My Body
Is evidently
damning
I plead for
Clemency
I do not
Wish to leave
Not my time
I do not
Want to serve
My changed mind
An Unspeakable
Sentence
An inescapable
Outcome
Fugitive
In
A fuge state
Pardon me

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

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

scorcher
irreverent
cocky
fire *******
such luminosity
defying expectations
suscitavit a canibus
they dominated you
feral pack
left you no scraps
rescued
via one
whom recused
not up to the task
cannot fill in the gaps
teach you the facts
but some teachers trespass
broke free from their fold
swallowed them whole
insoluble
intolerable
Yet such luminosity
Wit
Generosity
Unfiltered
curiosity
Deprived of the basics
A need to know basis
Survival instinct
Relationships
Extinct
In some fashion
An artists
Rendition
Creative spark
Nuclear fission
Compassionate
Empathetic
For all you will listen
Except for yourself
A struggle
Willful prohibition

I never could
Read between
The lines
All I see
Is
The space
That
Separates
You
From
Me

Momentarily
I will be still
Eventually
I will be still
Eternally
I will be still
Perpetually
Restless will

Hit the brakes
Jaw drop
Come to a
Short stop
Stop motion
Mystery
Stick man
In front of me
Staggering
To watch you cross
Such a will
I'm at a loss
Pondering
As you pass
Steadfast
On your path
How long was it
To get to here
Atlas shrugged
He could not bear
The crushing weight
My future fears
An audience
Of just one peer
Time lapsed
In this spot
Freeze frame
Racing thoughts
Self flagellation
Shame on me
Marching cross
That may
Not be

Four months
Too long
Too cold
Too dark
Too busy
Held ransom
By reasons
No excuses
Idiopathic idiocy
Pathological apathy
Four months
Of pain
Eradicated by
four seconds
Of cycling
Cognitive breakthrough
A synaptic symphony
Endorphin re-indoctrination
Free flight
From myself
Four months
*******

at 4 A.M.
you do these things
they become habit
eating in the middle of the night
waking up as routine
contemplating your plight
contemplation
of you
what you do
in the middle of the night
is that really you
or a symptom
or side effect
did you choose the road here
or is it a neurological pathway
a chemical imbalance
a plaque to your horror
at 4A.M.
contemplating
taking things apart
or are they
taking
apart
you

I had hoped for spring
Impatient
For its promise
It's warmth and light
An insurrection of color
To finally topple grey
Such color
That my eyes are transfixed
Quince
My mind knows the name
But cannot contain
So much color
It burns
But the sky opens
Winters wrath
Cold and grey
Merciless
reminds me
Of the frailty of things
And rescinds hope


You had hoped for spring
A new awakening
A promise
Fraternity over fear
Independence instead of
Autocracy
We were transfixed
Arab spring
Our mind knows the name
Yet does not grasp its meaning
We watch warily
As the sparks
And the ambers catch
But the winds change
And you are but
A faraway fire
In a faraway place
So much apathy
Reminds you of the frailty of conscience
And rescinds hope

I wanted to write of spring
Of quince
Such color
That it hurts
The eyes
But the skies opened
And the rain burned
And through the tears
My eyes are transfixed
Such evil
I can no longer see spring
But see children
Side by side
Who will never
Be self determined
Or feel warmth
Or know spring
Again
And this is the frailty of
Humanity
And we must not rescind
Help

I am not in Kansas anymore
That much I'm ******* sure of
I'm trying to follow the road
But it seems to lead nowhere
If I walk it long enough
Diligently pace myself
The path should unfold
But I'm tired
And cramping
And there is no wizard
Or witch
Just me
Scarecrow
Tin man
Lion

Time bomb
That I am on
It’s all me
I’m a mess
Cannot cope
With all the stress
The drugs
The disease
Or childhood
It’s just me
I am no good
It’s my fault
I am to blame
Playing stupid children’s games
Wishing I could just might
Touch a soul and save a life
So that I may save my own
Duplicity I’ve got two phones
Broken man
Broken home
Broken wife
Cannot do this life stuff right
But I can write a lovely poem
Never leave it well enough alone

I watch the surfers
Sleek black forms
Bobbing up and down
Odd cormorants
Flocking here
Waiting
A New England rarity
Good surf
On a bright summer day
How long
have they waited
A life of
Vigilance
And anticipation
I wonder
Why they pass
On wave after wave
Opportunities lost
Having waited so long
From my view
Up on high
Their mistakes are
Laid bare
Future and past
A Rolling set
They wait
Adrift
ocean of time
Until the right wave
Comes
And carries them
Into the present

You're off
Key
Clearly off
Kilter
Drunk
On yourself
A bottomless
Unwellness
Which you
Have fallen
Down
But I'm
Not falling
For it
You're not
Safe
You
Have made
Me
Out
To be
A monster
Not to be
Trusted
Who can't protect you
From the fact
That you need me
Now
But I
Cannot protect
Myself
From your
Past
Or my future
Let alone
Protect you
From what
Should have been
Left well enough
alone
That's what we
Are
It's
True
It's traumatic
It's triggering
And you are
Holding
The gun

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

I know where I was
somewhere between
precisely where
i did not want to be
to what look liked
a promising path
to where I wanted to
arrive
calculating
my route
I was
distracted
a thought leapt into
being
I should write it down
take the picture
stop and savor this moment
be mindful
of your mindfulness
living in the moment
non judgemental
listening
watching
with intent
means you will not
discriminate
what you keep
from what you lose
that moment
you thought so important
flew off on a cloud
so this sentiment
will have to do
because I haven't a clue
as to what I have let
slip
away

writers block
sooner or later
it happens
to all of us
a story ends
without
an ending
words fall
having no where
to go
they will do
no harm
nor will they
do any good
let’s speak of it no more
ghost in machine

It was nothing
really
Nothing
I want to admit
Nothing
I'm willful
I don't want
To talk
about it
It's not my face
That gives me away
It's the pause
The fear
Of having
Nothing to say
On the precipice
Of my emotional
Abyss
Trapped in my Silence
Apathy as
Violence
You've Cracked open
the door
My nature
Abhors
A Vacuum
Is Filled
By defiance

awake
alone
night
and day
even the cats
who awoke me
have abandoned me
know better than me
how to satiate their needs
ruminate on my plight
stare at the harsh light
of a tiny screen
that casts no warmth
no comfort
illusory connection
nothing more
than a window
to mew at

The coffee here
or something that passes for coffee
sort of coffee
but watered down
weak
tasteless
benign
unstimulating
that's the best word for it
I guess that's it in a nutshell
where I am
waterdown
unstimulated
some approximation of
me

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

Winter
I know it's coming
Yet still it surprises
Catches me off balance
It's ferocity
It grinds all things
To a standstill
I step outside and marvel at its might
At a world upended
Abandoned
I am alone
Gale force winds
Are no match
For the crushing weight
Of winters silence

Winter
Is something we knew
was coming
Such dire predictions
Predicated with vague hopes
That it may not come
Or be like this
Still we prepare
For my winter
No, our winter
Although I fear it
Drains the warmth from us both
And shake as I might
I will not be able to warm you
In the cold winter night
I am still
Twitching
Restless and rummaging
For what I do not know

Winter
I wish to run out and greet you
Fly upon your winds
And float upon your back
Flee into your cold
And starkness and silence
Eyes tearing
Heart pounding
Lungs searing as
Icy hands pillage them
My frozen facade
Shattered
Fragmented
scattered
By a laugh
sparkling
bits of me
To show you
I am
still

Words
Are powerful
They teach us
Yes
And no
Love
And hate
They shape us
From the outside
With what we say
And from the inside
With what we think
They can erode us away
And build us up
Bind
Or break
Us
A beginning
Or an end
Ultimately
Starts with
U

You are not well
You are not yourself
Not anymore
From this pivotal point
Your sense of self
Will be in flux
As you struggle to
Redefine
You
All the while
Wondering
If it is
You
Doing
The redefining