Poems by Sabrina Thomas (a.k.a. Beanie

Poems by

Sabrina Thomas (a.k.a. Beanie)

GOD’ S POWER

God has given me the sense of life’s gift. Which is the sense to hear, to know that my God is near, to know His voice. He has helped me make a lot of wonderful choices.

God has given me the sense to feel, to know He’s real. And I have the sense to deal with what’s real, I know.

God has given me the sense to see, to know He’s truly a greater part of me. I have the sense to be blessed and free and yes, He’s a part of me, this God has let me see.

God has given me the sense to touch, to know that God has given me so very much. And with God’s power, He’s worthy of my mind, heart, body, and soul. He has blessed me with a strong mind and will. And for that, God’s power is forever real. And having the power to see, feel, hear, and touch. Yes, my God has truly given me so very much.

CHILDREN

Children—when they’re born we feel so worn, yet parts of us are torn, yet the beauty of your child being born.

Children—when they’re going through the toddler stage, it’s crazy, but that’s another page.

Children—when they’re going through the part of life when they ask the same question twice— it makes us want to understand the worth of our creation to the earth.

And then it’s the teen-age stage Once there, it’s a new level of life. And it’s no asking questions twice.

And then they become adults, making decisions, having the ambition to conquer missions. Not washing their dishes. Yet, as a mom, we ask God and ask for wishes. Yet hugs and kisses.

Yet the love of a mom never misses the beauty of a child.

And then they have their own children. And on and on, the beauty of a child being BORN.

Poems by L. Murphy

I’M SCARED AS HELL

I’m scared as hell! Scared as hell! I mean, when I walk out this building, when it’s time to leave, if I turn left, will I see my past that’s continually haunting me? Or if I turn right and choose to go to a meeting.... What to do? I’m scared as hell! Scared as hell! When I choose to go to a meeting will I meet the right people that are willing to help me through my pain and suffering or will I be conned into thinking my old way of stinking thinking? Where to turn? I’m scared as hell! Scared as hell! If I don’t think the old ways of stinking thinking and follow the Twelve Steps, step by step by step.... Will my life change if I get right? Live right? Do right? Walk right? Think right? Will I win this battle of not using?

I’m glad to be scared as hell, but by faith, love, and strength in myself I won’t pick up— and that’s worth being scared for.

THE SPIRIT OF IT ALL

When we say the word “spirit,” do we mean the spirit of it all or the spirit of having a good drink now and then? No... I mean the spirit within yourself. Being at peace, having the will power to do things and go places and live life on life’s terms. See, my spirit is great because I know myself very well and am willing to do whatever it takes to get what I want—and how I want it, OK? The spirit of it all is just knowing when to say “enough is enough”— for me, that is. The spirit of it all is just moving getting, and striving forward in life to reach the goals that need to be met. For me, that is. The spirit of it all is just loving, and caring about yourself, and after that, then you can give it away without asking for anything in return.

MY JOURNEY

Knowing what I want to do. Knowing what I have to do. Tells me that my life has a purpose and that is my journey... Being clean is an easy mission. Staying clean is a transition. I mean havin’ to start all over again by taking baby steps... One foot in front of the other and that again is my journey... Thinking of what to do next can be very hard, you see, but if you’ve gotten this far and come to this place, you’ve already made it. ’Cause I did, ’cause this is yet another journey. My journey....

LAST NITE OF THE YEAR

Last nite of the year— I prayed—victoriously scared— that my present would become the past. My heart ran triple its normal pace. Wondering if I should take a Seroquel or two just to calm down a spell.

Last nite of the year— I prayed—victoriously scared— imagined that a mob of drug dealers was chasing me with sticks and bottles to claim money that I no longer owed them. My debt was paid in full.

Last nite of the year— I prayed—victoriously scared— I felt I was a prisoner in my own house where I had to ask myself, “Can I go outside into the world with my brain being the warden— would it be OK?” I shed a tear.

Last nite of the year— I shed that tear, the final one for that year, took a deep breath, prayed no more victoriously scared, but victoriously still. Now I know God finally heard my prayer. I finally woke up to reality. Victory!! is the war that I have won.

RECOVER…

Trying to learn how to recover— I can’t front—drugs was my “lover.” I’ll fight, shoot, and even kill for “my lover,” Damn right, I will… My first “lover” was named – Old Gold. I was in love at 13 years old. She made me feel strong and gave me hope, She let me make out with her friends— one’s name was Coke. We would go to clubs, even house parties, where I met this girl by the name of Bacardi. And Old Gold was still there, but sort of a tease, So I chilled with this joint let’s call her Weed. She made me laugh at stuff that wasn’t funny— not like Coke—I’d still wake up with money. But the money I lost, I’ll get back by pimpin’ this hooker by the name of Crack— she made me mad cheddar so now I can treat all the others better. She wanted me, And I wanted her too… But the others said “Mess with her & we’re all through.” So I’ll sneak around with her, a little taste. She couldn’t wait ‘til I went to first base. She wasn’t funny, but she got my hype, I never felt it ‘til I hit “the pipe.” I said, “Forget the others, she’s the prize.” I wish I would have known THEY WERE ALL LIES! She took me places I thought I’d never go. She flipped the switch and made ME her “hoe.” I’d go out all times of night looking for her while chasing the pipe. Get her! Use her! And fly out the door, ‘cause the pipe was empty –I needed more. SAD, I wasted the life my Higher Power gave me— rather feed the pipe than my own baby.

Poems by

Adam Williams

3 MONTHS CLEAN

Nothing gonna take me out this time because recovery is always on my mind. I did this, I did that, I said I did it all. And if I want some pooty I just make a call. I don’t do it cause that can be my downfall. One day back I’ll be saying in front of all ya’ll I feel bad I mean mad because I lost it all. It didn’t matter what season—I always fall. Tell the truth we are youths in an adult game. Because of anonymity I can’t attach a name. I’m not scared if I’m dared I just moved away. I’m like an oak tree in a pail of hay. Some people say keep coming, well I say just stay and with the 12 and 12—that the only way. Not just say the 12 and 12, but live it. Just like in Step One when we had to admit it. Tell the truth to the youth: there’s something greater that can restore sanity now or later. Recover—that’s what I’m about, I’ll be damned if I let a chick take me out.

WHAT’S LOVE

What do you feel—is it Love or Infatuation? ’Cause when it comes to love, I have no education. The first can be the last, the last can be the first, the new can be better, and the old can be the worst. How do you control emotional feelings when your heart’s all with it but your brain’s not willing? Then your heart takes over and lets your emotions fly, then your heart gets hurt and asks your brain, “Why?!” It’s not your heart, your brain, or nothing else: You can’t love no one until you love yourself.

DON’T JUDGE

Those you judge just don’t count Today you’re judging me, tomorrow drinking 40 oz. Now you walk around here with your ass on your back Say you drink beer but you don’t smoke crack Walk around the streets you’re a wannabe thug NA taught me alcohol was a drug Crackheads might come in your house And steal your TV, but alcohol fucks up your whole body Me, I’m not saying one drug is better than the other Beer was my lover Crack was my mother Dope was my cuz’ And weed was my dad When I want to get away from them I go to rehab When I go to rehab they want me to come home— they will be calling me without using the phone

Poems by

Steve Lewis (a.k.a. Latin Gorilla)

Because of you I write... Your dreams inspired me to push... Allowing you to hear me— if not my cries, you read between these lines. It’s everyone who’s walked these same streets. We know the bumps and cracks in our streets. They say they understand. My head hurts from the bump. And the never-ending stories... How many bridges must I buy? Walk in my shoes down this path. There seems to be no light. So push your pens and make the world scream... I will not go out without a fight.

Thanks, Mom.

SILENCE

I sit in Silence just to hear the streets talk. Same shit, different day. The corner-dwellers grind hard just for footwear and body gear they can’t even spell. What the hell? Can’t they understand it’s hard to make a dollar out of 15¢? A penny saved is a penny earned for tomorrow’s plate of rice and beans— dreams, hopes, and prayers down the drain. A child is born, no state of mind, blind to the ways of mankind. Screams for God. But no answer physical is there. But drain from the game, only just one more, that was three weeks ago! Sold her soul just to take a trip on the Enterprise. Pillow stays wet from the endless teardrops, Pops left where he stood, tears cascade out both eyes, knees bleed from the rug burns. Still no answer. Can I at least get an angel in my corner?!

Poems by

Lawrence Taylor

PHOENIX RISE OUT OF ASHES

I rise out of the ashes once again. Unlike before, I rise strong, vibrant, and rich. My best dream and my glow are radiant to see. Oh god, the heat is burning like the summer sun! The chains you place on me are melting and I’ll soon be free. So watch out, it’s my time to die—my dance once, twice, and three times. Remember, the day’s end is near and playing time is over till tomorrow, when it’s time to have fun again!!

THURSDAY WRITING

A new Thursday visit to see a very beautiful face. It’s another Thursday, with no disappointment I see all my peeps and they’re on coins like big faces. My penmanship is doctored for my understanding There is no reason not to dream it just seems the alteration of signs. For I just dream-seek, and hope for another day for another Thursday for my coins in the league of writers to scribe there my ideas on paper.

I’M WAITING FOR DAY TO FALL

I’m waiting for day to fall so I can receive her call. I’m not at home or near a phone. Looking at the sun drop and that distant smilin’ night ahead, that shines so bright. This includes background lights in the twilight. When I reached home, she was there wearing my smokin’ jacket. It had a nice contrast with her skin, along with her hazel eyes and silver hair. She was smoking my favorite cigar, a routine for that day of the week. Now the night is gone—time to wake with the alarm ring.