Parsons - To Hell and Back

To Hell and
Back
Robert E. Parsons AuthorHouse 1663 Liberty Drive Bloomington, IN 47403 www.authorhouse.com Phone: 1-800-839-8640 2012 by Robert E. Parsons. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author. First published by AuthorHouse 01/10/2012 ISBN: 978-1-4685-3890-8 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-4685-3889-2 (ebk) Library of Congress Control Number: 2012900008 Printed in the United States of America Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery Thinkstock. This book is printed on acid-free paper. Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them. Contents Return To Mocking
Bird Hill . Born in an east central Alabama mountain town, this small country boy was to embark upon a journey that would put him face to face with Death, and Hell, many times throughout his life.

At age nine, he had his first drink of whiskey and fell in love with the taste and the feeling that came with it. In the following pages of this book, he tries to tell the story of his life in poetry form, to try and reach the still suffering ALCOHOLIC. This book is dedicated to all who have touched my life throughout the painful years of my active alcohol addiction. To all the law officers that saved my life, I say thank you for doing you job. The doctors and nursing staff at all the different hospitals, and all the counselors and staff of all the treatment centers I have been to, I say thank you, for loving me and trying to teach me about this dreadful disease called alcoholism. But the greatest thanks goes to my Mom and Dad, for their prayers and love.

Also all my other family members, my sister, and all my brothers plus close friends. Thank you all for being there when I didnt even know you were there. I love each and every one of you, and again I say thank you for helping me stay alive, so I can share the writings in this book, and maybe help someone else not have to travel the road I have traveled TO HELL AND BACK. Robert E. Parsons I was sitting in the living room of the house where my family and I were living at the time, when a feeling of guilt came over me like a tidal wave. As I looked at the pictures of all my loved ones, it seemed as though they were looking at me with disgrace on their faces, and I wrote
THE ALCOHOLIC.

Life is but Love, of one for another; But in order to make it, we must Love each other And when Love of self, we find is all gone; Some how we must, learn to go on: For life is too short, to lose GODS great gift; The respect, the kindness, and the understanding of self: How can we regain, this great thing we say; Get down on our knees, and pray, pray, pray: As I sit alone, these four walls I see; Pictures of my Loved ones, that hang around me God please give me strength, to have back this great gift; For if I do not, I may die in a fifth: T his next writing took place in the month of July, 1987. I had been taken from jail to a halfway house for alcoholics. I had been thinking about my drinking problem, and had began to do a lot of praying and these following words came from my memory of the pain I had caused a lot
of people. I called it
THE ALCOHOLICS PRAYER. Depression is so great tonight; From things Ive done, that werent right: But serenity, I must find; If I am to have, any piece of mind: I have hurt, and I have abused; And every life, I touched, I used: To get the stuff, I thought I needed; To many times, I have succeeded: GOD please help me, to be free of self; And pull the right words, down from
the shelf: GOD please release me, from these bonds; For I am one, of the ones: With a disease, called Alcoholism; It is a self created Hell, and a self Made prison: Now down on my knees, I fall and pray; Please GOD, give me strength today: AMEN T he following poem is about three of the best friends I have ever known. And they will forever remain my best friends as long as I remember what life was like before I met MY THREE FRIENDS.

Serenity, serenity, where are you
tonight? Are you like patience, some where out
of sight? Peace of mind, are you gone too? Please come back, I need to talk to you: These are my three friends, that dwell
within me ; For without them. where would I be? In a sanitarium, dull and dim? Or maybe a prison cell, gray and grim: It could have been a grave, so damp
and cold: But then I stop, and begin to think: My three friends havent left me
because my boat, did not sink: A bout Santa Rosa, this is a short story about some time I spent in a county jail. I didnt intend to get into trouble with the law that day, but as usual, I wound up in trouble anyway. I can say it wasnt any fun to be where I was, so I decided to
put it in this book. I went out for a ride, one bright and Sunny day; Got stopped by the Santa Rosa law, While I was on my way: Man it nearly killed me, when I heard what that JUDGE said; Son if you had just stayed home, you could sleep in your own bed: So these days Im serving, in this county jail; Brother let me tell you, this kind of Life is HELL: Nine more days to go now, and Ill be going home; Im going back to BAMA, never more to roam: Yes Im going back to BAMA, to stay forever more; Because it damn near killed me, when I heard them slam that door: ROBERT E. PARSONS T he day I wrote SOBRIETY, I felt so happy and free.

Then thoughts of when I was under the bondage of alcohol came back to my mind, and I recalled how I came to know about SOBRIETY, and thought I would share it in this book in hopes that it may help someone else find this wonderful thing called SOBRIETY. What is this things, called SOBRIETY? It sounds so calm, yet so mighty: The people at the meetings, that the JUDGE, sent me to; Seem to be happy, and they like me too: They tell of things, thats happened in their life; Them and me, seem to be a lot alike: They tell me things, that I should do; And I say if I do, will I be like you? They say that SOBRIETY, is a gift from GOD, and its free; But in order to have it, I must get on my knees: And ask for HIS help for today every day; Then SOBRIETY, shall surely come my way: I remember so well, the days, especially the mornings, after about with alcohol. The worst enemy I had was remorse, and what an enemy it was. I would be consumed by such a guilty feeling until at times I have had thoughts of suicide. At times now when I remember such thoughts of my past, I shudder.
There could be no other title for the next writing except
REMORSE IN ACTION. As I walk through this life Im told; Things will change, as I grow old: Help me GOD, with this glass in my hand; Am I a mouse, or a man? Is this thing, bigger than I? Help me LORD, to identify: I have lost myself, and my heart grows cold; Is there no life, left for me to hold; I know my end, is not far away; I Love my family, but what do I say? I Love you, I need you, please understand; I am not all bad, Im just a very sick man: I was sitting in a county jail, and looked at my surroundings, and thought to myself, I may be locked in this cell, but my mind, and soul are as free as a bird.

This is where FREEDOM came from. Sitting here from day, to day, as my body withers away; Trying to maintain my sanity, while my Loved one is far away: When I get out, I want to hold Her, and say Im sorry, my dear; But for now, I must stop this writing, because its hard to see through the tears: I know I was wrong, in what I did, but I didnt do all they say; And when its time, Ill stand my ground, and be a man on that day: They may have me, locked in this cell, but my FREEDOM, I still own; Because my LORD, gave it to me, on the third day when GOD called HIM home: A bout MY LITTLE ROOM. I was incarcerated in a county jail, when one night I woke up and saw a dim light in the hall just outside my cell door. I could not get it off my mind, so the next morning I put my feelings about this dim light on paper,