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John Reilly Aug 2017
Pick a number
One to ten
Such calculus
I find
Impossible
Uncharted territory
My inverted world
There is no translation
For things that are
Difficult to put into words
Are inumerous
Therefore y
Being undefinable
Makes for an algorithm
Whose sum cannot
Be proven
Logically
A tangent
Of acute panic
An irrational
Conclusion
John Reilly Aug 2017
Why
What am I doing
How did I get here
Why bother going on
In your mind
Out of it
A troubled past
Or a bleak future
Yet I am
Present
I didn't see the point
Yet something pointed me here
I thought i can't go on
Yet now I'm writing poetry
I thought I needed solitude
I found solidarity
I thought that I was weak
Asking for help is strong
I've edited this, switching the second part to  "I". Originally they were "you" because I wrote this poem  while in the hospital and wanted to help;My wife (a much better poet!) pointed out that person change and how it's much harder to write from first person....which was part of the reason I was in the hospital in the first place, I needed to learn you gotta put your own oxygen mask on before you try and help others.  I did leave  hand written copies of the original around the ward when I left.   Now I'm not saying I did do it, I'm not saying I didn't do it, I'm just gonna say the coyote outside didn't move in his own!
John Reilly Aug 2017
I stare down the beach
Past the sand
It's gradient
Shifting from light to dark
Dry and fluffy
to wet and hard
Past the water line
Where children Play
summer games
Where summer is
Still a verb
Past the tiny frigid waves
That quickly conquer
The body
Past the buoys
That trigger
Shrill whistles
For errant swimmers
Testing boundaries
Past the powerboats
Racing
towards the  Weekend
Past the improbable *******
Momentary refuge
As temporary
as a beautiful
Summer day
Past the sailboats
And their
Loitering indifference
Past them all
to the horizon
An illusion
Of affinity
A paradoxical
Infinity
where cobalt skies
And azure seas
Conspire
To never meet
John Reilly May 2017
Clack clack clack clack
Bing zzzzzzzzzzzpppp
That's the sound it makes
Not Parkinson's
My typewriter
That's the sound it will make
When I type up this
I really don't know what sound
Parkinson's would make
I really don't care
Ha ha
That's ironic
Apathy is a symptom of Parkinson's
I've just used against it
So yeah, I will sit at the typewriter
And clack this out
It will make my fingers hurt and cramp
It will take effort for us both
Stubborn old machines
I will bend you to my will
And when time comes
To stuff me on a shelf
Broken machine
Obsolete
I will have wrung
Every last bit of creativity
Out of us
**** yeah
That's the type of person
I am
John Reilly May 2017
I don't know when you got here
Or how
I can only guess
Part genetic stowaway
Sure, maybe
Or you leaked in
Through one of a couple
Of cracked helmets
Either way
You're here now
And it's been so long
I can scarcely remember
A time without you
I can scarcely
Remember
Period
It's a fuzzy feeling
Not warm
Mind you
Or cold
I can't handle extremes anymore
Just fuzzy
My memories
When you got here
When I left
What's left that's me
And what's a
Symptom
Or side effect
Who I am
Who I was
How much
How long
Have you been
Orchestrating
This shakedown
John Reilly May 2017
I should shake my head
Yes
No
Give some sign
I am here
Am I here?
Yes
Somewhere deep down inside
It is hard to get out
Takes energy
Energy I do not feel i have
To escape
Outside
Escape
Out of me
Escape
Out of my mouth
Here I am
John Reilly May 2017
Shake the man's hand
No, not a just a man.
A doctor
A neurologist
Shake the Doctor's hand
He gave you something
He gave you Parkinson's
No, he did not
He gave you what you wanted
He gave you a diagnosis
He is smiling
He does not have Parkinson's
I know this Because
he can smile
He smiles all the time
Not a very big smile
He is hard to read
Not really smiling all the time
Perhaps we are not so different
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