"fanthom" poems
Death toll on the rise
pain and suffering none too wise
Tragedy in unexpected moment
disaster in life a torment
can the heart fanthom life
Doth life answer worldly strife
Past a history to write
future a clueless path to light
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 3:47 AM UTC
The jagged cut from the dull, serrated blade of rejection. I lay down for you wounded, asking for healing and compassion. The absence of your touch wakes me to the shooting pain up my leg.
The infection of grief is growing as the reality sets in looking down where my leg once was.
I am an amputee.
My leg, my foundation of who I am, has been hacked off without anesthesia.
This separation procedure has taken months of sawing. Startled wake today hemeragging emotions at the wound of your disregard. Doc explained I've been experiencing fanthom limb...
"But we've been walking together, side by side. I've felt the strength and balance of two legs. When/how did this happen? " I protest in disbelief
Standing next to the mangled discarded remains, "one cut at a time" you reply coldly, the dripping blade still in your hand.
"But perhaps we will walk together again once you have time to adjust to your prosthetic"
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 5:50 AM UTC
I've loved the wrong people
But I've loved them right
I've learned how to love
The people I shouldn't have
I've given up my heart
I've shown up my art
Expected what they couldn't give
But I've done it right
I've loved purely and bravely
But the direction was misguided
But I can't help to fanthom
That maybe one day
The right person will show
And I won't love him right.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 12:49 AM UTC
They say we fanthom our thoughts to constellations,
but in truth,
my thoughts are fanthom to storms.
They say we have flowers in us,
but honestly,
I only have weeds growing in me.
They say we picture death in darkness
but all in all,
I picture myself falling into absolutely nothing when it's all dark.
They say our inner demons eat us alive,
but has anyone ever thought,
that it is ourself who surrender to it.
They say we love writing poems for it is our unwritten thoughts,
but the truth is,
we are all just too afraid of the surreality that our thoughts may never be accepted if we speak of it aloud.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 8:04 AM UTC
Claying in through desert fads
Like some of those old Utah lads
The perrenial sun is the scorching one
Like dumped up logic in deafed up pun
Passing through the graveyard cross
Halcyon of the deep loss
Now way ahead of time strands
The fanthom mark reminds me errands
Of every dawn that strikes me whole
Reminds me- for time, there's no dole
I can stop at mark and sob indeed
But a purpose lives, over I feed.
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 11:22 PM UTC
you got me
caught up in this metaphor
that is life
and
now
i cannot fanthom
what is wrong
and what is right
and
if only i could be honest with you
i would like you to know
that
all these writing that i do
is just a distraction from you
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
I travel back to the time you
Wanted to memorize my face
In each corner of your soul
I cannot fanthom how
It was easy to forget me
In the blink of an eye
I was gone
You never bothered to wonder
Where
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC