Poems By Dean B

Just Beneath the Surface

Just beneath the surface of her pleasant, winning smile,
Pompous and indignant, it's been there quit a while,
Comforting, reliable, it keeps her in the dark,
At least a million reasons and subtle quirks remark:
"Sure it makes a lot of sense!" she'll deal with it tomorrow,
Sadly now the curtain falls, why does this seem to sorrow,
A chapter ends, a twist of fate, what could be the purpose,
For most of us the painful truth, lies just beneath the surface

The Addict

The addict is a special case,
of feelings gone awry.
Alone, yes, in a crowded place,
perhaps a real nice guy.
Or gal, its not to say the least,
both fret in stereo,
Beauty or the savage beast,
they never seem to know.

The world is wrong, a bitter place,
but deep, way down inside,
He'd rather die, than lose face,
he'd rather run and hide,
Distractions are the easy route,
with drugs and sex and food,
Adrenalin, beyond a doubt,
crime and dice will do.

The child inside is safe, endured,
he'll grieve another day,
No more hurt, he'll make sure,
someone else will pay,
Someday, maybe things will change,
he won't have to live this lie,
He'll laugh and dance and shout and sing,
All the music trapped inside.

Meeting Night

By: Dean B and Darren B

We're obsessive compulsive,
good looking, repulsive,
Ever blameful with our faultless sight.

We're passive aggressive,
We're manic depressive,
We're even bipolar, that's right.

We're psychotic, neurotic,
Free wheeling, robotic,
But never on meeting night!

In God's Sweet Time

Late one night, some years ago,
a tempting bowl of cookie dough,
A taste or two... or so I thought,
one small pinch would hit the spot,
Later on ..... The empty bowl,
a heavy heart, a guilty soul,
That inner war, most quiet din,
had evidenced the latest sin,
So, where do all these memories go,
that perpetuate forgotten goals,
Of life serene and thoughts sublime,
'you do the time, you did the crime',
And on and on life took it's toll,
on self esteem, the highs, the low,
Until one day in God's sweet time,
I asked for help, and help was mine.

Recovery came in spurts and bites,
On habits past, now shone new lights.
For all alone, too big a task,
A daily chore, for help to ask.
A friendly voice came through the air,
O sponsor dear, can this be fair,
To give up all, how can I trust?
The fear’s too great, I feel I must,
Begin somewhere, perhaps today,
To trudge the path another way,
Pray read a thought or think to pray,
And meditate, though day by day,
To any lengths, I’m not so sure,
Through all the tears, is there a cure?
And then one day, in God’s sweet time,
I asked for help and help was mine!

That heavy cross that once I bore,
Has lightened now, a lesser chore.
I’ve learned to trust in tried and true,
I’ve learned to trust the good in you.
I’ve shared my pain, my hopes and dreams
And given up those selfish schemes
Of grander plans and thoughts verbose.
I raise my glass and drink a toast;
“A dozen Steps!” that line by line,
Most surely say, “His Will”, don’t whine
For better things are sure to come,
Life’s rythym now, a calmer drum,
Those fragile thoughts are overcome,
The struggles’ past, “Thy will be done.”
And still today, in God’s sweet time,
I ask for help and help is mine.

Recovery Tastes Sweeter

Give up the Sugar, who me.
Well, a sweet tooth
Runs down... my family tree!
But, one bite of sugar means ten!
So giving it up sure makes sense!

It all boils down to how much I want it,
My recovery tastes better,
I better not taunt it! ....