The Poem

You ain’t catching me.

Even if you was the man sitting off up at speciality

Naturally,

we work in the rain

Puddles on your cortex, 

Gombeys on your brain

Hatchets to your scalp

Red stain on your wave

And the arrow will go where the bow has been aimed

So the future will move 

how the past has been trained

Teach us to build and foundation is laid

Teach us to will and thoughts become things

Speak us your words and the lost become kings

Words become wings

So you ain’t catching me 

Even if you was the man sitting off up at speciality 

Naturally,

we work in the rain. 

Puddles on your cortex

Gombeys on your brain.

By  Stephan Johnstone