"johnathan" poems
Nice right foot, Johnathan,
You’ve got the job if you want,
You can be the rabbit for the season,
The southerners need something to hunt.
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
Living in a world, caught between pain,
The arrogance of my heart, the insecurities in my brain,
A never-ending cycle, of true belief and true doubt
Almost sure I've reached my limit, need to find my way out
Like an inevitable cliché, I reach for comfort in the bottle,
As if an answer sits waiting for me in its hollow,
I've spent so many nights drowning through the years
No longer sure what I'm searching for, no longer sure if I care
Is it time to give up, to give in and move on?
Accept my place in this world and admit I'm not strong,
Or do I keep searching, and pushing for the light
For my piece of freedom to finally sleep through the night
I wish I knew the answer,
I fear I never will.
I hope I'll always care,
I fear I no longer do.
- Johnathan Andrews
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 7:22 AM UTC
I’m just twirling in the center of my room.
I’ve got way too much to do.
Has that ever happened to you?
I’m assailed, derailed and impaled by indecision.
I can’t find my lucky pencil and I have a final in 90 minutes
I have lab results to qualify and a term paper to finish.
I have two problem-sets due and I must arrange movers.
Despite my burn-out, I should start packing for move-out.
In order to get our reservations and tickets in hand,
we’ve got to finalize our summer plans.
On my theoretical schedule - I’m behind -
oh, and there’s a mountain of laundry to climb.
In finals week everything is ratcheted up.
and there’s the weighty and unavoidable demands of sleep.
I’m just a girl about to pass out in her room, over-caffeineed,
from chugging a large, iced coffee after 3 hours of sleep.
I’ve read that stress can affect valuations.
I think it’s true.
I twirl.
.
.
Down In the Seine by The Style Council
I Want You Back by Trijntje Oosterhuis
Make a Rainbow by Benny Sings
Let Her Go Into The Darkness by Johnathan Richman
May 3, 2024
May 3, 2024 at 10:15 AM UTC
Johnathan stepped first onto stairs,
Built to lift those below to status above,
Looming over a desperate campaign given form,
From hope shed a chance for more,
Stone sourced from many perils,
Donated in secret from those still leashed to slavery,
It was determined that Rick stand at last back.
To glimpse at tragedy's finale opportune moment.
It was a hastily constructed, mixed kingdom of ragged stone,
Colors arranged without taste or fashion, since neither is practical,
In times of war.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
I know how bad life is, so I saw this little guy driven.
So I ran outside to get a little high.
But I know that your not home and, I know that I've Droven you a little crazy.
Then you went home and got really really mad.... And I know that I'm not the person you would want, but there's alot of things that I've Said sorry for .
But baby just give me one more chance, hey hey ouu hey hey I mean so much to you.
And I love u , like you love me baby .
I love u alot Johnathan Locke baby
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 7:50 PM UTC
I am the puritan god
That dangles the puritan cross
Above their heads where they stand
At the pulpit of the ******
My brothers mouth gapes open
Chords rumble sweet honey
Shed your fear to dive in
Dawn your habit of sin
O words you have mistaken
Poor words you have forsaken
Clear as day you have created
The hand of an angry god
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 1:34 AM UTC
Johnathan detested abject poverty,
While bringing riches to the poor,
They'd drank deep of it before,
However by this time they'd grown emaciated,
Rick remarked how their sisters had been claimed by Toblin,
Trapped by crests of blue held in gold,
We'll free them when the time is right,
I promise you.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 8:34 AM UTC
Puddles of old raindrops,
Fog nipped at those wettened edges,
Dew collected on their uniforms,
Fitted just for them,
Many times had she resewn them,
Each time cutting fingers,
Opening old wounds that bled,
It wasn't her territory and yet,
She endured for them.
Johnathan remembered telling her no,
I'll do it myself, she smiled and handed his torn clothes,
To nothing more than ten.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC
Kevin stood by Johnathan's right side,
Inches from an axe covered by lambskin,
Dried and made in their old home,
An orchard, orphanage and music school,
All wrapped up in a bow of optimism,
Protected by a single dagger imbued,
With all there is to live for.
He was shown how malicious melodies,
Corrupting sound deviled by malice,
Words stolen from Sharin's lips,
Could be silenced by the real thing,
Etched onto his runed blade,
Written into its steel frame,
Handwritten by Sharin herself.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 8:32 AM UTC