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I am a recovering alcoholic.

quote by Patrick J. Kennedy
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Done And Over

You never knew what you meant to me.
But you found out.
But you found out.

I really loved you,
But you didn't believe me.
Now you found out.
To leave no doubt.

But I've moved on and you should too!
Whatever has been done let's call us through.
To be done and over,
Like an alcoholic sobered.

You never knew what you meant to me.
But you found out.
But you found out.

I really loved you,
But you didn't believe me.
Now you found out.
To leave no doubt.

But I've moved on and you should too!
Whatever has been done,
Let's call us through.
To be done and over,
Like an alcoholic sobered.
Done and over.
Done and over.

I really loved you,
But we're done and over.
There's no need for us to suffer,
'Cause we're done and over.
Done and over.
Done and over...
Like an alcoholic sobered.

I've moved on and you should too!
Whatever has been done,
Let's call us through.
To be done and over,
Like an alcoholic sobered.
Done and over.
Done and over.

You never knew what you meant to me.
But you found out.
But you found out.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pop Juice

You went there until you crash here
Then woken up to wonder where the night went
Keep breathing it'll come back again
Tonight will be different
We will all be saved
My name's Jimmy, I'm an alcoholic
And I have been for 33 years or more
So kill me, I will die without it
It's like this wherever I go
So we crashed down in BB's
Keep quiet because the question is elaborate
You need a lawyer, a doctor, a drink
To keep surviving
Keep me firing
My name's Jimmy, I'm an alcoholic
And I have been for 33 years or more
So kill me, I will die without it
It's like this wherever I go
I don't feel like going out
I don't feel like going out
Feel like going out
I don't feel like going out
I don't feel like going out
Feel like going out
Feel like going out
My name's Jimmy, I'm an alcoholic
And I have been for 33 years or more
So kill me, I will die without it
It's like this wherever I go
My name's Jimmy, I'm an alcoholic
And I have been for 33 years or more
So kill me, I will die without it
It's like this wherever I go
Do you feel like going out?
Do you feel like going out?
Do you feel like going out?
Do you feel like going out?
Do you feel like going out?
Do you feel like going out?
Do you feel like going out?

song performed by Gomez
Added by Lucian Velea
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Paradise Lost: Book 11

Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn
From his displeasure; in whose look serene,
When angry most he seemed and most severe,
What else but favour, grace, and mercy, shone?
So spake our father penitent; nor Eve
Felt less remorse: they, forthwith to the place
Repairing where he judged them, prostrate fell
Before him reverent; and both confessed
Humbly their faults, and pardon begged; with tears
Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign
Of sorrow unfeigned, and humiliation meek.
Thus they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood
Praying; for from the mercy-seat above
Prevenient grace descending had removed
The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh
Regenerate grow instead; that sighs now breathed
Unutterable; which the Spirit of prayer
Inspired, and winged for Heaven with speedier flight
Than loudest oratory: Yet their port
Not of mean suitors; nor important less
Seemed their petition, than when the ancient pair
In fables old, less ancient yet than these,
Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha, to restore
The race of mankind drowned, before the shrine
Of Themis stood devout. To Heaven their prayers
Flew up, nor missed the way, by envious winds
Blown vagabond or frustrate: in they passed
Dimensionless through heavenly doors; then clad
With incense, where the golden altar fumed,
By their great intercessour, came in sight
Before the Father's throne: them the glad Son
Presenting, thus to intercede began.
See$ Father, what first-fruits on earth are sprung
From thy implanted grace in Man; these sighs
And prayers, which in this golden censer mixed
With incense, I thy priest before thee bring;
Fruits of more pleasing savour, from thy seed
Sown with contrition in his heart, than those
Which, his own hand manuring, all the trees
Of Paradise could have produced, ere fallen
From innocence. Now therefore, bend thine ear
To supplication; hear his sighs, though mute;
Unskilful with what words to pray, let me
Interpret for him; me, his advocate
And propitiation; all his works on me,
Good, or not good, ingraft; my merit those
Shall perfect, and for these my death shall pay.
Accept me; and, in me, from these receive
The smell of peace toward mankind: let him live

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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Paradise Lost: Book X

Thus they in lowliest plight repentant stood
Praying, for from the Mercie-seat above
Prevenient Grace descending had remov'd
The stonie from thir hearts, and made new flesh
Regenerat grow instead, that sighs now breath'd
Unutterable, which the Spirit of prayer
Inspir'd, and wing'd for Heav'n with speedier flight
Then loudest Oratorie: yet thir port
Not of mean suiters, nor important less
Seem'd thir Petition, then when th' ancient Pair
In Fables old, less ancient yet then these,
Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha to restore
The Race of Mankind drownd, before the Shrine
Of Themis stood devout. To Heav'n thir prayers
Flew up, nor missed the way, by envious windes
Blow'n vagabond or frustrate: in they passd
Dimentionless through Heav'nly dores; then clad
With incense, where the Golden Altar fum'd,
By thir great Intercessor, came in sight
Before the Fathers Throne: Them the glad Son
Presenting, thus to intercede began.
See Father, what first fruits on Earth are sprung
From thy implanted Grace in Man, these Sighs
And Prayers, which in this Golden Censer, mixt
With Incense, I thy Priest before thee bring,
Fruits of more pleasing savour from thy seed
Sow'n with contrition in his heart, then those
Which his own hand manuring all the Trees
Of Paradise could have produc't, ere fall'n
From innocence. Now therefore bend thine eare
To supplication, heare his sighs though mute;
Unskilful with what words to pray, let mee
Interpret for him, mee his Advocate
And propitiation, all his works on mee
Good or not good ingraft, my Merit those
Shall perfet, and for these my Death shall pay.
Accept me, and in mee from these receave
The smell of peace toward Mankinde, let him live
Before thee reconcil'd, at least his days
Numberd, though sad, till Death, his doom (which I
To mitigate thus plead, not to reverse)
To better life shall yeeld him, where with mee
All my redeemd may dwell in joy and bliss,
Made one with me as I with thee am one.
To whom the Father, without Cloud, serene.
All thy request for Man, accepted Son,
Obtain, all thy request was my Decree:
But longer in that Paradise to dwell,
The Law I gave to Nature him forbids:
Those pure immortal Elements that know

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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I Admire Those Brave

I admire those brave,
And unafraid of their own shadows.

I admire those,
Whose lives have been enhanced...
By the act of taking chances.

I respect those who anticipate,
Their tomorrows with expectations.
And not spending a moment drifting,
Into a yesterday for a purpose to waste.

I admire the ones who inspire.
And they always seem to be...
Those recovering from despair.
And doing that successfully.

I admire those brave,
And unafraid of their own shadows.
The ones able to cover their bruises well.
The ones willing to listen.
Without sob stories to tell.

I also admire an acquaintance I knew,
Who had been penniless.
And yet in dire circumstances...
Managed to offer a bright eyed smile.

I admire the ones who inspire.
And they always seem to be...
Those recovering from despair.
And doing that successfully.

I admire those brave.
They assist unknowingly,
In maintaining my faith.
And everyday my steps are paced,
To lay down even stronger than before.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I'm a recovering alcoholic so I should be home.

quote by Kenny Hickey
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Mr. Speaker, as a grateful recovering alcoholic of 24 years myself, I am living proof that treatment does work and that recovery is real.

quote by Jim Ramstad
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I had to accept that I was an alcoholic, that was the main thing. I think you've got to. But I try not say that I'm an alcoholic. I prefer to say that it's a disease I've got.

quote by Paul Gascoigne
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ignoring A Belligerent Drunk

The man won't stop drinking.
Picking fights with his wife every night.
He thinks it is not an addiction.
He thinks it is not an affliction.
But I know better I've seen it before.
I've been down that road of misery, malcontent, depression, and anger.
To live without it is the sobriety that I think he needs.
But the only way to accomplish this is going broke indeed.
His wife could leave him and he wouldn't even take notice.
He is at a loss.
He doesn't know how to treat his friends.
He wasn't always this way.
He picked up a bottle and never put it down.
The alcoholic is no better then the heroin addict.
Their both out to destroy themselves and everybody else.
Sure their methods in the way it enters the body are different
But the effects can be equally catastrophic.
When the junky gets clean they will be alone and not easily trusted.
When the alcoholic gets sober they will be alone and not easily trusted.
Some mistakes once done are not so easily undone.
An excuse is only valid if it wasn't self induced.
Otherwise you are responsible like it or not.
With expectations abroad.
I can say I have taken the higher road.
It is sometimes lonely but it is the one I have taken.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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12 Steps of Bad Poets Anonymous

1. I recognize that I’ve written more trash than anything worthwhile,
And I’m therefore committed to change my ludicrous lifestyle.

2. I give my life up to the Bottle to grant me genius that I miss
And beg forgiveness of bad poets whose asses that I used to kiss.

3. For I’m powerless without it - the mighty strength of Alcohol -
That gives me boundless inspiration, while sitting in a toilet stall.

4. No matter how great the effort, I cannot write a goddamned thing
Without my daily meditation with an alcoholic drink.

5. I drink and I become awakened to all the beauty that’s within
Those sparkling ice cubes in my cognac, my vodka, whiskey, rum and gin.

6. I seek a moral higher ground within my realm of Alcohol,
That grants me peace and inner virtues, that I revere and extol.

7. Let’s drink away our shortcomings until our heads begin to spin,
Until we all become connected to our geniuses within.

8. Let our words become true hammers to dropp upon the sleeping minds,
To guide them from their lives of error, from pastures ignorant and blind.

9. Each day I make another toast to the Holy Ghost of Alcohol
And pray that it may give me guidance and peace to my tormented soul.

10. I’m no Byron, no Shakespeare, no Baudelaire, nor Rimbaud,
But every drink makes me immortal and fills me with supernal awe.

11. It’s when my Atman becomes Brahman, my inner I, the God within,
And I begin to feel that oneness with the Eternal Everything.

12. With every glass of wine and brandy, with every alcoholic drink
I change into the Master Poet, like Rumi on an angel’s wing.

August 16,2010

poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Flee On Your Donkey

Because there was no other place
to flee to,
I came back to the scene of the disordered senses,
came back last night at midnight,
arriving in the thick June night
without luggage or defenses,
giving up my car keys and my cash,
keeping only a pack of Salem cigarettes
the way a child holds on to a toy.
I signed myself in where a stranger
puts the inked-in X's—
for this is a mental hospital,
not a child's game.

Today an intern knocks my knees,
testing for reflexes.
Once I would have winked and begged for dope.
Today I am terribly patient.
Today crows play black-jack
on the stethoscope.

Everyone has left me
except my muse,
that good nurse.
She stays in my hand,
a mild white mouse.

The curtains, lazy and delicate,
billow and flutter and drop
like the Victorian skirts
of my two maiden aunts
who kept an antique shop.

Hornets have been sent.
They cluster like floral arrangements on the screen.
Hornets, dragging their thin stingers,
hover outside, all knowing,
hissing: the hornet knows.
I heard it as a child
but what was it that he meant?
The hornet knows!
What happened to Jack and Doc and Reggy?
Who remembers what lurks in the heart of man?
What did The Green Hornet mean, he knows?
Or have I got it wrong?
Is it The Shadow who had seen
me from my bedside radio?

Now it's Dinn, Dinn, Dinn!
while the ladies in the next room argue

[...] Read more

poem by Anne Sexton
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Alcoholic Blues

You're an alcoholic but not a smoker -
What else is there to say?
Your poetry is mediocre -
It's been another lousy day.

You used to think
If you had a drink
Your blues would go away -
But now you know that isn't true
So you haven't had a drink today.

Well done, old boy!
But there's no joy,
So what are you going to do?
You're dead inside, and lonely too
And bored and in despair.

Your fellow alcoholics care -
They say, 'If you choose
To turn again to booze
You've a hell of a lot to lose! '

You'd lose your peace of mind, I guess.
The answer's 'Yes,
But wouldn't it be nice
To ignore this sound advice,
To relax, chill out, and have a little happiness?

Or at least to write a decent verse,
Something pungent, moving, terse,
Transcending this alcoholic's curse! ! ! '

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Famous Moive Poem - Phantom of the Opera

do you cry
the night away
when laughters turn
into a bottle of sobs
of an alcoholic?
your warm heart
finding itself floating
on a lake of ice?

is the fabled tale
in the warmth
of your hands
slipping away
from your grip?
an opera singing
a dissonant tune to
your fantasy?
the director you seek
leaving you in a valley of wants?

is the phantom of the opera,
nipping you in the bud? your
legs tied, your smiles fraying
into an ridiculous satire?

you walk down straight
to the lake of salvation
only to find a ring of fire crackling,
cracking up your world

you wish to throw in the towel
only to find the towel flare
into flames, your aspiration
trailing smoke into a fearful
votex of disappointments

you quieten yourself
down to give yourself
a respite and slip into
a cave of privacy, kneeling
praying, kneeling praying
tears swelling a full moon tide

you call for the phantom
to intervene, to light up
the candles of your life,

to help you ride out the storm,
turn around the opera of afflictions
so that a rainbow arcs

[...] Read more

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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When I Booze

When I booze
I cruise into a world where I never win but loose
Losing momentarily every sight of my intellectual views
As I suffer from the undesirable up and down blues

Champagne, wine, beers and spirits I abuse
O! dear - There are so many alcoholic drinks to choose
And I speak of this as if it is news
But I do give the perfect snooze
While others stand by and accuse and provide undesirable reviews

When I booze
I hope my actions will be excused
For I could be a total screw
I know that this is bodily abuse
When I see one appear as threes or twos
And I talk like flies with their sounds of ooze
Leaving all those around me feeling very amused

When I booze
I become bold in the midst of my crews
Swimming in unearthly spews and in and out of loos
Demanding regularly my next mixture of alcoholic brew
I have even awoken to find myself covered in tattoos
And I'm always soberly left dazed and confused
As I try to digest and diffuse

But when I booze in moderation
Acquired is good health and life elongation
And I smile for I know
Tomorrow my livers will face no condemnation
And I shall stand and smile knowing that yesterday
I was no fool but rather I was a charming sensation

Copyright 2012 Sylvia Lovina Chidi

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Thank You Father - Prayer For A Healing

Father, first of all know how much I love you and appreciate you
in my life. Father you never leave me, always there to see me
through. This week Father you were ever present in not only my
life but that of my daughter and I thank you for what you did for
her this week. She now understands what I’ve been telling her
for quite sometime. There you were Father showing her what she
needed to see, giving her the inspiration she needed and filling
her with positive energy enabling her to go after her dream with
the gifts that you gave her so long ago. Thank you Father God for
always being present in my life.

Father I ask you to touch the life of a sister poet and her husband.
I know you know who I’m speaking of Father, so I won’t mention
any names. I speak of a sister poet who lives a difficult life dealing with an alcoholic husband, but you know Father she is
standing by her husband, taking one day at a time.

Today Father I pray for a healing for this man, help him to give up this addiction in his life, help him to see the light, to realize
what is happening to his wife, to know that he is going down hill
and needs to fight his way back into the real world. This man
Father God is living as you know, in a haze, so I pray for a healing.
I pray that you step into their lives and show them your power.
I know there isn’t anything that you can’t do, you’ve showed me
that over and over Lord, now I ask that you do the same thing for
this couple. She is tired Lord, tired of looking at her husband,
asking herself-why-. I’m sure this man wants to give up this
habit, but he doesn’t know how Lord, but Father with your help, he can do it. Father God he needs a helping hand. He has the
support of his wife and with your divine power and the blood of
Jesus covering them, they will find the strength to move on and
leave this alcoholic addiction behind them.
Father I ask that you talk to him, show him the way, inspire him to
want Jesus to be the center of their lives and to have a wonderful
relationship with you Father God. Only you can help these people Father, only you can tear away the dark covering and shed a bright
light within their lives. Father God, I pray for all others that may be suffering from this addiction, I pray that you enter their lives and give them a healing as well. I know you know best Father and
I leave this with you for you are the all powerful, the all knowing
and the master of the universe.

Thank you Father for everything you do, I thank you in the name of your son Jesus-Amen

Written: Sept.21/2007

poem by Melvina Germain
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I don't have to be like the rest

My dad is an alcoholic, and he hides it well
Thrown up against the wall, not knowing my last breath
My dad is an alcoholic, and he hides it well

I cut to relieve pain
They sent me to a 'loony bin'
I cut to relieve pain

My mom is never home
No clue when my next meal is
My mom is never home

My friends have all betrayed me
But I'm not complaing
My friends have all betrayed me

Everyone around me abuses drugs
Am I the only normal one?
Everyone around me abuses drugs

I DON'T have to be like them!
I will be the first to graduate highschool and go somewhere
I DON'T have to be like them!

I have goals in life, that soon will be complete
I will finish highschool, get a career, and have a family
I have goals in life, that will soon be complete

poem by Stephanie Lally
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Good seamanship is recovering from an incident at sea. Great seamanship is avoiding an incident at sea.

anonym
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Recovering from failure is often easier than building from success.

quote by Michael Eisner
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On a great coxcomb

(recovering from an Indisposition)

Narcissus (as Ovid informs us) expir'd,
Consum'd by the flames his own beauty had fir'd;
But N---o (who like him is charm'd with his face,
And sighs for his other fair-self in the glass)
Loves to greater excess than Narcissus---for why?
He loves himself too much to let himself die.

poem by Ann Eliza Bleecker from The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Lying is like alcoholism. You are always recovering.

quote by Steven Soderbergh
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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