Author: papasmurf

Negativity Will Not Stay

          Negativity Will Not Stay

There’s a light on in your house today.

But, you’re not there. You’ve gone away.

I wanted so for you to stay—– to stay.

You seemed so distant and far away.

I couldn’t give you a reason to stay.

 

The little things, they mean alot.

They give hope where there is not.

But, negative things hang on & rot.

Though one of us may have forgot.

I’m sorry to say—- that I forgot.

 

Communication opens up the door.

It allows us to get to the very core.

Then neither needs to feel sore.

Before it turns negative some more.

Not discussing it is what I abhor.

 

Friends ask me where you’ve gone?

They never ask why it took so long.

They  don’t know what went wrong.

They know I’m singing a different song.

Ever since they know you’ve been gone.

 

Where is it that you needed to go?

Just away from me is all I know.

It could have been a different show.

We needed to take it really slow.

Then, at least, we both would know.

 

I’m cashing in on promises of yours.

Driving by is one of my daily chores.

I’ve found mine. Have you found yours?

If you have you’ll be home, of course.

Then we’ll become a mighty force.

 

The two of us will become as one.

Sharing our love under the sun.

Blending together like coke and rum.

No more negatives will ever come.

We will both know: You are the one.———R. W. Johnson—–(2014)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fed Up!!

                    Fed up!!

You’re tearing me up inside.

Your comments make me want to die.

The tongue is a two edged sword.

You’ve gone too far & cut the cord.

 

You have ripped me up, tore me down.

Made me look just like a clown.

Then you think I should forgive.

You leave me bleeding like a sieve.

 

I’m putting my foot down.

I’m turning over and turning around.

Look at me and see an icy stare.

This romance isn’t going anywhere.

 

————- 0————-

 

I’m gonna harden my heart.

I’m gonna walk out the door.

It’s time for me to get smart.

I can’t take it anymore.

 

Look for me at Heartbreak Hotel.

Down at the end of Lonely Street.

I have been through enough hell.

Time for me to hear a new beat.

 

I’m gonna walk to a different drum.

No more time to sit and cry.

I am through with being so dumb.

The parade’s not passing me by.————–R. W. Johnson—–(2014)

 

Where Are The Vampires?

 

                  Where are the vampires?

The stage coach rushed on through the night.

The coach driver’s face was white with fright.

The passengers bounced around like ping pong balls.

Their heads kept banging into the walls.

The night was cold with thick mist everywhere.

The coach driver couldn’t see but, he could swear.

The black horses were lathered as they rushed on.

Their eyes big and white, wanting to be gone.

Inside the coach, VanHusing sat, as they flee.

Also, a woman, who was Dracula’s bride to be.

VanHusing stole her away to save her from him.

VanHusing was a vampire slayer, Dracula’s next of kin.

He knew one day he would face his cousin.

It would be a battle to destroy this blood sin.

He remembered when Dracula fell under the curse.

He avoided the same fate by escaping first.

He spent years studying how to slay vampires.

He read every book while sitting by a campfire.

He stayed on the move, knowing they were looking for him.

One day, he knew, he would put an end to this sin.

He heard the screech of a bat in the air.

He knew that Dracula would soon be there.

The horses spooked and overturned the coach.

They then ran off dragging their hitching post.

The woman had been knocked out.

VanHusing grabbed his wooden stake with a shout.

He then lay still closely listening for any sound.

It wasn’t long before Dracula came around.

He opened the door of the coach.

Looked at the two passengers  & began to boast.

“Cousin, you can never defeat me.”

“I am immortal, as you will see.”

Dracula leaned over to pick up the girl.

VanHusing drove the stake into his back in a whirl .

Dracula screamed just before he turned to dust.

The stake piercing his heart before coming out his bust.

VanHusing collapsed in relief. He had saved the girl.

He knew others would be after him. He felt ill.

Yet, he would fight them all and win.

He would put an end to this vampire sin.

This is how the story is told to this day.

Did VanHusing have ‘super powers’ to help along the way?

There is still talk that VanHusing is still alive.

He still is killing vampires before they can thrive.

Is this why we never see a vampire today?

I guess the answer is not for us to say.——-R. W. Johnson—–(2014)

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Village

               The village

While traveling northwards

on a back country lane.

It was very strange.

I saw a village appear from nowhere.

All I could do is stop and stare

I climbed a hill overlooking it all.

There was several horse stalls.

Old grey slated roofs

on dilapidated buildings was the proof.

Nothing was moving as the day went by.

It’s like it was dead or all were shy.

Maybe a plague killed all in sight.

I’ll wait till night to look for a light.

No light came on as time went by.

It’s like a ghost town.

I said to myself with a frown.

I felt the ‘wrong’ lurking there.

It made me shiver, I’ll swear.

Should I set foot within this place?

One wrong turn is all it takes.

End up where you can never come back.

I don’t want to live in a shack.

It’s funny, nothing was heard.

Nothing stirred, not even a bird.

There was no smoke from chimney’s high.

No kids playing, ready to say hi.

The village is a place I shouldn’t be.

I left before entering. I needed to flee.

I asked others when I got to a town.

They all smiled and looked around.

“You’re not the first to mention the village.”

“Some went there just to pillage.”

“They were never seen again.”

“Consider yourself lucky, my friend.”

“You see, the village comes and goes”

“It doesn’t exist, or so we’ve been told”

“An urban legend, if you like.”

“All who enter there go out of sight”

“Never to be seen again.”

“This has happened time and again.”

“No one knows who built the town.”

Don’t know why it still comes around.”

“There are rumors that never end.”

‘You’re one of the lucky ones my friend.”

I moved on still not sure what to think.

It will be awhile before I can sleep a wink.—-R. W. Johnson—(2014)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Timothy’s World

                    Timothy’s World

TIMOTHY, OH TIMOTHY.

YOU WERE ALL THE WORLD TO ME.

I GAVE MY HEART AND SOUL TO THEE.

I WAS YOUR’S FOR ETERNITY.

ALL OUR CASTLES IN THE SKY

HAVE NOW ALL CRUMBLED INTO LIES.

REMEMBER WHEN YOU FLEW ME THERE?

WIND WAS WHISTLING THROUGH OUR HAIR.

WE DANCED TOGETHER IN FAIRY DUST.

THEN SAILED OFF, JUST THE TWO OF US.

WE SLID DOWN A MOONBEAM BRIGHT,

ACROSS A CLEAR AND STARY NIGHT.

 

OH TIMOTHY, MY TIMOTHY.

TELL ME WHY WOU’VE GONE FROM ME.

WITHOUT YOU DEAR, I CANNOT FLY.

THERE’S NOTHING LEFT EXCEPT TO CRY.

CRY ALONE IN MISERY.

OH TIMOTHY, MY TIMOTHY.

 

REMEMBER WHEN OUR MINDS WERE ONE?

THE MENTAL GAMES WE’D PLAY FOR FUN.

YOU’D CHASE ME THROUGH MY MEMORIES PAST.

THERE WERE NO WALLS TO BLOCK OUR PATH.

THEN, I’D CHASE YOU AND CATCH YOU DEAR.

YOU WEREN’T AFRAID. THERE WAS NO FEAR.

I CAME TO YOU IN NUDITY.

WE BONDED THEN, JUST YOU AND ME.

OUR MINDS AND BODIES BECAME AS ONE.

WE FLEW INTO A BLINDING SUN.

WE SAILED OFF TO ETERNITY.

FOREVER YOURS I’D ALWAYS BE.

 

OH TIMOTHY, MY TIMOTHY.

TELL ME WHY WOU’VE GONE FROM ME?

WITHOUT YOU DEAR, I CANNOT FLY.

THERE’S NOTHING LEFT EXCEPT TO CRY.

CRY ALONE IN MISERY.

OH TIMOTHY—- MY TIMOTHY.——-R. W. JOHNSON——-(1998)

 

 

The Latter Rain

The Latter Rain

Last name Aladon; first name Freatis.

I am here to talk because they hate us.

All the killing and violence in the streets.

Spreading their evil as far as they can reach.

Our ancestry may be different than theirs.

The color of their skin may not be as fair.

Is that a reason to kill and maim?

The whole idea sounds pretty lame.

It doesn’t make them better than us.

Nothing calms the blood rush lust.

Treat your neighbor as you would one another.

Were all human .Therefore, we are brothers.

The hate and the killing has to stop.

The evil cast off and left to rot.

The Bible points to a better way.

They hate The Word & what it has to say.

A ‘Bible thumper’ is hated most of all.

If they catch one, they have a ball.

But, the power of God can overcome.

Martyrs, or not, God is the one.

A time is coming when The Latter Rain

will fall abundantly and change the game.

God’s workers will go into their den.

Preach the word of God and come out again.

Many will be converted in a day.

Evil will be gone. Love will be here to stay.

It sounds impossible for such a change.

Like healing the sick or curing the lame.

All things are possible with God.

He speaks softly and carries a big rod.

Evil cannot stand in the presence of God.

Gang members will no longer be a mob.

They will cover the slums spreading God’s word.

It will be a message that’s never been heard.

Hardened criminals telling their story.

How they now love God and all his glory.

This day is coming. It won’t be long.

Then we will all sing a new song—————R. W. Johnson—–(2011)

 

The Old Mantel Clock

        The Old Mantel Clock

It was near the midnight hour

as I settled down in my easy chair.

Relaxing, after I had taken my shower.

Thinking, as I ran a brush through my hair.

Why did such a thing happen?

Especially to someone so young?

I should have hit the sack then.

But, I knew sleep would not come.

I tried to focus on other thoughts.

Still, my thoughts drifted back to her.

I knew, inside,  I was still distraught.

Since my daughter’s death had occurred.

I tried to relax and breathe deeply.

Let my mind go totally blank.

The quiet in the house was creepy.

I heard what I first thought was a clank.

 

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock—-Never stops.

 

The old clock on the mantel

Passed down to me by relatives past.

Sitting there between two candles.

It made a sound like clanking brass.

There was no other sound around.

It was quiet as the bewitching hour.

I got up and started pacing around.

A taste in my mouth that was kind of sour.

Again, I started thinking of my lost daughter.

The thought bringing me to tears of grief.

No, I must not dwell, as I drank some water.

I plopped down again back into my seat.

As I sat there I heard that sound.

The infernal ticking of the old clock.

It was the only sound there was around.

Was it louder now? —Or, was it not?

 

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock,—-Never stops.

 

Why is that ticking bothering me so?

I never had noticed it before.

Was it a message for my soul?

That thought shook me to my core.

It sounds almost like it is saying:

Your next, your next….. Nooo!!

What kind of tricks was my mind playing?

Such horrible thoughts had to go.

I blame myself for my girls death.

Even though she died from a disease.

A curse passed down to my regret.

For some sin my mind conceived?

“It’s not fair” I cried out to God.

“To take the life of one so young.

A daughter should not die, God

before her father. Not when young.”

 

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock—-Never stops.

 

I wrestled with these thoughts of mine.

No satisfaction or relief obtained.

As I let my thoughts slowly unwind

the same single thought remained.

Why? —Why did she have to die?

This thought was ripping me apart.

‘These things happen’;  doesn’t answer why?

‘All happens for a reason’ was a farce.

‘Turn to faith in God for your condolence.’

I grabbed a Bible and opened it up.

I saw God is with you in all moments.

“Where were you when I drank this cup?”

Silence.— Then I heard the ticking.

The ticking of the mantel clock.

Over and over, always ticking

Ripping apart all that I thought.

 

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock—-Never stops.

 

What is this? This constant ticking.

Driving all thoughts from my mind.

All my thoughts were not sticking

due to this ticking . Ticking in my mind.

I jump up and pace around.

What evil trick is being played?

This ticking clock, the only sound.

Is Satan driving me to the grave?

Is it the loss of my loved one

causing me to lose my grip?

Is this clock cursed? —What fun.

A clock passed down is making me sick.

Maybe the clock has a message

that goes on and never stops.

A message just for this age.

She is gone.— Accept your loss.

 

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock–Never stops

——————————–R. W. Johnson—– (2011)

.

 

 

 

Captive

 

                            Captive

The first time to tell my story is a fright.

I’m the special speaker at A. A. tonight.

My sponsor says  it will be alright.

As I start my story I’m a little uptight.

For me it started in my teenage years.

No, not drinking or drugs. Not even beer.

I was a straight girl. Nothing less.

I was a virgin, as you might guess.

It happened as I was walking home.

I was grabbed from behind. I was alone.

I was thrown into the back of a van.

I was given chloroform by the man.

When I awoke I was locked in a room.

Mattress on the floor there in the gloom.

Bars on the window. The door was locked.

A bucket in the corner to use as a pot.

After awhile, the man came into the room.

“You’re my sex slave” said the goon.

I remember my thoughts as he stripped me bare.

What will I tell my teddy bear??

That first time hurt so bad I prayed he would stop.

Finally he got up. I was glued to the spot.

No sooner had he left than another came in.

Then the whole thing started again.

I won’t go into detail what all they did to me.

Let your imagine run wild, then you might see.

After almost a month the police broke in.

They took me from that house of sin.

To me, it seemed like a year or more.

I was frozen to my very core.

I have been asked how I survived.

It was a miracle I was even alive.

All I remember to fill the void.

I became an organic robitoid.

I went through the motions  they said to do.

Inside I thought— I am dead to you.

I had no emotional response.

A machine, moving only to their taunts.

Months of therapy didn’t help my gloom.

I lived with my parents, mostly in my room.

I rarely came out. I hated crowds.

I ate in my room. Often I cried out loud.

My dad gave me some wine once with dinner.

He said “Deep inside I know you’re a winner.”

I felt a little better after a drink or two.

Then I knew exactly what I’d do.

There was a liquor store near the house.

I would sneak out quiet as a mouse.

Cover myself up good with clothes.

All you could see was just my nose.

I was soon buying wine by the case.

Hiding the empties all over the place.

After 2-3 bottles of wine a day,

things seemed to be, almost, o.k.

Then, one day, while watching TV

It was like they were talking about me.

It was a program about alcohol abuse.

I was killing myself just to feel loose.

I said no,— I could stop if I wanted to.

So I told myself no to the booze.

Soon, I was shaking and sick as hell.

I told my folks I didn’t feel well.

I confessed all my drinking to them.

Asked them to take me to detox then.

I detoxed and started in a program.

Got a sponsor and said I’d show them.

I stayed sober and worked the steps.

Now, I’m telling all, how my life was a mess.

How I was captive of my own devices.

But, now, I really know what nice is.

I’d been captive to a sick sexual nut.

It was hard, but, I got out of that rut.

To sum it up as to what it means to me.

Thank God. Now I am finally free!!

 

A quiet hush fell over the place.

There was hardly a dry eye in the place.

As I stepped down everyone did clap

People were hugging me and patting my back.

I felt welcome. I felt loved.

I give all thanks to God above————–R. W. Johnson——(2011)

 

 

 

 

An unexplained death

      An unexplained death

He came in on a stormy night.

He really looked quite a fright.

Clothes soaked,. hair all a mess.

He was scary, as you might guess.

Straight to the fireplace, he did go.

Shaking off water just for show.

He said “Don’t go out there. Death awaits.”

Suddenly, it got real quiet in the place.

I was about to take a drink of beer.

I set it down with a hint of fear.

“I saw the Grim Reaper with sickle bright.”

“He appeared out of the dead of night.”

“He didn’t seem to be looking at me.”

“But, I didn’t wait around to see.”

“I took off running like a bat out of hell.”

“He started moving really fast, as well.”

‘That’s when I saw your light & came in here.”

‘He is out there waiting , I fear.”

“What kind of guff is that?”

“I ought to smack you right where you’re at.”

“Coming in scaring everyone here.”

“This is a respectable saloon, ya hear.”

The bartender was a little miffed.

He wanted to throw out the stiff.

Then, rap, rap, rap, rap on the door.

“That’s him!!” yelled the wet stranger.

“Run, you’re all in danger!!”

“Shut your mouth” the bartender said.

He went to the door shaking his head.

He looked out & no one was there.

“Is this a joke’ he said with a stare.

“Have you got a buddy out there?”

“No”, stammered the guy, “I’m telling the truth.”

“I think you’re just being uncouth.”

Then, from outside came a blood curdling scream.

“Someone’s going to die, or so it would seem”

The bartender grabbed his shotgun under the bar.

“Everybody stay just where you are!!”

He pointed the shotgun by its bore.

Then, there was scratching at the door.

The bartender fired blowing a hole in the door.

They didn’t hear the sound anymore.

They looked outside. “It’s Billy McGuire!!”

“You killed him dead. The stranger wasn’t a liar.”

“Where did the stranger go?” asked someone.

“We have to find him. This isn’t fun.”

They searched around but, he wasn’t there.

He just disappeared. He wasn’t anywhere.

They listened. Maybe to hear a word.

A fading laugh was all that they heard.

The storm raged on outside.

But, within, all lost their pride.

All were shaking in their boots.

They felt fear right down to their roots.

What happened that night was never fully explained.

People never said much for fear of going insane.

It was ruled an accidental death.

No one said it was the Grim Reaper that they’d met.

——————————————————R. W. Johnson—–(2014)

 

 

 

John lays down roots

 

John Bailey finally had a home.

There was no way he would roam.

He had put his roots down deep.

He could finally rest his feet.

 

The trip here was not an easy one.

It was heated and it wasn’t fun.

“You’re not moving across the street”

“Quit trying to be so darn discreet.”

 

His mother was highly upset.

His dad too, lost all respect.

“How will we ever see you again?”

“You might as well be in the pen.”

 

“Locked up with the key thrown away.”

“We’ll say we knew you back in the day.”

“I will only be across the street!!”

“I can see you by using my feet.”

 

“Sure, you’re gonna do that all right.”

“You wouldn’t come if there was a fight.”

“A robbery could be going on.”

“Maybe an injury, or just a con.”

 

“Where will you be to help?”

“Across the street, you little whelp.”

“We knew you would come to no good.”

“Being much stricter with you, we should.”

 

“Teach you to respect your elders.”

“Not be running off. You could live in the cellar”

“I guess were not good enough for you.”

“All you ever did was fuss and stew.”

——————-0——————–

Sometime later his mother fell.

His father couldn’t get her up very well.

His sister said “Call John for help.”

“What!! Call that little whelp!!.”

 

His sister came over and got John.

Johnran to help his mom.

They were suprised to see him there.

Then they saw that he did care.

 

Yes, John has laid down roots..

He daily puts on his boots.

Then he walks across the street.

Now things are really sweet.—————R. W. Johnson—–(2014)