I wobble when I walk and
Mumble when I talk.
I follow a path that’s been previously laid, by choices and voices the deaf ears of Parkinson’s made.
I’ve a voice that betrays the things that I say and ears that are silent to the tones that they say.
I freeze in my gait which is a step for those in the dark.
A trip and a slip is a walk in the park but don’t ever ask for me to not wiggle, its something I do for I’m stuck in the middle,
of being forced to move by mans little pills and ordered to freeze by gods very will.
So will happen to this corpse slowly made, I’ve fended off cancer and live with the shakes my friendships have left me for they’ve had all they could take.
Can’t t blame them I guess for its had to take
a voice that varies with sounds that it makes for they come from a face that tragically says something that’s different than what the voice has said.
Confusing it must be to live life by choice, to believe me is hard
when you only listen to my voice.
You’ve forgotten to know me and listen to the motions
this body makes with grand little notions.
Here let me take care of the little things in life,
so you can focus on keeping yours nice.
I’ve given up on dreams for mine get lost or frozen or are simply just dust. My actions will prove.
I’m a quality man,
if you learn to listen from
your heart not your head
then you’ll hear me quite simply
if you just listen instead.
Of looking for meanings that are lost in the dark for my friends I rather simply
I speak from my heart.
I’m not even sure where to start this post…..so here goes.
** when in doubt just start writing.
I sit and stare at these blank walls once full of life still full of memories.
My child at my feet in these early morning hours feeling the need for sense of home and togetherness searching for the it’s okay. To young to know it’s just part of life and to old to ask to be held so we sit just knowing we are one. Boxes all packed with just remnants of a life well lived scattered about waiting for that last minute push to hop in a box of their own or be left behind lost and forgotten.
This is my morning, this is my life..
A new home waiting to be loved and embraced as all homes desire to be. Filled with the joys and sorrows of human existence. The land waiting to be shaped into the vision of a new era a studio waiting with baited breath to come to life a nervous energy that fuels the broken borrowed bones just waiting to rest……. I need rest…. He, you, I all need that departure from the day and our ever racing minds and hearts. A momentary escape from the human condition.
As I sit sleeplessly and ponder these greater questions of life and change, so do I reflect on my past. As a child I mourn for it’s return as a man I’m thankful for its passing. Life I guess is always about moving, changing and learning new things. Thank you house for being our home our sanctuary. As with all things that are used to carry other things ourselves included. The more care and love you put into them the more you get out.