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I play by the rules day in and day out,
Showing my class, wielding my clout.
I take the hard blows time and again,
Knowing my patience shan't be in vain.

Joe's on the ropes, all by himself,
Waiting around to be dumped on the shelf,
Restraint is my friend, as I pull back and watch,
Those flailing wild jabs I so easily dodge.

There's one rule to fighting, it's Biding your time,
Showing him up, using his dime,
Keeping ones cool, letting him dance,
Then all in one motion - destructively prance.

There's rhyme to the reason for the 12
Rounds to be,
So everyone knows, all clearly can see,
The prowess of one, the demise of the other,
An abject defeat, no spin as a buffer.

The guys just a has been yet I'm giving him grace,
Watching him flail, not setting the pace,
The fun's in the waiting, a matter of time,
For him to fall over, his crown to be mine.
To make us think
Chris Slade Jul 7
It’s a slow slide to somewhere else...

He shuffles, stumbles stammers and he sleeps.

He knows I am his brother.
I help him go for a wee in a bowl,
we’re standing by the commode.

He shuffles back to his comfy chair

but only with my help.

“Are you my brother?”
“I am,” I say.

Six years is a biggish gap between siblings.

‘Our Brian’ tolerated me...

”Take Chris to the pictures”...
”Aw Mum, I’m 18... he’s only 12!!!”

He headed on out with his mates, smirking,
waving a *** and a ciggie.

But, when he needed a whizzo batsman for his cricket team,
who knew?
 I was strangely unavailable...
But, I capitulated and said “OK I’ll play for you!” We won!
At 81 he shuffles, he stammers, stumbles and he sleeps.

He employed 300 people in factories overseas,

spoke with authority, negotiating with emperors -
always with total ease.
Today he talks in whispers, his larynx squeaks;

clatters like a broken pipe, every time he speaks...

He shuffles, he stammers, stumbles and he sleeps
...for most of every day.
“
I am your brother aren’t I?”

“You certainly are”, I say.

He was the head of magistrates handing down the law...
I joked... I called him ‘hang ‘em high Bri’,

him judging slightly to the right of Atilla the ***.

I remind him of his past... We smile ...
(because of course it wasn’t true)....

The last thing to die will be his sense of fun.
He shuffles, stammers, stumbles and he sleeps.

He played prop forward for Birmingham Moseley’s first team, maybe his problems started way back when...

too many head clashes, line outs, scrum downs...

That’s the last thing you’d think about back then.
But there’s long term damage you might do...by just ‘being’.
He stumbles, stammers, shuffles, 
dummies
and scores in his dreams...as he sleeps.

He even went to garden parties at the Queen’s Equery’s behest
as well as, whilst in India, often - he’d be a Maharajah’s guest.
And, when you mention it, he just smiles wryly

and stares, with rictus grin. He IS in there!
That’s the trouble though... he sometimes IS locked IN!
He stumbles, stammers, shuffles, smiles -
and he does love to rest.
But sometimes he will rally with a string of memories
all lucid and true... and, if there’s food involved
he’ll be at the table way ahead of you.
That’s the quick shuffle!

He makes good progress 
through all his favourite stuff,
Then he’ll lie in his reclining chair 
and enjoy that customary nap

You watch him closely - making sure he’s still breathing
- thank heavens for that!

He stumbles, wheezes when he talks -

and shuffles when he walks...
He shuffles, stumbles...then he sleeps!
“You are my brother aren’t you?”
“You know I am - for keeps!
Love you Bri!”
At the time of posting this Brian, my older brother by 6 years  - now 6 years after his diagnosis of Parkinson's & Lewey Body Dementia...a slippery ***** it's escalating to being now nursing home bound... bed bound without mechanical assistance, doubly incontinent, unable to feed himself, sleeping 23 hours each day, incoherent when/if attempting to speak, obviously sporadically unable to understand simple concepts and speech from loved ones and staff...and bleeding family financial stability which HE would definitely NOT be happy with at all - at a rate of £1,000+ each week for his care... A Change in UK's law is essential!
Zywa May 18
I like to think I'm

alone all morning, drowning --


in a sea of tea.
Poem "De linkse is de droefste" ("The leftist is the saddest", 2008, Lies Van Gasse)

Collection "MistI"
Zywa May 18
What keeps me awake

is something I want to know --


and have forgotten.
Poem "De linkse is de droefste" ("The leftist is the saddest", 2008, Lies Van Gasse)

Collection "MistI"
Myrrdin Apr 24
I asked you this morning if we could see my mom
I woke up alone and not at home, I miss her, you know
We drove to a graveyard, when did she go?
I swear we were in her kitchen yesterday
Us and the kids and the smell of warm bread
How could you have traveled so far through time?
Did you forget about me and leave me behind?
I reach out for anything familiar, it's just you here
Older and newer, who did this to us?
They stole my skin and changed your face,
All they've left of us is our eyes, I see you still in the blue
Are you as afraid of me as I am of you?
Just because I do not know where I am
Doesn't mean that I am not your man
Where are the kids dear? Where is the dog?
Please, can I see my mom?
Zywa Feb 11
You still live in your

body, yet I no longer --


find you at home there.
Poem "Oppas" ("Nurse", 1981, Ed Leeflang)

Collection "Mist-I"
Alien Jan 21
Dear stranger,
I don’t remember who I am.
I’ve done the best I ever can,
But I have travelled more than two steps back
To reach my shadow  Of whom I once was.
Stranger don’t you cry.
Don’t you shed a tear.
My feelings for you stranger are still the same .
I might not know you, But I love and adore you;
for I am now a stranger to you too
and you love me all the same.
You call me husband, then I’ll call you wife.
Don’t you dare make me remember your name.
I am lost,  that I understand.
Kiss my cheek and hold my hand.
I promised to love you that’s all I know.
I’ll love you forever no matter the time.
The evidence on our rings show.
Myrrdin Nov 2023
I keep coming home
To visit you
But you are never there
Oh old man
Where did you go?
I see your body in the chair
Your cup is still half full
But you're eyes see someone new
When I'm sitting
Where I used to
I introduce myself each time
But you ask again before I go
I keep coming by
Just to see you
But old man
You're never home
Jacob A Frost Dec 2022
Lest locks look silver
Lest lips lose colour
At last I lead off life...
Alas! too late to live,
No loved ones left alive

Mind's a madhouse,
a maze most vile
Merciless Immortals
The gods up high
"Cruel, callous, capricious"
— laments the helpless lamb
Bereft of able body  
Bereft of able mind

The Highest Hive Hireling,
Now a wasted withering wether
While wailing willfully awaited
The howling hellhounds to end it
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