Thrown Stone

Thrown stone

Cast it. Hum it. Text it. Tag it. Blog it. Bash it! It’s all the same.

Stones have new meaning in the world we live in today, just with different names.

They’re picked up and thrown on the wings of a paper airplane on the screen of your smart device.

Evil still delights in the venom being projected, it matters not in which way.

Let those without sin blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

I have a smearing campaign I’m participating in, no time for your word today.

The wrongs we have done, ourselves, in secret or in public -which corrode our inner being

Doesn’t escape the expansive vision of the One who is all seeing.

It’s weakness and lack of vision, rather diversion from the light

Which leads us down this very wide path to destroy another’s life.

To delight in perversions, to step out of our own spotlight, to join the mobs of the self righteous hulls-

Are the excuses we need to avoid the mirror while steadily bashing in each others’ skulls.

You see, a cyber stone or a concrete text are inevitably the same.

They’re hurled into this world’s wide web with intentions only to maim.

I struggle not to throw one, better yet to not even pick one up. To leave it where it lay.

It’s kinda like something I’ve heard before, or hope it’s something I think Jesus would say.

Instead, it’s rather, “in the name of God I wish they were dead!”

This is something that I’ve actually recently read.

I imagine myself being on the the receiving end of a horrific stoning. I’ve done bad things in my life and even threw some stones myself before.

I imagine what the woman felt when she was saved from it with kindly advice only to “sin no more”

That kind of Love is beyond our minds at times, but always in our reach

I guess I’ll shut up for now you’re getting stoned off hearing me preach.

Joel Prickett


The longest road

The longest road

There’s a road which runs to your mouth from your brain

Where there’s so little to lose but so much to gain.

These measly six inches can seem at times like infinity-

Sometimes they can cost you your life or your sanity.

The cost of holding back in saying what’s on your troubled mind

Can guide you to become emotionally crippled and lovingly blind.

The many road blocks established on this very tiny track

Can make moments fade away that you will never get back-

“I don’t know” “I don’t care” “whatever” or just mere silence

Obstructs this tiny path leading more to inward violence.

Stuffing down thoughts and feelings not allowing passage from the brain

Is actually in its own sense the definition of insane.

Its such a very short distance but such a long road-

At times like an overburdened traveler waiting to unload,

We carry these burdens forever, until we let them out,

Or they stagnate in our minds which leads to more doubt.

These barriers, these blocks, are of our own making-

We’re unable to see the end, of the road we are taking.

And fear or shame or pride or whatever it is which assists in the construction

Of these self assured road blocks which lead to our destruction-

Are the true obstructors of our God given abilities and humanity,

Which keep us driving on the endless road to this insanity.

To avoid the pitfalls of this sometimes seemingly endless route,

Is as easy as it is as just opening your mouth.

Let truth and love be your guide and you won’t steer wrong…..

And this very short road will not at all seem so long.

Joel Prickett


Their they’re there

Their they’re there


‘There’ is where there’s alliteration and there’s a poem about punctuation

which explains their situation of how they’re begging for communication.

This isn’t said with exclamation (!) but rather with “precise pronunciation.”

This may seem or sound like education, but that was then rather than now;

and where we’re at were it imaginable

is more like mental rehabilitation.

There’s no question (?) of your irritation

when you’re seeking grammatical gratification-

and your yore is hindered,

and your till is not full

until you’re full of distraction and frustration.

There’s no period(.) in time(:) where such pause(, 😉 was taken

to sort through the obstacles of proper communication

Than where we’re at now.

Whereto the two or more meanings have too brought us to this purpose driven point of ingratiation.

The mental expanse which one delves to both condemn and teach, a virtual human hyphenation (-)

does absolutely less than (<) nothing to improve the situation.

Rather it pulls intolerance further from stagnation

With pompous attitudes staring down on those with less education-

A grammatical force-feeding leading to extensive conflagration.

Superiority is truly a (delusional) flight of the imagination

With no prize greater than(>) the furthering of separation

of our kindred in whom we should care.

Is it really better up ‘there’?

In you’re perfect world in which your full of indignation?

Sometimes I two want too feel perfect to but have tew stop myself without hesitation.

It’s possible to help or teach someone with the air of love and humility rather than beration.

By Joel Prickett 2/1/19

Cubicles of mankind

Cubicles of mankind

Evolution!!! Here we are at highest height, greatest greatness and pined for pinnacle.

While each of us, everyone of mankind is designated their own cubicle.

The most intelligent intelligence, brightest brightness and wisest wisdom

Has delivered us here, to our alone kingdom.

The perpetual perpetrations, the neglectful neglects and selfish selves we inflict inwardly-

Has left mankind aimlessly aimed and willfully laid waywardly.

The cubicles of mankind have been constructed, molded and skillfully planned-

All evolving in congruence and paralleled with greater technology in our hand.

We departedly depart, vacantly evacuate and lovingly leave from our greatest asset as a race- our humanity.

With our noses in our TVs, phones, pads or keyboards we blindly blind ourselves from our own calamity.

Please stand for a momentous moment and glance over the partition of your mind.

Find your neighbors, friends and family-reach into their cubicles and find…….

Caressingly caress them

Lovingly love them

Beholdingly hold them

Touchingly touch them

Talkatively talk with them

Laughingly laugh with them

Soulfully sell yourself for free

Be a being with them, to them and for them

A human being

This is your freedom from the cubicles of mankind.

By Joel Prickett 8/8/15

Soul Searching

Soul searcher

The exterior covers the precious soul-

It’s what is seen by fixed eyes,

As a human disguise to prevent connection and give our human race it’s whole.

Unfixing the orbs is the chore that most negate by choice-

And choose residing in the superficial regions of gender, race and voice.

To live this minimal life has taken hold

Of our humanity, and it’s taking its toll.

We no longer reach inward toward each other, rather repel the disguises and feel good with our choices-

All the while negating each other’s soul.

Resetting the mind and heart is the mightiest feat, when we approach each other, where or however we meet-

And gathering courage and love granted by our own souls’ strength

To stretch our vision to a further length. To find that persons soul.

Soul searching takes new meaning when you’re not focused on yourself.

The souls purpose is not meant to be placed upon a shelf.

The greatest possession, as a human, that we own is being pushed further away from its truth.

We withdraw into our own comforts, needing more and more assurance while the soul lies dormant with more than enough proof.

Search each other’s souls-

Let it be your guiding force-

Let others search your soul through your life’s course.

You’ll find your soul has more abilities than you can imagine.

Your soul can soar to places you have yet to fathom.

Yes. Your soul can soar.

By Joel Prickett 11/26/15

What interventional poetry means to me

Interventional Poetry

I’ve lived a life of many facets from childhood agonies to young adult tragedies and dysfunctions to middle age recoveries and spirituality. My poetry has ranged and evolved with these changing facets and began with love and angst, anger and pain and has also evolved to speculation and observations with my god given gift, one of my purposes in life, to help people with my poetry. My later poetry is more solution based with directions to assist the tortured, agonized and addicted with my own personal advice to the reader. I have always liked the term ‘interventional poetry’ to describe such help.

Joel Prickett 5/1/18

The day I found God

The day I found God

I was in rehab. For the 3rd time. And I was resolved to only 1/2 of Step One- that I was powerless over alcohol. I still had reservations that my life was truly unmanageable (by me) and was adamantly opposed against the idea that the “higher power greater than myself “ could or even would help me. I really hated God at this moment in my life. I blamed Him for everything bad that happened to me in my terribly dysfunctional life. I truly despised Him.

I was in group. In “the circle “. And lo and behold the subject was God. I sat there hearing (but not listening to) the other people spouting their praises and joys at the relationships they had with Him. But I couldn’t connect. I couldn’t relate. I was aggravated and becoming more irritated with each minute passing and each person sharing. This was bullshit!

The counselor (I guess) noticed my body language and noticeable disgust with this particular subject and decided to call on me. I told her I didn’t have anything to share. She persisted and expressed my noticeable discontent of this particular subject and her own observations of my behavior when it came to the God topic. She asked me, “I would like to know what you really think of God.”

I exploded. I became so angry. It’s not like me. I replied to her. “You really wanna know how I feel about God?!! FUCK GOD!!! That’s how I feel!”

It really was a pin drop moment. More so was the shocked look on the group members’ faces. I had no regrets of what I just said. I was justified. He never was there for me. Never. I was 33 and never once related to these joys and praises I heard with deaf ears and closed mind. God wasn’t for me.

I can’t remember the counselor’s name but she was the least shocked in the room; I could tell. She calmly asked me to stay after the meeting and speak to her. The meeting went on for just a little bit longer but I blotted out the remainder with my own destructive voice cursing myself for being stupid enough to be honest especially in a way that might get me kicked out of rehab. I knew the “hot water” game. I knew how to lie, manipulate and “play along”. My career was on the line here. Yes, that’s what I was really thinking.

After the meeting the counselor took me in her office and talked frankly with me. I really had no respect for the woman. She was a country bumpkin. Uneducated. An ex-meth head. Simple and plain in appearance and manner. I truly believed there was nothing for me to learn from her. I looked down on her. Looking back now, I truly believe she knew how I felt and didn’t let it deter her.

“Joel, why are you here?” She began.

“To get sober” I replied. (Easy enough)

“Do you REALLY wanna get sober?”

“Yes” I said. (It really was the truth)

“I’ve watched you for the past couple of months and I know how you feel about God. But I really need the truth about you wanting to be sober!”

I thought for a second. About my last drunk. The terror of my bottom. My life up to this moment.

“Yes. I really want to get sober” I said.

“Then you’re gonna have to trust somebody other than yourself,” she replied.

I guess she saw the disappointment on my face. This was impossible! I truly felt like I’ve never trusted anyone in my entire 33 years of living. Other than myself. It was a sad thought but it was the truth.

“Where has it gotten you to, Joel? Trusting only yourself.” She asked.

She had a valid point. This little bumpkin had me over a barrel. A very realistic moment. I had to wonder what was the harm in trying. I was thinking of ending it all not long ago. It wasn’t what I had planned for myself.

“Nowhere” I heard myself reply.

“Will you just try trusting me for a few minutes? I want to really help you.” She inquired.

I was suddenly scared of what was going on here. I was in unchartered territory. What was she talking about?

“Ok” I said.

“I know this isn’t easy for you but I wanna try a little exercise with you. But you really have to trust me.”

Another moment of reflection. I really wanted to get sober but was never successful. I tried on my own hundreds if not thousands of times. This is where I got me to. To this one weird scary moment with a woman I would have never trusted. Never. But I did at this moment.

“I do.” I said.

“Okay!” She began. “Now I want you to close your eyes and just listen to me”

I did as she asked.

“Now I want you to take all them thoughts in that big ole’ head of yours and empty them out! I know there’s a lot in there but I need you to empty your head completely for me”

[Side note: in previous groups and meditation exercises I had a pretty good idea (from previous rehabs and self searching for knowledge) of ‘exercises’ to complete such a task. And she knew this.]

“Ok” I said. And used imagery (thoughts in balloons, lol) and breathing to achieve her request. I was trusting her.

“Keep going, I know there’s a lot in there. I need it all out.”

I was exerting some serious mental energy now. It really was as if I was falling into a semi-trance state at this point. My brain seemed as if it was becoming an endless void of blackness. It really was pretty empty now.

“I’m there” I heard myself whisper. It sounded like a voice in the wind from miles away.

“Okay Joel. Keep your eyes closed. I just want to ask you one question. Where is God at in your life right now?”

An image immediately came into my mind.

A very disturbing image. I was standing at the rear of a car. A big old car like from the 70s. And the trunk was open. And I was looking into the trunk. It was an image I’ll never forget as long as I live.

Inside the trunk was a man. He was alive but it seemed like only barely. He was old with thick scaly grimy skin which was layered with dirt and filth. He was dressed in raggedy filthy clothes tattered with holes and wear like he’s been in them for years. His long gray hair was matted, unkempt and mangled. The smell was repulsive. He hadn’t bathed in years either. I then noticed the duct tape. It was new. Shiny. Strong. Secure. It was wrapped around his wrists behind his back. It was wrapped around his ankles. And it was over his mouth.

But the eyes were what got through to me. Again I’ll never forget them. They were pleading. On the verge of tears. They were begging. They were so full of knowing and in the same so full of sadness and pain. It was the strangest moment in my life with a single thought of at first thinking he was begging for my help and then coming to realize he was begging me to let him help me.

This was my conception of God. This is where 33 years of self dependence tormented by dysfunction and addiction has led me in my belief of him.

I felt so ashamed. So guilty. I hurt physically all over even though I was still standing in this room with eyes closed with this little lady who led me here. To this point. To this realization. To God.

My eyes snapped open. She was still there. In front of me reading my eyes like a shock novel displayed to her in its entirety in a split moment. I wish I could’ve seen my own eyes at that moment just by the look in her eyes. She threw up her hands quickly in a halting gesture.

“Don’t answer that! I don’t want to know the answer!” She had a half shocked half grin on her face.

“Just know that now you have a place to start. To begin your relationship with Him.”

I was truly stunned. I was mentally outgunned by this woman who I was looking down on only moments earlier. Now I was suddenly full of admiration for her. The only thing that came out of my mouth was “you bitch!”

This is one of my truly defining moments in not only my sobriety but my life. Many of my stories take place inside of my head but they really are the truth as I understand it. These ‘spiritual moments’ (especially this one moment) have led to more and more trust in God over the years. I’m still practicing. But I can truly say when I think about God and a car now He is the one doing the driving and I am so happy to be a passenger on this journey with Him.

And I now have a deep desire to achieve a life of simplicity. To be the simple one. To look at the world as a passing in which I now have a chance to help others. I hope this story will help someone. If it even helps one person to find God then I would honestly be satisfied with that. Thanks for your time reading this. It been affectionately called my “God in the trunk story” by many fellow members in recovery.