Boy

He thinks he's cool that Johnny boy does.
With his skinny jeans, wafting clouds of cancer
Johnny aint cool, he hasn't been schooled.

My boy Johnny thinks he's cool
Crying to his mama when no one can hear
She buys him his tattered jeans
She looks away while he sucks his cancer sticks

Johnny boy knows the meaning of cool,
Doing whatever you want with a fuck you attitude.
Teetering on the edge, wondering how much fun it could be to topple

We real cool
Johnny boy, like the feeling of truth
Rippling, like a chill

But, Johnny boy, remember this
Cool aint like they show it up on the big screen.
Cool may be rough and tumble but it don't mean shit
Without a heart of gold

Johnny boy aint no Cool Hand Luke
Johnny's just a lazy mama's boy
Hiding behind a rebellious attitude.
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I didn't really follow the assignment for the day. I knew where I wanted to go but I just couldn't get there. I am happy with the results anyway. Though it was frustrating at times to start and studder start the poem over and over again. What ended up happening was that I used all of these misstarts and ended up with this really nice repeating quality in the poem.