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Bhill 2d
Why oh why am I?
I am here because of you.
You and you alone...

Brian Hill - 2019#74
Inspired by Mom
My mother passed Mar 20 2019
Alzheimer is nasty and ****
~for the one who will know it was written for her~

muddy verb and adjective,
muddling and muddled

have you ever seen a pas de deux/deluxe,
one dancer, proscriptive,
and her partner, prescriptive?

the stage, of course,
exactly the width of your head,
from ear to shining ear

this couple o’muses dance en concert,
though their very natures are anti-logarithmic,
the value of their exponential activity is a
descriptive nomenclature

I am overly abstruse this Saturday morn,
mushing mathematics and ballet, verbal word games
as is my wont wanted,
everyone sleeping while I rise at 6am,
doing ablutions, seeking absolution,
pulling weeds from our respective gardens,
answering old friends I have yet to meet,
to whom I answer,
“still here, though long time no see,”
which is of course hysterical funny, inherently contradictory,
as the brain grasps well my Dead Sea brain cell splitting motif

muddling and muddled,
proscribed from getting on transport,
to deliver to you the proper healing prescriptive,
as if I had in my possess to diagnosis and correctly assess

even though one of my many passport names,
a requirement, to visit,
this inter-netting ether, that both combines and separates,
permits me safe passage,
over the historical lineage of borderlines of land and sea,
to deliver this message,
to you

I am here, waiting patiently, though long time no see like ever,
absentia, dementia, both self-censure,
here, then, my cadenza,
dedicated solely soulfully for you,
as the sabbath sun rises over the East River,
saying, laughing unto me,
“still here, though long time no see,”
for though I cannot look upon her, my sun, my sun,
yet she, as well, is everywhere-inside of me,
warmly illuminating my muddled mind
March 23, 2019
by the East River sunrise
Bhill Mar 16
She stared at me with the most faraway eyes.
I’m sure, I’m not known by her right now.
She wanders in and out of reality with just a blink.
She is trying hard to figure out who I am...
Am I Floyd?  A long, since passed, brother?
Am I her beloved son???
Am I a total stranger?
****, there is a tear of a remembered moment.
What could it be?
What could it be?
The sadness that clouds everyone near.
The spouses, children, friends and all support people.
Bless the support people...!
****, tears again..
Lost forever in this mind craziness...
Where is my mom.?
What is this terrible craziness that she is going through?
This is such an undignified disease...
Where is my MOTHER..?
And now the final moments of her life are about to pass.
How extremely sad,
these souls,
Will not have enjoyed
their last moments.
with living,
breathing, loved ones
in the room.
They will be
surrounded by long past
remembered ones.

Oh, the sadness in it all....

Brown Hill - 2019#66
Inspired by Mom. So sad to see!
Watching your mother, or anyone, go through this disease is a huge eye opener. I'm sorry for all out there who have, or are, or will be experiencing, what I call The Crazy Mind Madness...
Still Crazy Mar 12
“keep your dementia well organized”

it spreads to the outward edges like camera film alit,
burning inside outward, fast and quick,
the mutterings dispersed in voices
precisely loud enough to not be distinctly heard,
but perfect for your
active concerning consternation

you summon different voices for every occasion cause you
keep your dementia tools well organized

order is the successful methodology for maintaining
what otherwise appears and truly is, irrational rantings,
nuggets of chicken, you’re too chicken to loudly scream,
lest someone solves the riddles you are raving

it’s insane to keep your crazy so well managed,
it’s sane    to keep your crazy so well managed,
it’s crazy to stay sane, when your demented nature,
is dewy decimal handy for steady decimation

you laugh while writing this,
recognizing a well organized personality disordered,
is the key to success at anything you do,
like being crazy cool
you, still crazy after all these years,
do not lack for historical perspective

oops! typo, hysterical perspective,
old tricks for new doctors, renewable energy
never fails to confuse and amuse,
hard work keeping yourself entertained
at the medical professions expense

which is why I keep my dementia well organized
David Adamson Feb 20
My skin remembers your fingers.
My calm remembers your care.
I loved once and was loved.
Read this to me when I'm not there.
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