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Hi! I'm new to this network. I'm enjoying reading all the correspondence. I wrote a couple of poems about my PD experience. I thought I would share them. Not literary classics, but some of you might find them interesting. Phil McCrillis VOICES The voices tell me "Wait, Don't try that yet." Or they say "Maybe you can't" Or ask "Do you know how?" And when I listen to them, and their voice is soft and kind, my steps begin to hesitate into that familiar shuffle where my feet do not want to go forward even though they know very well how after all these years. And clothes, especially socks, seem not to want to come on my body because my hands do not know how to call them And I seem to forget how to turn over in bed, how to start that task Even signing my very familiar name has a how-to-start question attached and as I type my fingers do not seem to want to get to the keys. And I sink into the voices But I have learned not to listen to the voices, at least most of the time. Their quiet gentle invitation to be crippled Because, make no mistake, that is what they want They are not friends hoping I will rest Soothing me when I am stressed They are the enemy Who want me to slip into death Not real death, that would be all right But fearful, hesitant death That takes life away just as surely , But with no promise of any kind of heaven They would love me into dull-eyed shuffling existence If they could But they cannot I will not die their funny death for them I will live boldly in spite of them I will not fear life for them I will live it for me and those I love. A BAD DAY This funny sickness has me again in its grip. It does not make me bleed but rather twitch It does not give me pain but rather shakes It shakes and twitches me so I cannot sleep It reminds me quickly if I have not exercised When I think the fork won't tremble it does But not when I think it will ...strange! It is like it exists on its own causing my body to betray itself to me and to the others who pity while I burn with annoyance and embarrassment Sometimes it is all right Sometimes it is not And today is one of those My body annoying me with its insistence and drumming Tensing on its own Making me feel tense when I am not Reminding me of its long term grinding presence That will never go away Until I leave it to go away. It is true that shit happens It is true that I am learning from it all It is true that I am little impeded In my journey, wherever I am going But today I'd rather walk there than shuffle I'd rather have handshakes than hands shake I favor eating the things on my fork or spoon Rather than spraying them on myself or the room Sleep seems preferable to twitching All in all, Lord, I think it, In the words of the Bard, Sucks!