Recovery

I just held a competition on addiction and the horrors that come with it and I read some great entries. Now I'd like to follow that up with reading about your recovery from addictions; challenges you've overcome, the joy and happiness you feel, what you do or have done to recover from your your addictions, how your life has changed in a positive way as a result, etc. You have one week.

Gemini

i will be back for this one!!!

Methadone a year and half later

It's been a year and half now  
off the drugs  
my personality a mystery to me.  
 
For thirteen years the drugs defined me  
gave me the warmth of the numb.  
 
Darkness reigned in my life  
everday it's still a struggle  
to see things right.  
 
I was upside down, inside out  
not seeing the drugs kept my mind in prison.  
 
Feelings are foreign and new to me  
learning who I am  
i'm still on shakey feet.  
 
The synthetic smack  
still calls my name  
"come lovely one i'll take away all your pain."  
 
As long as I had my drug  
I didn't care darkness was reigning  
making my soul of no use.  
 
I put on the the mask of the hard  
I pushed all thoughts aside  
I chose not to see.  
 
I revelled in evil  
thinking it loved me  
always there to show me a good time  
but when the chips were down  
and the piper had to be paid  
evil left me for death.  
 
Feasting off my soul as I were already a corpse  
nothing more then an educated horse  
meant to be ridden into the ground  
pounded on, beat on.  
 
I wonder now  
how I could have been such a fool  
to be used as a weapon of my own destruction.  
 
Learning who I am  
a frightning thing  
feeling, loving  
no drug to protect me  
but I will no longer wear the mask of the zombie.  
 
I want to know who I am  
no longer a puppet  
to a drug  
with its hand up my ass.  
 
The journey continues  
I will prevail  
methadone no longer my reigning king.

BORN AGAIN
“Recovery is the process of recovering who you were as a child.”
Kevin Everett FitzMaurice

Before the anxiety of emptiness
before the pain of re-birth
before the hot rain came
to wash me clean again
nothing but the endless circle of infinity
and the darkness of addictions
ruled me

But from this dark abyss
something new was torn
and through the healing flood of fire
and the cruel baptism’s flame
a long lost child, called innocence
was born
again

© Carlton Carr
http://othervoices.blog.co.uk

recovery is never final
always a fight on the daily
the urges to not hurt yourself
wanting to be "normal"
to never have scars that you do

bleeding daily
new cuts every hour
fresh blood was needed
the desire to hurt
never really went away

hurting on the inside
needing to release
everything
the secrets that i couldnt
speak.

the need to end
so many different things
the suffering that i
brought upon myself
a blood letting would do

i no longer bleed
i talk it all out
i walk it all out
i draw it all out
i release it all

i now have to explain
the reason there are scars
on my arms all over
never faiding out of sight
alway there forever

i am happier somedays
nothing will ever be perfect
far from it actually
i can smile now for once
and someday i will love

recovery is ongoing
never really ending
and i dont mind that
everyday is a new
achievement

THE ARMY

Fragmented pieces
of my past
come together
a huge army
of drunken revellers
armed and dangerous
they sweep through
the freshly planted
garden of my soul
trampling to death
all of the new tender
green growth of hope
And when all the prisoners
have been taken and
decency has been defiled
the abhorrent army
will return victorious
to its slumbering pit of hell
And I will once again
plant my garden
And pray that
they sleep well

Thank you for your entries. :)

I feel somewhat the heathen
with the taste of cigarettes and coffee
on my tongue,
but I know deep down
that I still did it.

I roamed bars,
hunted women
who I could never love.
Lived in books and poetry.
Sounds great doesn't it?
Bullshit.

I blushed when I was trying on those running shoes,
but no where near as much as I did
when I road tested them.
Still, it had begun.
The waste of space was nursing a hangover
in a stranger's bed
waiting for opening time
so he could excuse himself
with a dash the moment she needed to piss.
He couldn't keep up.

Now the gloves are on.
He's only around the corner
and he wants to fight.
He's been listening in:
Heard what the coach has told me,
he knows which punches get through.

I don't fight anymore,
not now I can.
It would be too boastful,
so I take him out for a beer
and I laugh at him.
"I can enjoy this
without needing it now,
and I know it kills you."

Thanks for your entry, Mr. Judas. We have some damn fine poetry here so far. Who's next?

I'm used to 30 or 40 entries in my comps. I figured, five should be easy to judge, but it wasn't. The top three were all great! Congrats to Emo1 and runner-ups, Panama and Sinful Criminal! Thank you everyone who entered!

-Gemini

Congratulations Emo1 and Judas for great entries

Thank you Gemini for a cool competition.. peace Crim

Congratulations Emo1 for the win

You're welcome, dear. :)

thank you for hosting.

emo1 said:thank you for hosting.

thank you for posting.

Honestly man, I reckon CruelHandedWriter had that won.

But you can't root him, aye Falco? ;)