Categories
POEMS

Johnny

He started out with his head down,
an almost-innocent little creature.
Soft rim,
Soft core.
He was capable of more,
You could see it in his veins.
He thought starting out small made him redundant,
but what he didn't realise...
Was that if he chose to,
He could become a force bigger than reality itself;
Something bigger than you and me.
Something only your mother could calm down.
For once he freed himself from the weight of fear and doubt,
he was free to grow into the phenomenon he was meant to be,
beautiful, masculine, characteristic. Avant-garde. 
A profile almost Greek-like,
but fatter.
(And longer).
A totem poll of individuality,
Vomiting creation and progression itself.
A COCK SO BIG IT'S SCARY.

Now when at large, he silently roars
with blood rushing through veins.
Muscles twitching. Bulging. 
A structured base as firm as timber.
A head as thicc as the Bible.
With this strength and knowledge he responds to the call of duty,
Knowing in his pulse that
He, is the true hero of his story.
A hero who stands to face every morning
Not because he's a shower but
because he's a grower.