Archive for the ‘Poems’ Category

Matty’s ‘Because I got high’ Parkinson’s Poem

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Because I got High by Afroman

I was at the Parkinson’s meet until I got high
I couldn’t move my feet but then I got high
There was no birthday treat and I know why
‘Cos I got high etc
I was booking my carer’s flights but I got high
She was coming to the gala night but I got high
She’s stuck at the airport tonight and I know why
I was going to kiss my carer’s face but I got high
She was bringing a birthday cake but I got high
The cake’s still in her case and I know why
I was going to raise a birthday glass but I got high
Drink champers with my lass but I got high
Now I’ve got no brass and I know why (and so on)
Now we are miles apart and I know why (so on)
Now we are miles apart
No message from her heart
She say’s I’m a silly old (laughter)
I was going to ring the boys at home until I got high
I lost my mobile phone
I can’t send a message home
I was going to make sweet love to you
Send you flowers too
My girl said we’re through
I was going to sing a song or two
So I lit up in the loo
The Holiday Inn bored me too
I’m messin’ with this song
I’m know I’m doing you’re wrong
But if you’re taking Parky drugs
You will be high, you will be high, you will be high

Matty’s ‘The Heart of Parkinsonism’ Poem

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Oh what is Parkinson’s Disease
That brings its victims to their knees
Shakes their world from end to end
And forces the body to shake and bend
Lack of Dopamine in the brain
Means their life is not the same
Why this ode?
What’s the point?
A cure for all is what we want
Help research, join us today
The Newcastle Branch
Of Parkinson’s UK

Thanks For Listening poem

Truly a lady, not at all what I expected.
Charming manners, not aloof, talks to you, not at you so one doesn’t feel rejected.
Approachable, composed, but thorough and in command.
Explains in plain language what one needs to understand so that each patient knows what changes are to be made and recorded.
This reassures one so much. PD is to be controlled. For the effort and time taken, this must be applauded.

The chemical imbalance becomes a tedium, a scourge.
Could a new science, shrinking things infinitely small, purge PD. And could a new way of treating PD, nanography or whatever its called, be found.
Accurately targeted to the special centres of the brain, quite powerful healing instructions to nurture stem cells be installed. Precision to strictly aim at curing PD, send it back to place from whence it came.
A restricted budget mustn’t be a reason to prevent research on a massive scale.

Dedication and wisdom and tenacity have always prevailed.
… will find solutions to problems where others have failed.
Thank you for you patience and caring and thoughtful repairing.

Ruth Nicholson

A Neurological Nightmare poem

A pain in the neck is what I’ve got
You may think to yourself so what
Spondylosis has been mentioned
And I’m sure twas good intentioned
Can somebody enlighten me please
Does ones health collapse at this disease
Problems galore beset me then
I’m lucky I can use this pen
My shoulder blade protrudes lopsided
My arm won’t swing, unless it’s guided
My shoulder girdle has no power
It gets weaker by the hour

My movements slow and sometimes stop
Affects my right leg, shall I hop?
Fingers frail and almost useless
Make my efforts seem quite hopeless
Like a tortoise getting ready
Cos my legs are not too steady
My neck aches when I lie in bed
And sad thoughts race through my head
Manipulative skills diminished
Dexterity now almost finished
Lots of things now I can’t do
Frustration at my plights breaks through
Right external ear sometimes goes numb

Balance not too good now chum
Need help a lot, to manage now
Can’t wash my hair or mop my brow
Need help with clothes, buttons and bows
Seems all my life’s skills ups and goes
Tremors in my arm and leg
Self conscious at needing to beg
For help to get well if I can
Is it too late to ask of man
What’s wrong with me, I’m in a mess
Let us just hazard a guess
Cerebral problems, tumour or stroke
Be serious this is no joke

This neurological wrangle
Which literally makes nerves jangle
Right foot plonks on the floor even harder
Couldn’t win a race, I’d be a no starter
Toes grip like claws on the carpet
They hurt from gripping so tight
Must adjust, now relax them, that’s right
I’m gradually getting worse
My husband now becomes my nurse
Well, can I get better? Or hearse?
I wake each day feeling sick
If I’m to expire, make it quick
Need to go with some dignity

Not get so that folk pity me
Goodbye cruel world, I shall say
Popped my clogs now I’m on my way
Hope to find peace at the end
Where nothing jars all harmoniously blends
Where the fetters of flesh are no more
No bars in the way of the door
Peace and happiness evermore
Absolution well may be overdue
What’s the answer? A concoction of hemlock stew.

Ruth Nicholson

Tethers End poem

I’m now back to crawling on the floor.
Freeze and can’t move to adjust my muscles to get comfortable.
Muscles on my left bum are flat when medication is low so they don’t support me enough to keep me sitting up, standing up etc.
I’m extremely ill at this moment in time and wish only for freedom from pain and struggle whatever it takes.
I want to be at peace with myself and the universe.

Ruth Nicholson

Struggle With Parkinsons Disease Symptoms poem

Struggle with PD symptoms
4.30 pm Struggled continuously to regain a comfortable position in vain.
Agony and torture.
Involuntary spasm of mainly leg and gluteus and neck muscles, also affected spine and mechanisms of swallowing. Breathing erratic.
Balance nil.
Dexterity, manipulative skills, speech etc affected.
I lean to the left and shuffle when walking.

Arms weak, almost useless.
Freeze and become statue like.
Cramp of toes and legs chronic.
Sleep very little exhausted.
Retention of urine at night.
Tooth decay, rapid tooth decay (side effect of Clomipramine).

Ruth Nicholson

Rigid poem

It feels as though I’ve been put on the rack
So tight are the muscles in my limbs and back
Joints painful because they’re over stretched
Cramped aching muscles, make one feel wretched
Feeling useless, vulnerable, angry, frustrated
So desperately lonely, and so isolated
So alone in this illness, how to explain
Describing the agony is beyond me, words fail me
I think sometimes the solution to this problem must be
To sleep forever, not to wake and to suffer
To slumber in comfort, relaxed, blissful relief
Happy and peaceful, no more worries and grief

Ruth Nicholson

Parkinsons disease chose me poem

PD chose me, I didn’t choose it
No one in their right mind would choose to be ill
But it happens sometimes in spite of our will
Who would choose to be disabled, like living in a sack
Well, there’s always the exception, like the hypochondriac
I think that even they would shrink from having PD
Cos if your incontinent you hardly dare sneeze
So embarrassing to blot ones copy
Or dribble in a way, that’s smelly or soppy
To lurch in a manner to one side or another
To shuffle like a sand dancer, with one foot in the gutter
Fine tuning gone, digits out of control
Slamming down on the loo, disappearing down the hole

I can’t decide now, how fast or slow, I move
Can’t enjoy dancing can’t get in the groove
Feet and arms do as they please
What’s the matter, did I freeze
Like a statue, suspended in space
Like an alien not in the human race
Can’t tap my heel down on the floor
Got no rhythm, and what’s more
When I want to dance it doesn’t happen
But PD takes me over, and I’m stomping then I’m clapping
Never when the time is right
As for the romantic side of life, it’s Good Night
Can’t relax enough to cuddle
Cos my muscles tighten, like some jigsaw puzzle

Can’t stride forward or even hurry back
Coordination’s what I lack
Please don’t stare or sympathise
Cos now I’ve come to realise
Dancing in the ballroom fashion
Can’t be done well not with passion
So I’ll pretend that all is well
And come from hiding in my shell.

Ruth Nicholson

Mobile toilet seat trauma poem

The toileting seat was grossly uncomfortable and I was sitting lopsided with my spine curved and neck looking to the left, very painful indeed.

My legs and bum were harshly pushed onto the loo where the seat nipped the back of my thighs causing long bruises. Adjustment may be in order or a notice put on the wall to say, ‘Careful this seat may cause bruising by nipping the skin when being pushed onto the loo’.

Ruth Nicholson

Comfortable Poem

I just want to be comfortable
I just want to be comfortable enough to get on with my life, e.g.
Go to the loo
Get dressed properly
I’d love to attend meetings, parties, birthdays, all family special occasions
Watch the television
Draw, write
Anything rather than struggle with PD symptoms and pain
If you would like to swap to see what it feels like, I’m your person.

Ruth Nicholson