true:

“Month 6: ‘Blue skies ahead,

No blue lights behind!’

Indigo -

I don't know? Pause here, for some thought...

Has society grown unique?

Once we clear away our symptoms...

Is it the mind? Is it the soul?

Did I drink to stall mania,

Or are our mood swings, drunk effects?

And, I... I curse Fall, twelve years in,

Another death - Grim’s senseless scythe!

Her last post ends with “Hope and love.”

Violet -

Are our brains still like dinosaurs'...?

Could they love "Barney", now sober -

What to do, when "Homer" drinks, still?

I’ve watched my child’s mind resurface,

While punning with colorful months:

“Month 9: ‘What do German AA's say,

When offered a tasty beer? Nein!”