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.