Love Starts with a Push

Brianna Johnson - Various Poems

Love starts with a push off the playground swings the haze of love misconstrued for sand in the eyes

it changes its name to cooties at the age of six or five infecting little boys and girls like malaria

As years go by it transforms yet again finding its home folded upon notes and tips of tripping tongues in the form of "like" with its twin

it then takes a chemical state filling teenage hearts, clogging pores and minds confused for lust its less lethal form

After this love just wafts by elusive until trapped within words vowed and tightened by a band sometimes loosened

Energy flowing and changing shape never fading only spreading thinner and strongest still

The catalyst the beating of hearts.

1 | P a g e Observant

Sometimes I’m too observant.

I notice the looks of sadness in a strangers' eyes or malice laced between the teeth of crooked smile

to others just a grin.

The new wrinkles on my father's faces

both the ones when he's happy or sad

they're often the same.

I notice my mother's new perfume

,hints of lavender and peach, the change goes unnoticed by father

They share the same face.

I notice the spark of love flash behind a lover's eyes

i glance and see that it is lonely

A man swats flies about his face

one rests upon his knee circling for attention.

The clock ticks in time with strumming fingers and tapping feet

they're all 4 seconds behind

What day is it? Brianna Johnson - Various Poems

I’m too observant, sometimes.

Jumping in Puddles

I was jumping in puddles, as a child might, letting the toes-deep water splash about my face

I did this with no shoes on to feel the earth had remained in place.

The murky waters swirled about my feet making pathways to my nose and eyes.

My life it felt complete.

I was jumping in puddles, after a fresh rain

With no shoes upon my feet just my heart's constant refrain.

I was jumping in these puddles when I fell straight in-

the water at new levels about my hair, nose, and chin.

The waters still were murky and filled my throat and eyes, my mind too was swimming amidst its cloudy sky.

Like night, I soon adapted and it became clear this puddle was much deeper, hope betrayed by fear.

I looked about the landscape, slightly foggy still, as the light above grew dimmer and my lungs began to fill.

I pushed against the pressure from above and at all sides to sprint my way to heaven, to earth's open skies.

I emerged grasping at the air to fill my lungs and take the place of water- still on my limbs it clung.

The murkiness was catching we had somehow become one.

I was walking through puddles in my knee-high boots the water remained silent birthing no splashing fruits

The waters still sat murky filled with silt and sand -

I knew beneath my feet the presence of land.

I walked through these puddles, now cautious and slow, as a child might -

3 | P a g e in a world they too well know.

Inherited a swan

I inherited a swan. I have no purpose for it so it sits- Awaiting some command to spill forth from my lips. What do I tell a swan? (Do I squawk?) If I could speak its foreign tongue would I tell it not to swim upon its pond, to rest its webbing feet on the ground… To drown? Would I tell a swan to drown? For such a morbid thought to even cross my mind is absurd! To tell a swan to drown, just crazy – Is it? I could tell the swan to fly to raise its mighty wings and rise, rise, rise...but wait - Would I bring the swan back down? Would I yell for it to come back to the ground? Remove itself from clouds and the closest drops of Sun? Should I do that? Could I do that? It be bound to come back down wouldn't it? Brianna Johnson - Various Poems

Denial

What is the process of denial? When is that first lie told? The one that slowly takes the form of truth. The lie not hissed by deceitful tongues but whispered from inner workings.

When do we believe ourselves above others? When do egos get so large? So large all other words are lies the wisdom of sages no challenge for the “truth” – concocted in your skull.

Why is the mind so untrusting of others and itself? Such a self-congratulatory thing. Creating vivid machinations just to tear them down Build them up again seeking/reaping constant praise Disgusting. What is the process of denial? When does the mind decide to protect what is ours? Construct a truth to satisfy the need? A truth attacked by those too blind to see – Its genius.

Why do others lie?

5 | P a g e Baptismal Plea

Let me fall into heaven Let me drown in its blue and white - fill my lungs and take my breath. Let me lose my mind and wash it clean Let me experience salvation Let me feel the ascension and descend into its depths Let me enter the darkness and be filled with light Let me plummet into its glory Let me tumble like a child into its embrace- to catch me or let me fall? Let me fall. Let me be blinded by its majesty Let me succumb to grace Let me reach that holy dwelling Let me free of this damnation - made by my own hand. Let me sink within nirvana, swallowing me whole Let me. Let me in Thy kingdom- my soul awaits the blue. Let me dive for absolution Let me! Please. Brianna Johnson - Various Poems

Native Moonlight look upon me, bare, quivering from moonlight my hair stands on end, it is terrified my heart hits a wall, pumping fast, pumping slow waters only sound, the drops falling off my body to the swell constant dripping. i look upon you, barrel, shaking in your hands from what? (i would not understand if you said) i raise my hand in peace, a bullet hits my wall of flesh, to the water i bend blood pumping fast, pumping swift the drops falling off my body to the swell constant dripping adding to the sound. look upon me, bare, shaking under moonlight my skin cold and hair flat, it is dying waters only sound, the drops rushing long my body your boots wade in the swell adding to the sound. i look upon you, barely- pumping slow, pumping stops i never see your eyes.

7 | P a g e