Anthony Johnson: A Voice Forged in Truth, Tenderness and Relentless Wit
There are poets who ask you to look at the world differently, and then there are poets like Anthony Johnson—writers who insist you feel it differently. A stand-up comedian and poet from Birkenhead, Johnson has long balanced the sting of reality with the sweetness of humour, often with a playful nod to the absurd. But for the 52 for 26 Poetry Project, he steps into deeper waters, offering a poem that strips away the armour of comedy to reveal something raw, lived, and unmistakably human.
Johnson’s story is one carved on the edges of society. Having experienced homelessness as a young person, he carries a vantage point that few possess yet many urgently need to hear. His poem—quiet, measured, and emotionally candid—returns to that formative time, not to sensationalise it, but to illuminate the fragile architecture of adolescence and the profound cost when society fails its young.
It is a piece shaped as much by memory as by the wisdom that came after. Johnson spent nearly 15 years working within the homelessness sector, and the insight gained there echoes throughout his writing: the understanding that many adults entangled in cycles of addiction, trauma and displacement were once children who never had the chance to heal. His poem becomes both testimony and tribute—an attempt to give voice to those lost in the noise, to offer empathy where judgement too often resides.
For a project celebrating the breadth of Merseyside’s poetic talent, Johnson’s contribution feels vital. It reminds us that humour and heartbreak can sit side by side, and that poetry, at its most powerful, can hold space for both. His work urges us to listen a little harder, look a little closer, and recognise the quiet resilience in stories we too often overlook.
Fears Of A Homeless Teen
Still a teenager, wild and young
Know it all, intelligent, anxiety strung.
Let go prematurely to find his way
In the big wide world to work and play.
Too much to handle for mum and dad,
Too angry, too emotional, too impulsive, too sad.
Scared of touch, scared of love, listening to the wrong peers,
But most of all scared to confront his own fears.
An easier life for him is the danger,
To risk his own life for acceptance from a stranger.
A drunk in a flat, a package or addict,
Door-to-door salesman promoting a habit.
A bag in the morning, a bag in the night,
A night in the cells will make everything right.
Soggy cornflakes, tea and a comforting light,
Released, no fixed abode with no way to win,
Took a punch on the chin on his way to sleep in a bin.
All he wants is a chance, a way to get out—
If he sees it, he’ll take it, of that there’s no doubt.
His friend takes a pipe, another takes a shot,
One takes an OD,
To ironically be forgot.
Watching his circle grow smaller,
He starts to think on his own.
He can’t build a house, but his heart is his home.
He owns no wealth but learns to give what he has:
A smile, a joke, a compliment—
And expects nothing back.
The more that he gives, the more that he receives,
Grateful for the leaves and the breath that he breathes.
Each step is unknown but his mission is clear:
To love and to touch,
And conquer his fears.
