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I Hate It That I Love Your Poem- An Echo Poem

I Hate It That I Love Your Poem - An Echo Poem

By Lewis Raynes and Brian Johnston

Original Poem by Lewis Raynes of PoetrySoup.com
Reprinted here with the permission of Lewis Raynes

Fake me is better than real me

It’s odd how we all have a persona,
An image we’d like others to see.
My emotional clothing, my charm and charisma, 
It’s nice but it’s not really me.

The real me, my hinterland, the me of me, the “who” that I am,
Isn’t defined by any professions.
I’m not defined by my job, nor my house, nor my clothes.
I’m not defined by any possessions.

Possessions show that I’m cool, calm, I’m collected.
Always seeking a classy sort of style,
But on the inside the thoughts in my head go crazy, 
Like an untamed deranged juvenile.

Always overthinking random stuff of conversations I’ve had. 
Had years ago with my peers.
Thinking the best, then contemplating the worst, 
Battering myself with debilitating fears. 

I hide these fears behind fake actions, fake clothes, 
Fake talk and a fake phrase.
Convinced that a fake me is better than me, 
For now and the rest of always.

March 31, 2016


Echo Poem by Brian Johnston of PoetrySoup.com and PoemHunter.com
Reprinted here with the permission of Brian Johnston

I am who I aspire to be…

I am who I aspire to be; I was born free.
Only God knows the truth it seems; He gardens dreams.
So don’t judge me too harshly friend, cracks might still mend!
See what Kind see behind my fear, still, hold me, dear.

It is true that my image fares better in scrimmage
If my friends don’t abuse me, the coach might still use me,
Some will blink at the danger when I act like stranger,
But real me is genetic, a blooming aesthetic.

I feel pain when I regress and joy when I progress
But no tour in the traces my stumble erases.
Though there’s human remaining, I’m still horse in training,
And a soldier who’s bleeding, whose death no one’s heeding.

I can hear singing critics speak, “Argument’s weak,
Aspirations are good as dead; So’s your friend Fred!”(1)
But my heart finds the skeptics wrong, false logic’s song!
Aspirations are ALL you see, man's certainty!

While our clothes do not make us free, honesty can,
And though many may try for fame, what's in a name?
It is God’s wrath that I’d not see, don’t you agree?
His Grace frees me from feeling shame, Love without blame!


March 10, 2017

Poet’s Notes:
(1) Lifted from a previous poem where I share that God’s best buds call him Fred in casual settings, like a night out for pizza and beer!
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2017

Copyright © Lewis Raynes | Year Posted 2017

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