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Caleb Johnson Poem
My frontal lobe is tickled by your exoticism,
Making one understand why choices made are extreme.
My talons grasp onto what I understand to be true,
Yet your grasp is mines true intention.
Your feathers itch and in my mind tick, tick, tick,
Tick tock self-loathing is eternal when I am in your arms.
Even as I sit here writing, you’re pecking at my poise.
Picking apart the pieces provided for promotion of personality.
“Alliteration is an amateur’s facade for failing phonetic frolics”
It says.
Yet to an extent I appreciate you, you ground me oh feathered monster,
I learn from you and I yearn for you but keep you at distance.
I pluck what I must from you, my dear poisoned beast.
I take control of my own life, from this day onwards.
Copyright © Caleb Johnson | Year Posted 2019
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Details |
Caleb Johnson Poem
For one so young you have experienced too much,
Too much death, too much hatred, too much change.
But this knowledge from the world’s thrusted touch,
Has made its surprises anything but strange.
From all it has taken from your soft, unleathered hand,
You have gained a sense of courage and pride.
Though sorrow inhabits, so strong you still stand,
To this realm and to the next, your heart had been tied.
You pass through your life in air so thin,
And happiness that morphs is all that you crave.
Accept the inevitable life that you’re in,
Know that you are in charge of the life that you pave.
The stars in the sky have looked on you and smiled,
Given you more than you expected to own.
So when people see you as an unknowledgeable child,
Know that it’s them who will one day be overthrown.
Copyright © Caleb Johnson | Year Posted 2019
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