tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21873189756195629542024-03-12T19:24:20.195-04:00The Virtuous Collection Through The Eyes Of A Sober MindTake a look back and see through the eyes of a recovering alcoholic.Don Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-10617712311480731762009-02-15T15:10:00.004-05:002012-02-23T08:29:39.343-05:00Just A Moment in time<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnVw2bYz2_FLm8TeFauN-mksSrXhI6t7aKpE1M-xcrpk35IAhgvnHzLVQnEbZ5KF_SdvTXqZQS1I0Q60muI40pov8nBwaBs2RSTwPl-vA6hYCuunGZJVlY68bq3TiCbwWmqV43soRjNsE/s1600-h/j0403204.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303120630073382370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnVw2bYz2_FLm8TeFauN-mksSrXhI6t7aKpE1M-xcrpk35IAhgvnHzLVQnEbZ5KF_SdvTXqZQS1I0Q60muI40pov8nBwaBs2RSTwPl-vA6hYCuunGZJVlY68bq3TiCbwWmqV43soRjNsE/s200/j0403204.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 134px;" /></a>You know, I have had my day in the sun on stage and found out what the excitement is all about. When I was in long term recovery for my alcoholism, I met some like minded musicians and actors, lighting experts and sound people.<br />
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One of the things I used to like to do was write music. In fact, most of the poems you have read here are in fact songs from that period in time. One day I grabbed my guitar and headed off to the music room. This was a sound proof room in the boarding house that I lived in. Anyway, to make a long story short; I met up with a few friends and started to create some new songs. One thing led to another and we all came up with this idea to create a play.<br />
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After playing around with the idea, someone came up with a way of putting this whole thing together. What was happening here was this; we have a group of musicians who don’t know how to be actors and we have a group of actors who can’t hold a tune, what’s the answer, what can we do?<br />
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The answer is this; someone came up with the idea of a libretto. (A definition from Wikipedia), “The relationship of the librettist (that is, the writer of a libretto) to the composer in the creation of a musical work.” Anyway this is the idea and we managed to make it work.<br />
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My point was not to write about this libretto thing but more about the reaction of the crowd as we finished up on stage, although I will in the near future be talking all about what I did musically while getting sober. What I wanted to touch base with you about was this. Remembering the affect we had on others is something I will never forget.<br />
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The first time the show was performed it was in front of about 200 or so recovering addicts. Everyone in that room that night could relate to what we were presenting to them. The crowd reaction was pure warmth, emotions were vivid and every one of the people in that room was connected as if we were all family. At the end of the show, on the last note of the last song, we all stood looking at the crowd with total silence in the room. It seemed like forever and all of a sudden it came. The sound that came out of the people that sat and watched scared me. They were so loud with applause that it went right through me.<br />
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I was so taken in by that moment and at that moment in time I knew that I was working a twelfth step. I was giving back something that was more help than can be spoken in words. This was magical to me, to be able to connect to so many people on so many different levels is just hard to describe.<br />
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I was searching through Youtube the other day and found this video that helps to describe the feelings I experienced that magical night. The video is called The Reason by Hoobastank. Notice the reaction of the crowd. I know that this is not the same circumstances but just imagine what this feels like to the person on stage. There are no words to describe this feeling but it’s awesome.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/RHESGxB5fJk?rel=0" width="420"></iframe>
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I guess my point in all this is this; Things happen when you suddenly become aware of your surroundings, things you may never experience by medicating or numbing yourself. All to just keep from dealing with reality, as if it were a bad thing.<br />
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Have you ever experienced moments in time that will live on in your memories forever? If so how about dropping a comment and share it. I can’t speak for anyone who reads this but I know that I would love to hear about it.Don Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-34020943390305618822009-02-07T21:01:00.004-05:002009-02-07T21:16:33.902-05:00A Gift For YouI dedicate this poem to my wife who knows me better than anyone on earth. I am not one who writes much about love but she has inspired me.<br /><br />When I first met her I knew that I would never grow old alone. For those of you who have found true love in your life, I'm sure you understand what I wrote and why.<br /><br />I am such a hopeless romantic Not!<br /><br />Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece of work that doesn't come very often from me.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">A Gift For You</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-hIfdz3JUP_BfZ_3NZOwECO6TnyAaUWN7uVVB0-mu9-hy8YEO0fDQGAHR56IS-1httaav-i0tRlxeCdEyVFMzDICSHwN84ksWSrV-diaWsE2Tskbr0WI2k5ro3hCw_ePLXbp50_NowLg/s1600-h/j0341660.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-hIfdz3JUP_BfZ_3NZOwECO6TnyAaUWN7uVVB0-mu9-hy8YEO0fDQGAHR56IS-1httaav-i0tRlxeCdEyVFMzDICSHwN84ksWSrV-diaWsE2Tskbr0WI2k5ro3hCw_ePLXbp50_NowLg/s320/j0341660.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300244287557931314" border="0" /></a><br /><br />If I told you that I loved you in so many words<br />Would it mean the same as what my feelings show<br /><br />If I gave you sparkling gems and silver<br />Would it give you as much pleasure as my time with you<br /><br />If I gave you deep red roses blooming in the sun<br />Do they tell you that I love you as my words have done<br /><br />There are no words that describe my feelings for you<br />So I sing them in this song<br />A gift for you<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Shooting stars fall from the skies<br />Yet keep on shining in your eyes<br />I can tell by the way you look at me<br />Your loving me<br /><br />Red skies cast a bright sunset<br />Admiration of your silhouette<br />You can tell by the way I look at you<br />I am loving you<br /></span></div><br />If my eyes can see your inner most calm and time has no movement<br />Then I have seen the light and it warms my soul till the end of eternityDon Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-47334188106762856692008-11-09T19:18:00.006-05:002008-11-10T03:19:43.406-05:00Therapy, Sold On A Dream<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0gjyziwO4Ze9MaiJ6Q-qmNhspxLaRzprQZlcsNdvLApmns4BcCT5JC55Zl3sN9XjKBcnLz_RjXi0HjPb0MxBsOLKlmXR2zu7236eeJVtRrPSxFzVy-wt3ep1Ae4jOoKYYZmfxnWyqC_I/s1600-h/col1+%282%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 228px; height: 228px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0gjyziwO4Ze9MaiJ6Q-qmNhspxLaRzprQZlcsNdvLApmns4BcCT5JC55Zl3sN9XjKBcnLz_RjXi0HjPb0MxBsOLKlmXR2zu7236eeJVtRrPSxFzVy-wt3ep1Ae4jOoKYYZmfxnWyqC_I/s320/col1+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266818278911721586" border="0" /></a><br />When I first got sober back in 1991 I stayed in an isolated state for about a year. I wasn’t very sociable. Yes I had friends and yes I was in a relationship. As a matter of fact, the woman I was in a relationship then is now my wife. Without her being so supportive, I don’t think that I would be where I am today.<br /><br />I didn’t have much money but had enough to build a makeshift recording studio in a spare room. The studio consisted of a Tascam 16 track cassette recorder and a used sound board. I had an old fender amp and a Peavy pa head. I had invested in an Art FXR sound effects machine that consisted of about 450 programs. For instance, Chorus, Flanger and a digital delay.<br /><br />What I did after that was just create. For that year I did nothing but write and record. Sometimes I would stay in that room for 12 hours at a time. In some kind of strange way this was therapy for me. I must admit that what I did give myself was the time to reflect on my life and heal my mind.<br /><br />Think about it, I started drinking when I was 10 years old in 1967 and didn’t look back until 1990. I was 33 years old and a total wreck. For one full year I spent time in a program that I will cherish for the rest of my life. After all, that is what they gave me back, My Life.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">On another post I will tell you just how much of a wreck I was.</span><br /><br />I wrote this piece while in that isolated state. One day I will post the music that accompanies it.<br /><br />By the way, if anyone out there has any stories about recovery or any related subject, I would love to have you as a guest writer. Just leave a comment or write me at: <a href="mailto:%20blogging@digitalstores.biz">blogging@digitalstores.biz</a> After all my goal is to be helpful to others and stories of self destruction are a god sent in helping to educate those who think it’s cool to obliterate themselves<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sold On A Dream</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Listen to the sound in my mind</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br />My girl by my side, so very kind</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br />Living day by day, trying to create</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Feels so good to know that she’s my loving mate</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /><br />I’m sold on a dream</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br />Nothing feels so good</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br />Increase my self-esteem</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br />I knew she understood</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /><br />Moving day by day, pushing towards my goal</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br />Listen to me play, I begin to rock & roll</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br />I know that in my mind, this is where I want to be</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br />Nothing feels so good, makes me feel so free</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /><br />I’m sold on a dream</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br />Nothing feels so good</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br />Increase my self-esteem</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br />I knew she understood</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /><br />Listen to the sound in my mind</span>Don Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-77097477360765277912008-11-02T09:01:00.005-05:002008-11-02T09:09:37.994-05:00So I Stare<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh85ivbN7bKFRbB1QzhonVHLc7pQBFYw5rxf5xWyeWA53s61wQGwRaA1LX-PdhN3XQKBStlCVis151NAbCsNhe77nX5s_ljyzM5086QcutxVBGTC-i5wEdlAH2jDmdzKlTAlOBoYVk1t80/s1600-h/merge-1.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 107px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh85ivbN7bKFRbB1QzhonVHLc7pQBFYw5rxf5xWyeWA53s61wQGwRaA1LX-PdhN3XQKBStlCVis151NAbCsNhe77nX5s_ljyzM5086QcutxVBGTC-i5wEdlAH2jDmdzKlTAlOBoYVk1t80/s320/merge-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264061521593053858" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">Here I sit by my window</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">Watching the world slowly go by</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">Thinking thoughts of yesterday</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">I shed a tear and cry</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">I can’t hear what’s never been spoken</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">How can you see what’s never been there</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">These are questions I can’t answer</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">So I stare</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">Daydreams are visions; they tell us who we are</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">You shouldn’t let them pass you by</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">Hang on to what you believe in</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">All we have is what we are</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">Here I sit by my window</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">So I stare</span>Don Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-31570503187725528532008-10-27T04:31:00.004-04:002008-10-27T05:06:17.797-04:00Interpret This (The Answer)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoi7glwkhnTkpKA-rbW_68p8ibjGMSJ9Ln4Plum5U5zdWkellalvmaZ1ZREVyCiTxqt_cv21ggiYNMR3o8t3Sw_PhHJ6JH5q-Iat7LDl3MDlq5dtv87crB2UMkOvR6d_mYGFmDANxqmoo/s1600-h/questionmark.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 142px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoi7glwkhnTkpKA-rbW_68p8ibjGMSJ9Ln4Plum5U5zdWkellalvmaZ1ZREVyCiTxqt_cv21ggiYNMR3o8t3Sw_PhHJ6JH5q-Iat7LDl3MDlq5dtv87crB2UMkOvR6d_mYGFmDANxqmoo/s200/questionmark.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261751255334747010" border="0" /></a><br />This is it guys, Here is the full explanation for this riddle. I was hoping that someone would have figured it out but it didn't happen. Some came close but not quite.<br /><br />Anyway, here we go....<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Although I never saw you coming</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />I was never blindsided by your light</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I have received comments in the past that have given me such gratification that I would ride that high for a week. It's hard to explain but I expected a comment from that person but never expected them to be dead on where my thoughts were.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Interpret this</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />You are not my faithful follower</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Yet you follow me around</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Enter Social Networking; Lets just use Blog Catalog, Facebook and Twitter for example. You develop a certain friendship with people over time and as you explore other networks, you usually run into some of the same people.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I find you in population </span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Yet your not there for me</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sometimes you develop relationships with certain people and think you know them pretty well. Well, this is not always the case. I have developed a friendship with some and found out about a dark side that I really didn't want to be associated with.</span> Just my experiences over time.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">You devour everything in sight</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Yet spew it back as if bulimic</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />A testimonial of your perception</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />A tribute to the cause</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Think about the Digg Network. Everyone scrambles to grab a story before anyone else reads it. Enter it on Digg and develop new contacts. This is a great traffic builder.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Hindsight is usually your strong suit</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Your perception always grand</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What is the definition of Hindsight? <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Perception of the significance and nature of events after they have occurred.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Yet what is this I speak of</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Do you really understand?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Keep going!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Yes I heard it through the grapevine</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Yes I told you and yours</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Yes you gave it back with dignity<br /></span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Awaiting all its glory</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Again think of what you usually write about. Most times you write about what you are thinking about at the time. I have been down this road many times where I read someones post and had no choice but to react to what I read as I was so taken by the subject. You don't really have a choice but to write your own views on the subject.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">But who and why, who knows<br /></span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Perhaps I’ll shine the light</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Or maybe you instead</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />What is this?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">OK, OK! You must have figured it out by now. All of this comes down to one thing. This in nothing more than what we are in this cyber world.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">We Are Bloggers</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Answer Is BLOGGER</span><br /><br />Thank you all! I had a lot of fun doing this. I hope you did also.Don Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-43724190160470113482008-10-25T11:11:00.004-04:002008-10-25T11:28:57.957-04:00Interpret this<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEyAl-6ctxdQWf5fMSj4M4Zorlh5ElZhJnx_8Z7TzVE5mlr9CflmYqua4_sBKd6VoHMEzEif1DqeJIE1zDYg7pEWP8xgzNeVlddiwLjdtYxZ4f344Duzr1nSqsfavuIthCmD0m1j_cMYo/s1600-h/questionmark.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 228px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEyAl-6ctxdQWf5fMSj4M4Zorlh5ElZhJnx_8Z7TzVE5mlr9CflmYqua4_sBKd6VoHMEzEif1DqeJIE1zDYg7pEWP8xgzNeVlddiwLjdtYxZ4f344Duzr1nSqsfavuIthCmD0m1j_cMYo/s320/questionmark.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261110482074887986" border="0" /></a>I decided to write this riddle for you to figure out. Pass it on to all your friends or anyone you can think of and leave your answers in the comments. I would really be interested in what the final outcome will be.<br /><br />Pass this on to everyone you are connected with so I can accumulate as many answers as possible. This time next week I will tally all the results and post it here. I will also reveal the answer.<br /><br />I think this will be a lot of fun and I am curious as to how many will respond with the right answer.<br /><br />The more that answer will make it interesting to all who read it. Lets see how deep the answers can get. So come on and rally all your friends and lets get some answers.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">A</span></span>lthough I never saw you coming<br />I was never blindsided by your light<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Interpret this</span><br /><br />You are not my faithful follower<br />Yet you follow me around<br /><br />I find you in population<br />Yet your not there for me<br /><br />You devour everything in sight<br />Yet spew it back as if bulimic<br /><br />A testimonial of your perception<br />A tribute to the cause<br /><br />Hindsight is usually your strong suit<br />Your perception always grand<br /><br />Yet what is this I speak of<br />Do you really understand?<br /><br />Yes I heard it through the grapevine<br />Yes I told you and yours<br /><br />Yes you gave it back with dignity<br />Awaiting all its glory<br /><br />But who and why, who knows<br />Perhaps I’ll shine the light<br />Or maybe you instead<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">What is this?</span>Don Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-5210213122124361912008-09-28T06:46:00.004-04:002008-09-28T07:01:30.144-04:00With And Without<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Remembering Old Friends</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipevKhmQRpfnkeJiRRDsWbJoU4OkqykUd3tfchFoedW_-Z8uThVUjkVH_UnJomOCyyStE-7GDuEch2E2cUON0CJn3bCz7U46sxTES4MarJFdRYOyucdJgxIvmjO_vO6GQttu4nWbp9xUg/s1600-h/death.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipevKhmQRpfnkeJiRRDsWbJoU4OkqykUd3tfchFoedW_-Z8uThVUjkVH_UnJomOCyyStE-7GDuEch2E2cUON0CJn3bCz7U46sxTES4MarJFdRYOyucdJgxIvmjO_vO6GQttu4nWbp9xUg/s320/death.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251024853882128818" border="0" /></a><br />This piece is dedicated to the remembrance of old friends. I moved to a small town called Rosendale when I was 6 years old. Rosendale is located upstate NY. Just outside of Kingston. It’s a small mountain town and is where my heart still longs for today.<br /><br />The poem I am introducing to you today is a reflection of that time and mainly about a friend who I grew up with. He has since died and I reflect once in awhile about our life such as it was.<br /><br />Brian was my best friend. We hung out, cut school, partied and did most everything together. I could go into detail about our life but I think it would take a lifetime to put into words.<br /><br />Brian died at the age of 27 and the way I found out was a total shock to me. I had moved on, was married and living in Portsmouth NH. Every year I would visit my parents who still lived in the old house I grew up in. I would come for a visit and always visit Brian and his grandmother who he lived with. We would hang out, party and always have a great visit. We would always be the best of friends and always happy to see each other.<br /><br />To make this story a little shorter, one day I was visiting my family in the summer of 1983. It was sort of a family reunion and I was home for the week. The very first day I was home I had to walk down to Brian’s house. I couldn’t wait to see him. To my surprise someone else answered the door and said the people who lived there had moved away. They said that the guy that lived in the house was found dead from an overdose of drugs. His grandmother found him and had a heart attack and was under the care of a nursing home.<br /><br />I was in shock to find out the news this way and have never been the same. I blocked it out of my mind for many years until one day when I was walking and started to reflect. Anyway this is what I wrote with my best friend Brian in mind.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Folks, DRUGS KILL!</span><br /><br />Brian, if somehow you can read this I wrote this with you in mind.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >With And Without</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqrXm67mU3ZHC82Uf1u8GcfYz-XjOjRyS7h6jSmmnKR-8bk3EJG-Jab7AtbQIhSJUssHUumtv35lyQ3UC5dwazC_3-NrAJmSkBDfdzgFf1gqBTXSvRJOYk3pWg0Md81QQdPQbrJhCHbrc/s1600-h/city.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqrXm67mU3ZHC82Uf1u8GcfYz-XjOjRyS7h6jSmmnKR-8bk3EJG-Jab7AtbQIhSJUssHUumtv35lyQ3UC5dwazC_3-NrAJmSkBDfdzgFf1gqBTXSvRJOYk3pWg0Md81QQdPQbrJhCHbrc/s320/city.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251023420837713042" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >As I walked down the street</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />Faces, oh so many faces</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />I turn to greet a friend</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />But he’s not there</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >When I turn around again</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />Faces so strange, unknown</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />Unlike a feeling I’ve ever known before</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />Nothing like a friend</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />To talk to when things are ha</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >rd</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />But now you’re gone</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />It’s hard but I must go on</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />Even though your not there</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />I can’t help but think you are</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />And somehow it makes it all easier</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />What about this emptiness</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />A word that is used to describe a pain</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />Hurting is a teacher</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />It teaches me to understand</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />That nothing lasts forever</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >Nothing in this great big world</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />Anyone who thinks otherwise is a lost cause</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />Why am I here</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />A question I ask myself</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />What is my purpose</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />A reason for me to live this way</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />I was born of this world</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />I will live of this world</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />I will die of this world</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />Here’s to long lost friends</span>Don Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-40303144135732012802008-09-17T07:22:00.006-04:002008-09-17T13:37:54.338-04:00Becoming Self Aware For The First TimeAs you may or may not know, I started drinking at the age of 10 and never looked back until the age of 33. In my opinion that is 23 years of pure dysfunction. I come from a large family and am second youngest out of ten children. Many parties and plenty of alcohol, I don’t blame my family though it is an easy excuse.<br /><br />I didn’t write this post to become an AA meeting rather an introduction to this next poem that I wrote back somewhere around 94.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Let me set the stage: </span></span><br /><br />For a couple of years I walked around with this notion that my dysfunction was a result of society and I felt that society owed me big time. I was in debt up to my eye balls and looked for the US Government to bail me out. To make a long story short, No One Is At Your Beckon Call. If you need help you had better be ready to go through many channels to get it. The US Government is not there to help you rather it goes like this.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The US Government, My Representation:</span></span><br /><br />Hi, I represent the US Government and I am getting paid, and quite well I might add. I am here to process you into the system. I see hundreds a day and I don’t want to hear about your problems. You need money? Go stand in that line. You have mental problems, the medical line starts there. What! You just came out of a rehab. So what do you expect from me? I’m not the one who put a drink to your mouth. My advice is to get a job. I can’t help you with an alcohol problem.<br /><br />A person who has fallen can be made to feel just like that. It is a humbling experience and I don’t wish it on anyone.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">I’m The Man</span></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Writings about self awareness. </span><br /><br />There’s a man I know who sells flowers on the street<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2YWCr_PC00o7YJ_kjDIUjmRHJma0THyzDHi1pom22ZOmMntF_BXdadoosReRu82DcqRFwyodROjNLgBgqZvTVUwte5s_iwMk3fO-TVuROf-nO20ULT_giiRpsF4Ce9eCin2CCiKgbC8/s1600-h/j0438931.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2YWCr_PC00o7YJ_kjDIUjmRHJma0THyzDHi1pom22ZOmMntF_BXdadoosReRu82DcqRFwyodROjNLgBgqZvTVUwte5s_iwMk3fO-TVuROf-nO20ULT_giiRpsF4Ce9eCin2CCiKgbC8/s320/j0438931.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246950027523352946" border="0" /></a><br />Who can make a lady smile while he puts a dollar in his pocket<br /><br />He’s a wicked old man that relates to the fact<br />Not unlike the man we know as the Politician<br /><br />You can stick your nose where it don’t belong<br />But when you pull it back you will find it’s grown a little long<br />So take that dollar bill and put it in your pocket<br />I’m sure you’ll find you will need it on a rainy day<br /><br />Sticks and stones and name calling was a thing of the past<br />You are in need my friend; you’re upside down and inside out<br />As this big old world turns round and round<br />So give me a home where nobody roams and the only thing that blocks out the sun is a tree<br />And I will show you the man with a sense of reality<br /><br />If I can’t make you understand then let me take you by the hand<br />I will lead you on a journey, I will mislead, oops, I mean lead you through the land<br />You are after all what make this big world turn round and round<br />As I can only tell you that I’m The ManDon Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-3182993252901632012008-08-25T16:42:00.004-04:002008-08-25T17:55:37.741-04:00ThunderI wrote this piece in 1991 for a show that was created called "Surrender". I don't know if you are familiar with a Libretto. A libretto is a form of musical where you have your screen play and a separate section for the music.<br /><br />For the next few posts I will be introducing to you a series of songs in lyric that I wrote specifically for this production called "Surrender". Surrender is a story of a man in addiction who has hit his bottom and is starting on the road to recovery. He has joined a long term recovery program. The story takes you through what it is like to experience what every recovering person goes through.<br /><br />Understanding why I wrote these lyrics will help you understand them for what they truly are.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDIKVDje2hOo8cVBtkjff_Y69_amxIr5JWEsm0s2nz-U_eAFj7xjwzVbLtJ6igmTMAr1VU3prSWkwMG_KuM8LNG50YtJqmu5K6xzGCOc7qVf93xS8rgji1M3OG0BJoDa586z_Npc9wks0/s1600-h/thunder1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDIKVDje2hOo8cVBtkjff_Y69_amxIr5JWEsm0s2nz-U_eAFj7xjwzVbLtJ6igmTMAr1VU3prSWkwMG_KuM8LNG50YtJqmu5K6xzGCOc7qVf93xS8rgji1M3OG0BJoDa586z_Npc9wks0/s320/thunder1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238577015693426946" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Thunder</span><br /><br />Living in peace, is a time<br />When all evil is at end<br />The infinite flow of time<br />Glides slowly through the hands<br /><br />Like a warm breeze blowing into a cold.<br /><br />I don’t understand, the treacherous ways<br />Of living in a sinful space<br />When serenity lies, in the hand<br />I just have to turn and face it<br /><br />Like a warm breeze blowing into a cold.<br /><br />When I look in my mind<br />The infinite glow of memories,<br />Some good, some bad<br />Run slowly into each other and the crash of thunder<br /><br />Like a warm breeze blowing into a cold.<br /><br />See the never ending veins of lightning<br />Crashing through my heart<br />As the sun shines through my eyes,<br />And warms my face<br /><br />Like a warm breeze blowing into a cold.<br /><br />The thunder lies within<br />Crashing through you like a stampede<br />Ravaging your soul<br />And sifting through the pieces that you’re left with<br />All in all<br /><br />Like a warm breeze blowing into a coldDon Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-77761942172998191572008-08-13T20:38:00.002-04:002008-08-13T20:43:01.845-04:00Nothing To Laugh About<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDvi1tEfazXk90GPF8SjtLrWpQ2pMlYAjb-aDzSJJrGMEj1sSd_JTDptCfDF7o0FLgu9UWEflI0QWSHrLnsGZNKC5dSyZJC7zs97o5uY_FA_uEVkEJyICbBEJIvlhI3oxJQVizoAihTQA/s1600-h/mpj04371820000%5B1%5D+(2).jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDvi1tEfazXk90GPF8SjtLrWpQ2pMlYAjb-aDzSJJrGMEj1sSd_JTDptCfDF7o0FLgu9UWEflI0QWSHrLnsGZNKC5dSyZJC7zs97o5uY_FA_uEVkEJyICbBEJIvlhI3oxJQVizoAihTQA/s320/mpj04371820000%5B1%5D+(2).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234166955186934162" /></a><br />Why do I feel the way that I do<br />When I’m upstairs in my head<br />When the world comes crashing down upon you<br />I should be laughing instead<br /><br />But what is there to laugh about<br />When the whole world is crying<br />Just a smile won’t help anymore<br />The world needs something<br />But I don’t know what it is<br />At least I know I need more<br /><br />Just to be happy is all that I ask<br />And not to feel dead inside<br />The frown on my face is only a mask<br />I’m putting it all aside<br /><br />But what is there to laugh about<br />When the whole world’s in self destruct<br />People just don’t understand<br />Well I can procrastinate <br />And just sit and stagnate<br />I’m just washing my hands<br />Of what we just don’t understandDon Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-88144593043603513562008-07-12T09:53:00.006-04:002008-12-09T11:14:22.565-05:00And I Dreamed It Was Real<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivn52b0aMUgXFkmYuPVd_ugLTAmcoVH8s0ihsV8zDvcXQoIWZF6EyjRA76VAnywxxPKQkiifmFKNYPK_o-YP5srIbSTEyItHrrC48dJkRJKSD410xlVEl66FsB7990Kl63Zr-q47PqC6o/s1600-h/j0438703.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivn52b0aMUgXFkmYuPVd_ugLTAmcoVH8s0ihsV8zDvcXQoIWZF6EyjRA76VAnywxxPKQkiifmFKNYPK_o-YP5srIbSTEyItHrrC48dJkRJKSD410xlVEl66FsB7990Kl63Zr-q47PqC6o/s400/j0438703.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222126807959254274" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Not a day goes by that I don’t think of something of yesterday</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Applying what I know to something of today</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Dreaming dreams that only memory can envision</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Such is a time of only indecision</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And I dreamed I saw a man who had fallen</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And I dreamed he was battered and broken</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And I feel for that man every time I see him</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Though he’s just a memory to me now</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When I think of all the strife and hardship I’ve endured</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">You realize that simple things, should not be ignored</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But I remember how it was and will not be again</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Yes I admit that I submit, to myself be friend</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And I dreamed I saw myself who had fallen</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And I dreamed I had battered and broke him</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And I feel from the pain, yet I dare to explain</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Of a time of self destruction</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Who and what we are, is what we do</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Who and what you are is up to you</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I am one who learned from my own discretion</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Rather than curl up and die with no reaction</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And I no longer dream this distasteful distraction</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And I no longer dream of repeating my actions</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">For I am that man and the dream was real</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">For I am that man and I am here to reveal</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" >By: Donald B. Dousharm</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">DEDICATION:</span></span><br /><br />I was reading a story from a friend and thinking about my own experiences and decided to pull one of my poems for this particular post. When I wrote this I was living in the woods with nothing but nature for shelter. I used my hands and skills to create a safe haven for my dwelling. He has inspired me to quite possibly write my own story one day. <br /><br />I would very much like to dedicate this poem to a friend. He has lived through a hell that only the experienced can describe in such detail. He is a Writer and a Human Being in the most profound sense of the word. I am proud to call him my friend.<br /><br />Please read about his experiences in his own words.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="http://www.thehobodays.blogspot.com/" target="new">The Hobo Days</a></span>Don Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-46050233300145602322008-07-03T10:09:00.004-04:002008-12-09T11:14:22.576-05:00Out Of My World<span style="font-size:100%;">O</span>ut of my world I find that its reality,<br />I never knew I lost myself to fantasy.<br /><br />I hadn’t the time of day to waste on simple things,<br />Like family and paying such a price results in tragedy.<br /><br />Out of my world I never saw the other side,<br />Stability, security was not a fact of life for me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxlgp5-9OLAMpUHrXOyxvdjiEdF32qeE-7q6Tc3YpKxdR6KvZFdHCPnkAb2BsZN4IMhUhGDrj7Ze6Cd-zIHenATg8mT8ixfOCRhyphenhyphenoQliCbTN8VHvj-o75p2MbrMFm1tYNAlkZpvD5eEUs/s1600-h/imageEGI+%282%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxlgp5-9OLAMpUHrXOyxvdjiEdF32qeE-7q6Tc3YpKxdR6KvZFdHCPnkAb2BsZN4IMhUhGDrj7Ze6Cd-zIHenATg8mT8ixfOCRhyphenhyphenoQliCbTN8VHvj-o75p2MbrMFm1tYNAlkZpvD5eEUs/s200/imageEGI+%282%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218792383431025442" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >Why am I so blind, with a world of love outside my door?</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >Open it, step inside, step inside the world is all.<br /><br />What are you to me escape to reality.<br /><br />You want me in your world, but how do I leave mine?</span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Out of my head I find that I exaggerate,<br />Procrastinate; I never knew what I was doing anyway.</span><br /><br />I never looked to see what I was missing most,<br />Pure insanity, productive yet compulsive vanity.<br /><br />Out of my world I find that I have nothing<br />A negative, an adjective to describe an attitude<br /><br />Why am I afraid, when all I have to do is open up the door,<br />Step out of my world and into yours.Don Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-11906497467908447282008-06-28T19:00:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:14:22.747-05:00My Hat Is Off<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0tiFZZnCkNffz2orzCYQthqVtoxxbyp2NG59dQZ5dzoEpIqxR2L8oHD5VYP42kka_CMXv3WtTUSdqEn-k-EKaV_1qdCdI3AXB-lb57NZSjeMM5ANmpeVgdLRsU1MA7vVdO0bx9ePB5NM/s1600-h/imageFNJ.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0tiFZZnCkNffz2orzCYQthqVtoxxbyp2NG59dQZ5dzoEpIqxR2L8oHD5VYP42kka_CMXv3WtTUSdqEn-k-EKaV_1qdCdI3AXB-lb57NZSjeMM5ANmpeVgdLRsU1MA7vVdO0bx9ePB5NM/s320/imageFNJ.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217072336509624946" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">My hat is off</span><br /><br />Here’s to the people who have succeeded in getting under my skin<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">My hat is off</span><br /><br />Here’s to the people who have managed to get their own way, even if it’s wrong<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">My hat is off</span><br /><br />To all the selfish bastards who think the world owes them a living<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">My hat is off</span><br /><br />To myself in spite of all this, in all this time I have not resorted to drowning my sorrows and saying hell to it all<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">My hat is off</span><br /><br />To my love, who has absorbed some of my negative energy And converted it to positive thinking<br /><br />So please, please all of you<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">My hat is off</span><br /><br />Won’t you please, take a bowDon Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-37452809971054410002008-06-26T09:42:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:14:23.069-05:00Let It Rain<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5SyjdkGhWAqFSC-X39s7Mt1dH3hPmrjfIjLPu-4MERsxsR-dFUA3dB9ybNYKCCSxyG1BxzF42w5VexyfqfYWSIGMMbFBAViH5m3wmsyWXWN41HNfxDyTdm6jaUcH3EqEN-1gEbpxpd0o/s1600-h/imageAQQ.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5SyjdkGhWAqFSC-X39s7Mt1dH3hPmrjfIjLPu-4MERsxsR-dFUA3dB9ybNYKCCSxyG1BxzF42w5VexyfqfYWSIGMMbFBAViH5m3wmsyWXWN41HNfxDyTdm6jaUcH3EqEN-1gEbpxpd0o/s320/imageAQQ.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216186419900245570" border="0" /></a><br />I went outside for a walk today<br />And found I had a lot to say<br />Mother Nature was calling my name<br /><br />I told the stream I was walking by<br />Not to rise to fast or to get to high<br />Cause I like to sit and watch the fish swim by<br /><br /> In the pouring rain<br /> I was feeling kind of old<br /> In the pouring rain<br /> I was searching for my soul<br /> In the pouring rain<br /> I found my pot of gold<br /> If the sun don’t shine tomorrow<br /> Let it rain<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV247fK6w00PkKgqV_d7WEvDJyIgDD0WzQNHks47qFsnlOd1R1lcktIXlNyvgGsyu7zDafBWo8BZ_bomZw3w27b4MFr4e-951ykqTtdZ685VnPKJ361K8nLL5eowUObhi1QZNPIKzkFKo/s1600-h/image8OV.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV247fK6w00PkKgqV_d7WEvDJyIgDD0WzQNHks47qFsnlOd1R1lcktIXlNyvgGsyu7zDafBWo8BZ_bomZw3w27b4MFr4e-951ykqTtdZ685VnPKJ361K8nLL5eowUObhi1QZNPIKzkFKo/s320/image8OV.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216186117506608354" border="0" /></a>I felt the wind blowing through my hair<br /><div style="text-align: left;">Yet still I sat and didn’t care<br /></div>The lightning flashed and the sky began to cry<br /><br />The cold rain fell upon my face<br />I felt my heart begin to race<br />Embrace me Mother Nature, don’t let me go<br /><br /> In the pouring rain<br /> I was feeling kind of old<br /> In the pouring rain<br /> I was searching for my soul<br /> In the pouring rain<br /> I found my pot of gold<br /> If the sun don’t shine tomorrow<br /> Let it rainDon Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-49067394822111833062008-06-20T07:07:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:14:23.202-05:00Generations Apart<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjavyvcmJCldjtldu_MzsJOsGzSc1YKg1dTtvomrqtAIkiYLHVxWP0s_PfbLbSoAKf7HAT16MMxCMQLMIL2aRSdJ-FKWeXHLEzmXtEJPp8vzIBLVpru6cYcS9VXo81CQI2joHd8vuDHPkM/s1600-h/imageJKD.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjavyvcmJCldjtldu_MzsJOsGzSc1YKg1dTtvomrqtAIkiYLHVxWP0s_PfbLbSoAKf7HAT16MMxCMQLMIL2aRSdJ-FKWeXHLEzmXtEJPp8vzIBLVpru6cYcS9VXo81CQI2joHd8vuDHPkM/s320/imageJKD.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213919228173502354" border="0" /></a><br />I’ve got a lot to learn<br />As time stands still I have a moment<br />Having all the time left in the world<br /><br />Seeing all the little children playing out their roles<br />Playing catch, hop scotch, tag and hide and seek<br />A child is building mountains in the sand<br />Climbing up and looking over all the land<br /><br />I’ve got the world in my hands<br />Seeing all their happy faces, not a care<br />Remembering when I was a child, wiping my tears away<br /><br />Memories and imagination running wild, longing for the past<br />An endless thought of running through fields of green<br />From child to adult with nothing in-between<br /><br />Time and time again, I am withinDon Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-31534651639608834412008-06-07T20:15:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:14:23.686-05:00In A Pondering Way<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXJEPxObwuJuOr94LDeLzTiIt201QdWZlTl4TPpuV0vW7GgG0qfNF5_0wBXWTZQ9XSG0L6SW_oad4jUVmo6VMi7MLR_YVuf8PEODneiLcB_Zbfb80sDUOBUw7sLMaK06DVFVxmCt2Owg/s1600-h/image02M.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXJEPxObwuJuOr94LDeLzTiIt201QdWZlTl4TPpuV0vW7GgG0qfNF5_0wBXWTZQ9XSG0L6SW_oad4jUVmo6VMi7MLR_YVuf8PEODneiLcB_Zbfb80sDUOBUw7sLMaK06DVFVxmCt2Owg/s320/image02M.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209298171955082146" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">Oh to see the sun in morn<o:p></o:p></span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">On hills of old though weather scorn<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Shade trees wave their arms, so free<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">And stand so bold in front of me</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Oh such whispers my wondering ears<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Revealing secrets of so many years<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Oh bold and wise one, so free<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">I feel your secrets speak to me</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">We are so like, you and I<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">As we stand and watch the world go by<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Yet you are poise and stand your ground<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">And my impatience holds me down</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">The time has come for me to go<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">And I will try to take it slow<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Thank you for helping me to mend<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Oh tallest tree I call my friend</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Don Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-43534878268499139012008-06-01T06:49:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:14:23.882-05:00Just Fade Away<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-adfBmazTiKKq3CEzVn3sC96_zRleu9nzgINO_0iL73UrOlrgZe9lnFxsum7UpuCx2mmNbrrAb0vdZGwIu1rPXWRwconpM9eYFzFJewVeMA-oquGvjTpF8xFqd9-GRzN3B78U0jfujdM/s1600-h/imageGS1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-adfBmazTiKKq3CEzVn3sC96_zRleu9nzgINO_0iL73UrOlrgZe9lnFxsum7UpuCx2mmNbrrAb0vdZGwIu1rPXWRwconpM9eYFzFJewVeMA-oquGvjTpF8xFqd9-GRzN3B78U0jfujdM/s320/imageGS1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206863740057781746" border="0" /></a>Where are you going my fine young friend <p class="MsoNormal">The path that you follow has come to an end</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Your journey continues but which way to go</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So many choices but only you know</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The world that we live in moves quickly you see</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Make your decisions or just cease to be</p> <p class="MsoNormal">For death comes to quickly for those who stand still</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So follow your dreams accomplish at will</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So many voices will echo the way</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And so many listen the words they say</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And those that deny will squander the day</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And slowly but surely just fade away</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Where are you going my fine young friend</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The honor of ages are left to defend</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A trendy yet subtle approach to the day</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And when you speak they will hear what you say</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">For age does not maturity make</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The wisdom of years have all been a fake</p> <p class="MsoNormal">For wisdom won’t come with the number of years</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But how will you stop and open your ears</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So many voices will echo the way</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And so many listen the words that they say</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And those that deny will squander the day</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And slowly but surely just fade away</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So where are you going my fine young friend</p>Don Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-52254742952884444672008-05-31T21:24:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:14:24.029-05:00Empty Blue<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYuHadExXaLxkm87dY-cETPkDG7oSD4yhL-62YkTmAeTcyo5Yjjd1VHFLGGSjEkBt4hmuxYOLaESfz6JPsXvKYq3L_YVKG5gdNWLdDlMw_HTY1F12Dvy2g5PtFjkF06a6ac7hBnOhUnvQ/s1600-h/imageF7U.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYuHadExXaLxkm87dY-cETPkDG7oSD4yhL-62YkTmAeTcyo5Yjjd1VHFLGGSjEkBt4hmuxYOLaESfz6JPsXvKYq3L_YVKG5gdNWLdDlMw_HTY1F12Dvy2g5PtFjkF06a6ac7hBnOhUnvQ/s320/imageF7U.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206719523099427826" border="0" /></a><br />Oh the people on the street look into their eyes <p class="MsoNormal">Look into the eyes of all the people that you meet</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">What do you see</p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">What do you feel</p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">What do you want</p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">Is it real, oh is it real</p><p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Oh the people on the street have no faith in themselves</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Have no faith in you, their eyes are incomplete<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p><span style="font-style: italic;">What do you want</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">What do you get</p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">What do you take</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic;">Do you fret, oh don’t you fret</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>Oh the people on the street, they look into our eyes</p> <p class="MsoNormal">They look into the eyes of all the people that they meet</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">They look at you, they look at me</p> <p class="MsoNormal">With Empty Blue</p>Don Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-73325418557149977912008-05-31T05:11:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:14:24.328-05:00Harmony<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRb1h7zhldUK7Xz_TzaN_ZTUi6L9OPOU3ZgOrltqIP_zgO505FqN4rdcKkHZdE-fgAYJBOPUqRWNfboluq1VXMFoht0LplhKCngo5Y-A7XMrbZ5J1Pn6UwcDgTBI_is9a1opJ1tU5YVgo/s1600-h/image2TK.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRb1h7zhldUK7Xz_TzaN_ZTUi6L9OPOU3ZgOrltqIP_zgO505FqN4rdcKkHZdE-fgAYJBOPUqRWNfboluq1VXMFoht0LplhKCngo5Y-A7XMrbZ5J1Pn6UwcDgTBI_is9a1opJ1tU5YVgo/s320/image2TK.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206467915325293522" border="0" /></a>To love in this world is a wondrous thing <p class="MsoNormal">You praise every moment that life brings</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Having the courage to share in a soul</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The darkest of secrets no longer a hold</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">To share in one life of intimate realm</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The passion and pleasure that overwhelm</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Acting a child in spite of your age</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The presence of joyous youth without rage</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now the storm has blown over and the sky becomes clear</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The presence of singing bird songs, so dear</p> <p class="MsoNormal">As the sun shines so warmly down on our face</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Shows the grace and beauty of a wonderful place</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">If grace and beauty were husband and wife</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Creating a child to share in their life</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Is tenderly held so lovingly</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Who carries the name of Harmony</p>Don Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187318975619562954.post-3387173410240127102008-05-19T18:59:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:14:24.516-05:00Wayward One<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ST9veoT91zPOTqNp5oWEVj_wlEs1a2DLoqDzPIEjdjs26r5qdgo_ZqmdisGhuPThbaapP4lz865DcApiN2bHq7h5pJ71qMMMa3gN9GcxxrvXIUKhUbx3CfqdBxZBQ3INvAEs2KgoJQo/s1600-h/imageHA7.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ST9veoT91zPOTqNp5oWEVj_wlEs1a2DLoqDzPIEjdjs26r5qdgo_ZqmdisGhuPThbaapP4lz865DcApiN2bHq7h5pJ71qMMMa3gN9GcxxrvXIUKhUbx3CfqdBxZBQ3INvAEs2KgoJQo/s320/imageHA7.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206727584753042434" border="0" /></a>In your eyes I see a lonely emptiness <p class="MsoNormal">Stricken by the fears of all you see</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Perhaps mistrust in past is all you know</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But do you see the same inside of me</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Wayward one, inside the sun</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The warmth of a thousand lifetimes has begun</p> <p class="MsoNormal">To be one, in the sun</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">May I be the one to ease your pain</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Or will you go on pushing me away</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Friendship is the only thing to gain</p> <p class="MsoNormal">That’s all I have to offer you today</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Wayward one, inside the sun</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The warmth of a thousand lifetimes has begun</p> <p class="MsoNormal">To be one, in the sun</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m telling you that I am lonely, just as much as you</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And you need me this much is true, and I the same of you</p> <p class="MsoNormal">They say everyone finds themselves, to thine own self be true</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’ve found myself to be an image of you</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Wayward one, inside the sun</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The warmth of a thousand lifetimes has begun</p> <p class="MsoNormal">To be one, in the sun</p><p class="MsoNormal">To be one, with the sun<br /></p>Don Dousharmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16357451052510330204noreply@blogger.com0