A Garment of Rainbows

By R N Stephenson

A collection of poetry telling the story of the author from drug addiction to the point where he saw the light. Included are other non-published poems and a short story.
From living on the streets to being a moderately successful author mean Robert N Stephenson wore A Garment of Rainbows.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R N Stephenson
• Release date: Jun 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310246227

R N Stephenson

R N is a writer who has tired of the perfectionist model of the world and in their own small way attempts to enlighten people with wonderful stories and not so wonderful insights into life. The Pencilled in God is all about who we have become as a people, while all other works are fictions designed to entertain and distract us away from all we have become. Entertainment is paramount, so please, be entertained.

Book preview

A Garment of Rainbows

By

Robert N Stephenson

20th Anniversary Edition

Altair Australia Pty Ltd

FIRST PUBLISHED IN 2016 (A Garment of Rainbows) THIS EDITION PUBLISHED IN 2016 BY ALTAIR AUSTRALIA PTY LTD ISBN 9781310246227 (ELECTRONIC BOOK) COPYRIGHT © CONTRIBUTING AUTHORS ROBERT N STEPHENSON 2016 COPYRIGHT COVER ART © ROBERT N STEPHENSON. THE RIGHTS OF ROBERT N STEPHENSON'S COLLECTED WORKS TO BE IDENTIFIED AS THE AUTHORS OF THIS WORK AND HAS BEEN ASSERTED BY HIM IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE COPYRIGHT AMENDMENT (MORAL RIGHTS) ACT 2000. THIS WORK IS COPYRIGHT. APART FROM ANY USE AS PERMITTED UNDER THE COPYRIGHT ACT 1968, NO PART MAY BE REPRODUCED, COPIED, SCANNED, STORED IN A RETRIEVAL SYSTEM, RECORDED, OR TRANSMITTED, IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY MEANS, WITHOUT THE PRIOR WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE PUBLISHER AND OR THE AUTHOR.

A Garment of Rainbows

By

Robert N Stephenson

Thank you to

My wife, Alice and my children Emma and Joshua,

whom I love very much., and to Philip Stevens,

for all his wisdom,

CONTENTS

Introduction

Part 1

Black - the darkness in my life

Part 2

White - the light in which I stand

Just a reminder of now

Yellow Dresses

INTRODUCTION

I was born in Adelaide to typical Aussie battler parents. I did most of my growing up in and around the suburb of Hillcrest and this area was not known for Christian values or lives. It was a poor area filled with struggling families, drugs, alcoholism and domestic abuses. Yet in that atmosphere I learned love from my parents regardless of what our area was sinking into.

I can't give accurate reasons why not do I ever try to find the causes of my fall, but by the time I'd left school I was a a drug addicted alcoholic with little or no hope of getting a job or even having a future. To be young and directionless was typical for all in the area. I quickly fell in with a group of other young men and women in the same situation. We had no future prospects and the Government gave us money to help ease the hardships, in fact Hillcrest was pretty much a dole supported area. And while the dole was a little money it barely lasted longer than a week leaving the next fortnight to making money any way possible. Life was hard.

From the age of sixteen to twenty-one I lived as a drug addict. Most of the time I slept in the streets, mainly because I was too high on drugs to go home. I broke into houses, cars and shops to steal anything that could be sold to pay for my ever-growing addiction - the local police and I were on a first name basis. At one time I was even an informant on the local drug trade. Big time business had moved into the area and some unexplained deaths were growing. I lost friends to overdoses and accidents.

To say I was a mess is an understatement. I had no identity, no true friends and the loneliness seeped into my bones as the days turned cold and winter came. I was lost, my family didn't know where I was or even how to reach out to help me.

One morning in the city, after spending a night in the Angus Street lock-up, I stood in the street crying. I had nowhere to go. My parents wouldn't understand what had been happening in my life, and neither could I. As the clock struck 8.00 am, I turned and started arguing and yelling a man who had obviously stood behind me. I yelled and shook my fists until I realised I was yelling at my reflection. I had forgotten who I was and what I looked like.

I went to my parents and they did not turn away or judge me, they took me in and helped me heal. They took me to court appearances for all the crimes I had committed to feed my drug addictions. The people who I thought would never understand were the ones who helped be rebuild. I put myself into a rehabilitation clinic to help kick