Who Are You?

a poem, by Andy Johnson





I am flawed.


Clawed


I am the ghost voice rasping on the wind rustling the leaves of choice


I am the stag stabbed with seven tines


welsh left mountainblown working type


open caste


railing against type cast



you stand at the shore beautiful tall long


singing your siren song



I stand where the wind howls



I sing where the demons prowl



I have seen the face of dark



I have made a mark and same time fell short of a mark



I still admit to still hunting the snark




But I try to hear the earthsong that tells me I am ONLY



I am mortal



You were the portal to possibility painted with impossiblity



Caught in the draughty nights


Wanting to slam


Wham bang thank you man


I do my best


not blest with


so much zest



I feel the world scream and know where reason reams


Splits the seams and silent screams


I am ancient I am young


But always flung from sulphur


Smoke Ghosts chase me


demons real stalk me deep


I sometimes weep


in my sleep


Keep me safe no you can't


Too busy keeping fit


To keep


Things at bay


I am stubborn .


No


angel my angel


You are Masculine


While I am feline,


I am not The Hood really,


deep down though dark I know what’s good


or


could


could you be


could you


be could you be loved



? Could you? I am a libertine and sometimes wolverine, sometimes mean obscene but I don t need anything to demesne the delicate space where I breathe. Shallow draughts


Lest that make fire


God forbid I may inspire before I tire flopped out gasping on this shore beached


on this finerunning sand slipped through the hands



I over- react to these and many more things because I am an artist a poet a writer a creator… I love people I do the best I can to usually enable and ennoble them. I see my weaknesses and that makes me sometimes strong.