The Turning Point

Turn Around, Boy

As wild child
he rode the trails on
horse named “Silver”
Yup, as in Hi-Ho

After--still a wild bloke
first of his peers
to drink booze, smoke,
and enjoy solo sex.

In first grade, engaged
in the second, it was said
...he wed.

Skip many years
thousands tears.
Bodies, hearts,
bloodied, broken,
mended not...

One fine morning
in strange city
after playing several days
with chic kitty,

Sadly rode away once more.
Silver now had two wheels
upon which he soared,
leaving behind a sweetness.

Into mobile he mouthed
“I wish to come back.”
She--”Where do you live?”
“In the south”, spoke he.

“Sir, turn your bike around,
 face the southern sun.
And RIDE, Clyde—RIDE!
Never you roam from home.”

Wild child no more 
rode 'til his ass was sore.
In every life, strife...
In decision, indecision.

AH! Those turning points--
which way to go?
To the north a cliff
straight down to hell?

Kept on keeping on.
Still sober in October
To face sun's heat
...and more.

True life
is of the soul--
not of self, now old
as chunk of mold.

Former deviant,
my body a gift 
which GOD had sent;
a thing borrowed...
and lent....

steveroni
2011

IN THE IMAGE AND LIKENESS

LOVE

What else so vital
as that which is the only?
And unrequited

Does Creator feel?
He--Who gives and gives as we
live lives unreal?

--steveroni, July 29, 2015

Detox..Thoughts

Originally posted Friday, June 26, 2009  on

 steveroni.blogspot.com

DEE-TOX! A FEW THOUGHTS

Now that it is Friday, I am particularly glad to be home, for it is my night to attend a small meeting at "detox". This is a locked area of room-and-board in Naples where people go to slowly have removed from their bodies whatever they were using to make themselves 'feel good' (Detoxification!).

Average stay is usually 4-6 days, and so if I see any of them more than once it would be at an AA meeting, or when I pick them up to go to a meeting. A guy asked me this morning (at 6:30 AM) "Why do you take meetings to Detox--after you've been sober 35 years?"

Good question! "I really don't know. I've stopped asking 'Why' about AA work. It's simpler to just do it, whatever it is."

(LATER, to myself) Wait! I DO know why I feel drawn to detox for a meeting. That is where it seems to begin, for some. For me, I need to observe that beginning stage of "soberism".  Many years of sobriety can create a tendency to become distant from "What it was like".

Sure, I attend usually two meetings a day, Big Book, Step, and Tradition meetings each week.  Even with some service work, I still find that NOTHING brings my chronic, fatal disease so close to home--to reality--as meeting those suffering their first days and nights in a Detox unit.

This is where the hair of the bow meets the violin strings. WITHOUT that 'meeting' there will be no music played. THAT'S why I feel blest to be allowed to share my Experience, Strength and Hope with newcomers.

At Detox tonight were 6 patients, and six of us from outside. Of the incarcerated six, two slept, one said he never had a drink in his liar--oops, I meant LIFE! And three seemed as if they thought we'd meet again.

After the meeting--outside--the six of us (I recall Megan and Alma and Jerry) shared another thought--we knew we had been where we were supposed to be for that hour tonight! Thank You, God. Thank you, AA. Thank you, Blogger Peeps!

In love and service,
Steve E

THE WAY TO LOVE by De Mello

THE WAY TO LOVE 

by Anthony De Mello is less about acquiring, more about "letting go", ALL about love. Several of us meet each Tuesday or Wednesday at Starbucks for a read-and-study session of this wisdom of “Letting Go”.

I love what this book has taught me and others, defining what love IS and what it is NOT. And OH! How wrong I--and others-- have been! In fact, I SO believe in the message this small book contains, that I keep two of them (new) in my bike trunk for many months. (SOME day, I'll be inspired to bestow ownership on someone else.)

The scene this morning...We sit outside. I am the last one to leave our small group this morning about 9:15 AM. My bike starts nice, helmet on, ready to go....and a car pulls up RIGHT IN FRONT of me. Immediately I'm having bad thoughts, as a girl gets out of car to go into Starbucks, and she and the driver have me locked in the prison of a parking space. UGH!

What happens next, she walks in front of her car, and stoops down to pick up something, then walks over to me and hands me my treasured book, which I must have dropped--”The Way To Love”.

Only moments before we guys were reading in De Mello that, “...love is an attitude, a disposition (and) this kind of love radiates outward to the world of things—and persons.”

I wait for the “girl” and her companion to park and walk past my bike. I climb off and hand her a new, clean copy of the book. She seems overjoyed! We shall never cross paths again.

In closing this short story I MUST write, “There is NOTHING on earth which contributes more to a joyous heart than to have given a gift...anonymously.”

(I tried to relate this blip of a happening without pride, real or false. Hope it worked—I'll never know!)

--steveroni

4/19/2015

LIVE, LEARN, LIVE

THIS IS HOW WE LIVE AND LEARN...
or is it "learn...and LIVE?"

--a short story. Young man came into a meeting last night, his first in three weeks! Always the "quiet one"...sober a couple months.  He sat there for the hour meeting and he who never says a word, began to speak:

"I listen to what you people tell me, but...two nights ago I had dinner with my girlfriend. SHE ordered for herself a margarita, and for me a nice Lowenbrau (beer). I stared at the bottle of beer for how long I don't know, was ready to reach out and quell my fire, when I heard the words.

"It was a story in our Big Book, about a sober guy who felt so strong, and "healed" that he ordered a scotch to dump into his milk. Then one more, because the first went down fine. He was found three weeks later in a trash can in New York...and woke up in a hospital.

"Few sentences after that story was a line which read, 'An alcoholic...will be absolutely unable to stop drinking on the basis of self-knowledge...'

"Well, I want you people to know I thought about all that, and just reached out and pushed that beer away." (End of story)

Some will know of what I write. Others will not but I experienced a strong pushing feeling to get it out there on my blog. It's called "live and learn"...I call it "learn...and LIVE!"  (I did!)

(NOTE: I've changed a few facts to avoid copyright problems, and breaking of anonymity, but the conversation is intact.)

--steveroni 
May 13, 2015

MASTER'S TOUCH

I'm Two days late in posting, so I missed OLN.
But readers can still check on others'poetry:
by clicking d'verse poets pub's

OPEN LINK NIGHT #148

A Marcy Purdy photograph

During year 1941 I was chosen to read a poem (because I played a violin)--and the words had no meaning whatever for me.

SEVENTY years later I read the same poem to a group of 150 sober alcoholics--and I cried, (could hardly finish reading) realizing the recovered miracles sitting in front of me in that room...

"THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND"

(MY STORY)

Twas battered and scared, and the auctioneer

thought it scarcely worth his while

to waste much time on the old violin.

But he held it up with a smile.

"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,

"Who'll start bidding for me?

A dollar, a dollar - now who'll make it two?

Two dollars, and who'll make it three?

"Three dollars once, three dollars twice,

going for three". . . but no!

From the room far back a gray-haired man

came forward and picked up the bow;

then, wiping the dust from the old violin,

and tightening up the strings,

he played a melody, pure and sweet,

as sweet as an angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer

with a voice that was quiet and low,

said: "What am I bidden for the old violin?"

And he held it up with the bow;

"A thousand dollars - and who'll make it two?

Two thousand - and who'll make it three?

Three thousand once, three thousand twice

and going - and gone," said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,

"We do not quite understand -

what changed its worth?" The man replied:

"The touch of the masters hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,

and battered and torn with sin,

is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd.

Much like the old violin.

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,

a game, and he travels on;

he's going once, and going twice -

he's going - and almost gone!

But the MASTER comes, and the foolish crowd

never can quite understand

The worth of a soul, the change that's wrought

by the touch of the MASTER'S hand.

~Myra B. Welch

Vivian Maier "A FANTASY" for Magpie 141

Click HERE
for Magpie Tales

VIVIAN MAIER...A FANTASY

"Not yet", said he--to the one named Vivian

who had just dis'barked her amphibian, 

(her private way to travel

without all the public babble.)

Inspector Maier, frequently called 

upon to investigate solutions of "the

insolvable" crimes, gathered evidence

through use of smoky mirrors.  Also a

Kodak Brownie, and strong reflecting light

completed her bag of tools.  

Set free to investigate and roam

She'd solve the crime--then rob the home.

A professional sleuth no longer...

Vivian Maier died a pauper.

Trapped by her own mirrors and light

Viv shot her last shot...gave up the fight.

NOTE: Suspecting Police 

had installed a Brownie 

behind each reflective glass

to catch this famous dowdy...

--steveroni

FIREWORKS

Magpie Tales is HERE

A BURNING DESIRE
(haiku)

Burning desire

Way back there my house on fire

Men shooting their guns.

I remember when

There was no fence here at all.

Men set posts at night.

Why this barby wire?

Keep bad men out--or me in?

Neither accomplished...

Those people back there

Have no clue whut's gonna happen

(Mountain will blow up...)

Explosives planted

Everywhere. Yes, I did it.

Fireworks at nine.

--steveroni Oct 2014

IN THE PARK

IN THE PARK

Slowly you walk with old man,

in city where both live,

through greens and trees

in a park

Listen. Shhhhh. In breeze,

leaves, whispering 

accompaniment to lovely song

of a lark.

Sitting on wooden bench,

with ancient, trusty knife--

for just the two of you he

carves II...your mark.

Other things happen,

Hot dogs with relish, 

ice cream, chocolate.

Ah! A spark...

"Dear Madam, you have

made bright my day.

We walked, we talked,

you held this withered hand,

and now..........time 

to debark.

It is dark."

--steveroni

10/10/2014

The Neighborhood.

MAGPIE is HERE

The Neighborhood

They said,

(By the way, 

who IS "they"?)

Anyway, they say,

"The Terraplane will 

fit like an aeroplane". 

The condo 'hood

above ground stood--

Plenty space to play.

Underground pipe

for children who like 

to seek...and to hide

(Don't have to find!)

In time (after) great flood

a subdivision built

Big boat, lots animals

with Noah settled nearby

in mud, muck, and mire,

discovered again

How to make--grin-- fire!

Now, only problem left--

be certain--make a list

and check it twice, thrice.

For the 

Groc'ry

Is far

away.....

--steveroni

GIRL WALKING

Click HERE for MAGPIE info

GIRL WALKING

She walking, eyes full of tears

knows not where she go

nor seem to care

any more

as that river, overflowed with 

melting mountain snow-ice,

flood and current carried 

house away

like nicely appointed two-storied 

scow, she watched floating 

downstream, around bend,

her home

possessions, all destroyed. her bike,

computer, photos and books

everything she liked

forever gone

Where now to go, run, hide, 

bide time to think, start at the end

and end at begin

again

as little one walks, certain that

water rise no higher

than her boot tops.

Swishh...swishh

--steveroni

ACCIDENT?

courtesy: MAGPIE TALES

ACCIDENT?
(attempted Haiku)

Oh my God, I am

beginning to remember...

my dear I hit you. 

Over a trivial 

triviality we fought.

And I thought you ought

be nicer to me.

As your head hit the marble

I took to the bottle

and drank it all. 

Now your body...what to do?

(You won't feel a thing.)

--steveroni

"Morning curtains" conjures an idyllic situation/scene.  I enjoyed disturbing it a bit, almost like a child smearing up an artist's freshly painted work.

LET THE END BEGIN

Inspired by and Written for 

MAGPIE

LET THE END BEGIN

Look at me

upside down, 

my feet tingly

belly SO hot

Who are these creatures

swooshing, fluttering,

zooming like dive bombers, 

yet fearing to touch?

Wishing harm to me

planning my demise

it shall happen, that

one day all power 

will rapidly

diminish...

and

end

--Your old fashioned 

100-watt light bulb

Steve E

A BIT OF UNKNOWING-- HAIKU

Walking Skeleton by
http://alistair.cockburn.us/Walking+skeleton" 

A BIT OF HAIKU...

A bit of me thinks 

that a bit of Universe 

is without meaning.

True faith is born here:

yes, of this meaninglessness, 

and my unknowing.

Chaos reigns supreme,

with all problems of the world

seeming insolvable.

I continue to 

believe everything OKAY

in the end--knowing

all safe in God's Hands.

Therein is proof of our faith

that God's still in charge.

--Steve E

GIVING and TAKING (Part II TAKING)

More about artist Ces Adorio. Ces and artist friend Bella each donated a gift of their art to blogger friends--who gave $25 or more to Red Cross for relief of Japanese who had suffered after the great Earthquake and Tsunami of 2011.  They raised thousands of dollars. What an honor it is for me to have use of their art for illustrating my blog now and then. They are each on my sidebar "Blogroll"...

Drawing by CES

Please scroll down to Part I if you have not read that. Thank you

The following took place 

three months before 

Hump had a great fall 

off that great wall.

TAKE  (Part II of "Give and TAKE)

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Giuseppi, who laid that linoleum checkerboard floor for that rich guy. Ever since then, I've coveted that pig standing on the floor under the painting. It was a hard job, the squares had to be laid exactly "just so". Had to pick up the pig's feet one-by-one. 

The guy--we called him "Earless Hump", remember?--couldn't hear a sound. Shaped like an egg, all dressed fit-to-kill, he played (of all things) the gol-danged fiddle, which sounded
H O R R I B L E S
--O GOD!
 I don't believe he even knew. But I knew I wanted that hog.

I knew robbing him would be easy, he was so stuck on himself--in his lonely, noiseless world. That night the moonshine spilled over from the painting (large as a window!). I climbed right into his home through that painting--

Well, things happened pretty fast then  (aren't you glad--grin!). A mouse on top of the picture frame spotted--and immediately fell in love with--a mouse on the floor. As the mice played, they scampered up his pant leg. He abruptly turned, caught me red-handed, pulled out a gun and fired.

Visitors who come by for concerts, make "sign" gestures with their hands and ALWAYS ask him about the man half in and half out of the painting--like a "remarque"--with a little blood-red ink on the frame.

--Steve E

September 2014

GIVING and TAKING (Part 1--Giving)

Native of the Philippine Islands, Ces Adorio lives in the United States, and is my most favorite artist (she will tell you this is true!) Ces owns a Blog on which she has freely posted the results of her most unusual talents, drawing, painting and squiggling and writing.

 HUMPTY DUMPTY by Ces Adorio

GIVING

The story begins, "Who ever heard of a violin-playing egg?" Well, I don't recall anyone ever declaring that eggs do NOT play violins. 

Humpty Dumpty was born deaf (no ears!), yet his dream was to be a concert violinist, to bring sounds of heaven to listeners, to lift people from doldrums of everyday life to a higher level of enjoyment, appreciation, meaning.  

Playing the violin looked easy. So Hump attended a symphony concert and sat in the front row by violin section and watched carefully. Then he bought a violin and bow. Hump (nickname) practiced all week what he'd seen, and it was good. 

Thousands of people rode to his estate, and after hearing him "play",  exclaimed he had technique and sound of Itzhak Perlman. He played always the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto--perfectly. Nobody needed lessons. HA!

One day, tired from rolling around the lawns, he sat on a wall to rest a bit. As history was being compiled, Hump fell off the wall, was being strewn about, broken into many pieces.

Investigating Detectives wondered at what they later found in his home--a violin bow, its hairs soaked with greasy soap--so Hump, in silence, could appear as if he were playing. But "No-ears" Hump was only making the motions. Nearby was his music center, a DVD playing LOUDLY the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto by soloist Itzhak Perlman--

Forever after, audiences refused to believe that Hump had not been making the music, kept insisting that Hump (who faked it with a greasy bow and never played a note in his life) played violin far better than Itzhak could ever dream of playing.

--Steve E

NOTE:  "TAKING" (Part 2 of Giving and Taking) will be posted in a couple days...please come back for it--you won't be sorry

MARIA (and the art of violin playing)

The following actually happened to me about 15 years ago while "entertaining" in the Alzheimer's Center of a Naples, Florida Retirement Community  

Google Images (Sorry, Cannot find attribution)

MARIA

Only her pale breathing told of life. 

A very old--but not aged--

beautiful head permanently bent

had closed completely that space 

between eyebrows and breast

Belted in a chair with wheels, 

she no longer sensed 

what, where, how, when, or why.

Communication to or from her brain

might have been evermore lost.

I knelt on carpeted floor, 

arranged myself so to gaze 

into her face. Nothing there. 

Talent with which I'd been blessed,

I felt a strong need to share.

An aide said, "Take your violin and play

for those who can hear, enjoy, rather than

one locked away inside herself forever."

Truth is, I lost the strength to raise 

myself up from carpeted floor.

The room hushed! Softly and slowly I played a

sweetest Ave Maria--Holy Mary!

Sitting on that carpeted floor,

I looked (up) into those now-blue eyes 

and caught the beginnings of a smile.

While playing, I stared and smiled at her. 

Tears began to flow, hers and mine...onto thick carpet. 

Later someone told me that she had not responded 

to ANYTHING or anybody for many days.

She began to finger her gold-chained cross

It was a God day which I shall NEVER forget.

Steve E

2014

Starry Nights - Mag 234

Please check: http://magpietales.blogspot.com

Starry Night by Alex Ruiz

Artist, in field 

stood, as if affixed.

About to devote, yield

himself to posterity. 

So alone, he mused...

Forever it seemed, I

lived in reality

only to at last "see"--

and this night--

faced the Universe...

Truth 

Great circles of reality

lived always nowhere else...

but within my soul, my self. 

While I'd been looking out,

yes, apart, away from--

Now I am a part OF 

all which ever created.

This scene I MUST show

to my brother Theo,

(named for "God" Who lives.)

("But HOW?"

 "Paint, man! PAINT!")

In manner described as Starry Night--

He oil-spread circularity Eternity,

ALL being such colorful ONE.

Beauty Unbelievable

for you and me akin

for truth within.

--steveroni 

SPECIAL ANNIVERSARY JULY 2015

NOTE: The following are my thoughts and writing, pure 

and simple.  IN NO WAY do I speak or pretend to speak 

for the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous.  Steve E.

ATLANTA, GEORGIA

Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

July 2, 3, 4, 5, 2015

"Why do night-lights 
shining like stars?
Maybe...'cause they are!"
--fiddlemn

June 10, 1935, a man named Bill waited for the other--his host--to return from a long day away.  

It was hot.  

Hoped Dr Bob's return wouldn't become a drunken scene.  

It did not.  

Earlier that morning in Akron Ohio, Dr Bob had his last final drink of alcohol, then went around town taking care of business.  

As time--and years--passed, this began to be recognized as the birthday of Alcoholics Anonymous.  So, we now "see" two men who--not long before, were helpless, hopeless alcoholics-- found that by helping each other, they could stay sober.  One thing true then...and true today, the only way they could live productive and happy lives, was to help another--others--by giving away the gift they'd received

They sought alcoholics ("Alkies") who had an honest desire to stay sober.  More years, amazing growth, a God-Spirit-inspired book (Alcoholics Anonymous) brought me (and you readers) here--now.

God willing, in July 2015, approximately 80,000 people will descend on Atlanta, Georgia from all the world.  AA is found in 170 of the nearly 200 independent countries around the globe.  On the final day, between 100-150 of those countries will be honored and represented by recovering alcoholics, carrying the flag of their homeland.  All across the stage they will proudly stand --and I will be there to take a selfie, with THAT background!! HA!

It'll BE Alcoholics Anonymous 80th Anniversary celebration! 
PEACE and LIGHT...and LOVE, all my friends.
Steve E

FRIENDS

 Don D and Steve E with 

first Motor Scooter 1949

Photo by Norma (Mother!)

God sends me friends,

unseparated Parts of Himself

to share, to care,

(and I was told)

to be aware.

Human nuggets, pure gold,

not for shelf-keeping,

dusting, burnishing

now, then, and when...

Precious souls!

Friends, God's bestowal,

carefully held in my heart

cherished, loved,

more, more, and more.

...as slowly older I grow

--steveroni

August 2014