Body Image 2 Canvas


  • Life

    Body Image 2 Canvas

    How can I put in to words what made my body what it’s become.
    Pain, punished since birth, I’ve become numb.
    Since my first breath the artist has begun his work of art
    Dialysis, days old, his first work of art, there is where he did start.

    Through the year’s my body has lost some of its luster.
    Pushing on through it, courage, I’ve had to mustard.
    For now you ask me to look at myself, putting in to words what I see,
    A monster, look away, to you I plea.

    My mind focused on the negatives hoping for lightness
    Always dark, my mind, never any brightness.
    I’ve had thoughts of ending the masquerade I call life
    Always by my side, as a way out, my rustic, brittle knife

    Eye’s as dark as the nights skies
    Some night’s tears flow, reminiscing on life and its lies
    Tears of pain, happiness, ever flowing; day by day
    I can only see a mirrored image of my father, by what other’s say

    My mouth bloodied, dried, and yearning for a drink
    Is this death I’m describing, what do you think?
    Neck is as if I was cut up by Frankenstein himself
    My thyroid gland gone, in a glass, sitting on some shelf

    Arms short, hairy, due to medications
    No muscle, ripped my emasculation
    Left arm, tracks from past needled injections
    Right arm compared to the left, perfection

    Hands, skinny, shaking, tremors, have held my son
    Smoking, addiction, away I try to run
    Yet, my hands tarnished yellow, begin to shake
    Doors, barriers, my fists they break.


    My abdomen, central attention of the doctor’s work
    All these scars he left upon me, what a jerk.
    A railroad slices from my groin to my chest
    Scar’s that tell a story, those are the best

    The track tells of a long somber story I constantly ride
    Scar tissue, hopes, dreams, now buried deep inside
    Never an end to this work of art until my day in death
    Sadly, I look forward to my last day and my last breath

    I say this because these legs have walked a journey through hell
    Muscle torn, flesh decayed, I push on even if I fell
    A body well weathered from medical issues
    If you knew the whole story, tears fall, needing tissues

    My feet calciused and burned from where I’ve walked
    Healthy my goal, I constantly stalk
    Always out of my withering grasp
    Life on earth, promised, never to last

    So as I live my life walking as this beast
    Prescription drugs my daily feast.
    Now do you see the image deep within
    Where I go, what I see, where I’ve been?








    Poem Comments


    Please login or register

    You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
    leave comments/feedback and rate this poem.

    Login or Register

    To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

    Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)

    cowboyup1824’s Poems (38)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Body Image 2 Canvas 0
    Body Image 1 0
    The nothingness that surrounds us 0
    It's Over 0
    No Title 0
    I couldn't sleep! 1
    My Name Poem 2
    To My Son 1
    Giving Up 4
    The coming storm 1
    Time 5
    My Own Personal Prison 15
    Pen 3
    Looking Down (free verse) 5
    Do Not Pray For Me 3
    Today I Heard The News 3
    To My Father 2
    I Love You My Sweet Robert Ray 3
    Cut This Away 0
    Cutting 35
    Randomness 0
    To Dream A Dream 1
    Go Big or Go Home 0
    Starting Over 2
    My Sister, My friend 2
    Two Souls Becoming One 2
    Questions 0
    Now & Then 0
    Wood Duck 0
    This Is Life 0
    America Soldier! 1
    Duck Hunting 1
    Wandering Soul 0
    The Blowing Wind 0
    Guardian Angel 0
    The Fire Deep Inside 1
    Final Battle? 5
    Fallen Angel 0