
2 minute read
Poems by L. Murphy
MY FIRST STEPS
My first steps being sober are very hard for me. Meaning, trying so hard to stay clean. 20+ days clean and still climbing. Oh well. What can I say but keep moving forward and stay out of the way of the wolves, so to speak. I really don’t believe in the 12-step program ‘cause it’s not for me. Well, I can relate to the first step: Admitting that I did have a problem with the drinking and drugging. 40 years old and very glad that I’m still here and keeping out of the people, places and things... But come on, now. Where else can I go if I don’t have those three areas of my life, OK? My first steps... well, it’s like crawling all over again. When you’ve got to start walking also and living, respecting yourself, loving yourself, and your surroundings... Once you’ve got that, you’ve made it.
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L. Murphy
I WAS, BUT NOW!
I was a smoker. Not a cigarette smoker, a crack smoker. Sneaky, but smart in everything I did—or at least I thought so. Wondering, and wasting time, money. Hurting feelings, but did I care at that time? Of course not. I was invincible. But now I’m clean for the moment. I was a drinker. Not a part-time drinker, an alcoholic drinker. Every chance I got I needed it— meaning a drink. Waking up with pain in my throat, dry as hell coughing up dust, so to speak. Rollin’ over to the other side of the bed, reaching down to the floor— Oh, there you are, my morning ritual, my lover my throat-healer my whatever-the-label-of-the-bottle-I-didn’t-care. As long as it was a good pick-me-upper. Did anything for it. I was a mess, but now I’m clean for the moment. You see, I was a mushroom-eatin’, ecstasy pill-swallowin’ special K line sniffer addict and at that time proud of it. But now, I’m clean for the moment. I thank God for that. I’m not upset for what I did in the past. That’s the past. I’m moving on. I will be hurt and upset if I pick up again. So I ask you all, just pray for me....
L. Murphy
DAMN, I’M GOOD!
Looking in the mirror glaring at myself— wow! My mother did a good job. She created a masterpiece of art. Like a portrait using nothing but fine, smooth brushes going up and down, not missing a spot at all: Along with colors of golden brown, caramel color figures topped with a daze of bedroom eyes that’s attached to a hellafying personality which, if not taken seriously, will daze one with passion, mind-boggling confusion of thoughts on what to do next changing the moment in time. You will experience a love like no other. You will want it. You’ve got to have it. You’ll thirst for it. And if you act right, you will get it and like it. I know this, ‘cause this is who I am— an Afro-American brother who so happens to be gay, who can be a good lover in or out the cover. Don’t be afraid, look at me. This is what you see. Look me up, OK? Damn, I’m good....
L. Murphy