My pen smells like paint
As these penstrokes
Spell my name
Wet
Behind the ears
Meaning drenched
Behind the tears
As each stroke
Pursues them
Searching for the
Why
Inside the when
A feeling?
A liking?
Perhaps that's all that it was
Maybe
All that it is
Named after a Norse god
As an African kid
Named after Hebrew lore
Yet I was made
In Japan
To simply pick and choose
Is something I cannot stand

Out of the groanings
Within my bowels
Out of all my struggles and strides
Out of within what is within
Where all that is good
Still persists
I will confer on you a name
That has all my wishes
Without my pain
That is not restricted
To my dreams
Or convenience

Anybody can have a good name
That much is true
But those that carry a real name
Are sadly few
Now whether that matters or not
Is well and truly
Up to you