Life Lessons – Word Smith Wisdom

A Lonely Man

He was just a lonely man.
Middle aged, with a tan.
A nice head of hair.
Slightly graying, but there.
Every day, he sat on a park bench.
Fed the squirrels and the finch.
He never bothered anyone.
He wasn’t into having fun.
No family, no one close.
Nothing for which he could boast.

He was just a lonely man.
He listened to jazz, when he can.
He went through life with little care.
Not concerned about what to wear.
Didn’t have a girlfriend or a wench.
He liked sports though. That’s a cinch.
He liked when the dusk would come.
The stars would appear, one by one.
His favorite food was rump roast.
It was the gravy he liked the most.

He was just a lonely man.
He watched some kids kicking a can.
He often thought it would be nice to share.
But, it didn’t happen. No one was there.
He was fairly handy with a wrench.
Concerning politics, he didn’t budge an inch.
To stay In shape, he liked to run.
Not with others. That, he would shun.
One day he took off for the coast.
A small vacation, he would host.

He was just a lonely man.

———————————R.W. Johnson—–(2019)

“Mountain Mania”

Mountain Mania

Way back in the hills of Tennessee
Something was brewing and it wasn’t tea.
Uncle John was at it again.
But, he wasn’t making bathtub gin.
He had his still fired up to the max.
You could buy this booze and not pay tax.
It was some potent mountain brew.
Burn your hairs and moustache too.
Some teenage kids had an idea.
Instead of: “I caught ya. Wouldn’t want to be ya.”
They decided to pull a psilocybin trick.
Some ‘magic mushrooms’, blended thick.
They added the mix to the still.
That should give em all a thrill.
Uncle John didn’t have a clue.
He sold all his jugs of the special brew.
Customers were seeing pixies dancing on the lawn.
Pink elephants flying around till dawn.
Bizarre colors and shooting stars.
Some were seeing men from Mars.
The teenagers were laughing their asses off.
Till someone shot at them from a loft.
Uncle John had to shut down his still.
He decided to make out his will.
Things were quite tense for quite some time.
It was said: “That was some damn good moonshine.”
Uncle John didn’t think he could do it again.
He didn’t know how to even begin.
Finally, the teenagers told him what they did.
Uncle John was mad & almost flipped his lid.
Then, he realized there was money in it.
He hired the teenagers and brewed more shit.
They called it. “Mountain Mania.”
One drink and you are insane. Ya!!
By the time the revenuers caught on.
Uncle John and kids were long gone.

——————————————-R.W. Johnson—–(2019)

The Dark Is Coming

I feel the dark is on its way.
I’m not talking about night & day.
I am talking about something much deeper.
It’s getting darker. Things are bleaker.
Let’s use Star Wars as a guide.
Turn to the ‘dark side’ for a ride.
Turn away to really be free.
But, this may be too late to see.
The common now is a shade of gray.
Which is getting darker by the day.
Game Of Thrones says; “Winter is coming.”
The darkness is much more worth shunning.
Don’t let the darkness fill your heart.
Your world, known now, will be torn apart.
You can’t run to the sea. The sea will be a boiling.
You cannot hide. The viper is uncoiling.
Don’t look to the sky. The sky will be a falling.
Trapped in the dark, your name he’ll be a calling.
This will be hell on earth.
Avoid at all costs, for what it’s worth.

—————————————-R.W. Johnson—–(2019)

Do You Remember Me?

Do you remember me?
You are doubtful, I can see.
It was a very long time ago.
I cherished you, don’t you know?
I was extremely shy back then.
I tried hard to be your friend.
But, mostly, I was just ignored.
I probably made you pretty bored.
I don’t think you knew my name.
Just background noise in your game.
Do you remember me?
The one who could never be free.
Always trapped by a broken heart.
Pining for you from the very start.
My mind imagined everything.
I got only what make believe could bring.
It made my life a living hell.
Even when things were going well.
I didn’t know how to break the ice.
I was afraid what I did wouldn’t be nice.
Do you remember me?
Obviously you don’t. That much I can see.
I can say it makes no difference to me.
But, you see, I have never been free.
All these years hasn’t changed a thing.
I keep hoping what the next day will bring.
You are what I have been hoping for.
I dream of you knocking on my door.
But, I know that will never happen to me.
My whole life has been a fantasy.

——————————–R.W. Johnson—–(2019)

The Queen Bee

I remember a story once told to me.
About a woman who was a queen bee.
Do you have any idea what that is?
Neither did I, till it came to this:
A queen bee ran the roost, you see.
She wouldn’t listen to anyone like me.
To her, I was just a worker bee.
Doing her bidding, as she may see.
I didn’t dare give her any lip.
If I did, I would be in deep s—t.
It was known, she had a deadly stinger.
She would use it with a point of her finger.
Now, you would think a bee would produce honey.
In her case, she was only interested in money.
The more I made, the happier she was.
She would deck herself out in anything but love.
I wanted out of this crazy overbearing hive.
Too escape, I would have to die.
I faked my death just to get away.
I always fear she will find me someday.
I’m sure she cashed in on the life insurance.
Just a way to increase her endurance.
She needs another worker bee for her hive.
Are there any volunteers that are alive?
She will take you under her wing.
Misbehave & she’ll give you a hell of a sting.
Well, that’s the story, as told to me.
The guy that told it was the worker bee.
He only told the story under hypnosis.
When awake, he only says “How goes it?”
Name withheld for patient confidentiality.
Would you want to be known in reality?
Today’s lesson, from what I can see.
Don’t get trapped by a queen bee.

—————————————–R.W. Johnson—–(2019)

Lose ‘High Hopes’, Gain A Sister

When I first saw you, I was thunder struck.
You were driving by in a flat bed truck.
Sun burst blonde hair falling free.
The prettiest sight I could ever see.
You pulled into a restaurant parking lot.
You got out and you were looking hot.
I pulled in and parked there too.
No, I wasn’t really following you.
I was only going in for a bite to eat.
It seemed my heart was following my feet.
When I got in, you were at the counter.
I sat next to you. My heart did flounder.
You said “Good morning.” I almost passed out.
I stammered a reply, trying not to shout.
You had eyes so blue I almost drowned.
How did I live without you around.
We started talking, one to another.
You said you were looking for your brother.
You both were adopted by others when young.
You traced him to here, Licking your lips with your tongue.
You said “Maybe you might know him?”
You told me his name.—- I was frozen.
You had said my name. I fell through the floor.
How can this be? It cut to my core.
“That, that is my name. Are you sure?”
I just sat and stared at her.
She did have my color hair and eyes.
She smiled like me.—- No surprise.
She said “Holy cow!! Can it really be you?”
I sheepishly said “Your mama was no fool.”
In a matter of seconds, there was a change.
My ‘high hopes’ suddenly shared my last name.
Don’t get me wrong. I love her dearly now.
But, I still wish it had worked out somehow.

——————————————————R.W. Johnson—–(2019)

A Mystery In Everything

I have learned a special thing.
There is a mystery in everything.
It doesn’t matter what it may be.
It is something you can’t quite see.
The answer isn’t quite there.
The answer could be anywhere.
Pick a topic or subject now.
Something that censors will allow.
Something you know all about.
I know all this, you want to shout.
Take a second look right now.
Is there something that is not foul.
Something you didn’t notice before.
A mystery perhaps, a hidden door.
A different way to look at things.
Maybe all is not what it seems.
It doesn’t have to be a cover up.
It doesn’t have to really disrupt.
Just a different way to think.
Pushing it down the kitchen sink
will not change what you may think.
It does not mean you need a shrink.
You’re outside the box & in the pink.
Nothing is what it really seems.
There is a mystery in everything.

——————-R.W. Johnson—–(2019)

Picking Up The Pieces

Picking Up The Pieces.

Picking up the pieces of a love shattered heart.
Trying to reassemble it. I don’t know where to start.
The pieces don’t seem to go together right.
Though I try and try with all my might.
It is like trying to walk on very slippery ice.
I could slip and shatter it some more. Not nice.
I could cut corners and reshape a piece to fit.
Maybe I could hammer it in without a hitch?
Alas, It just doesn’t work that way in the end.
All the kings horses and all the kings men.
Couldn’t put together the shattered heart again.
Maybe I can become one of the tin men.
No heart needed, just a little oil now and then.
Oh, is there no way to get over this pain?
Cracking jokes and denying can drive one insane.
I have a feeling this will take a long time.
Going through each day still wishing you were mine.
This is different from physical pain.
It can feel just as bad. There is nothing to gain.
I have been told learn from your mistakes.
But, it felt so right. Why did it feel so great?
I could become a rock or an island.
Like the Paul Simon song. I would die by then.
I have my books and poetry to protect me.
Even so, I am still not able to be free.
Free from the pain, the hurt, the memory.
If I dwell on it I am digging myself in further.
I must go, quiet as a mouse, not even a murmur.
Go into the world and live again.
Who knows, maybe I will make a friend?

——————————————-R.W. Johnson—–(2018)

Writer’s Cramp?

I asked for advice that might come to mind.
They said stick it where the sun don’t shine.
I said what kind of advice is that, you jerks.
They said to take it for what it is worth.
I just wanted help to write this down.
They said do we look like simple clowns?
What in the world does that mean?
They said look at the whole, not in between.
That is about as clear as mud, I said.
Just like the thoughts inside your head.
You insulting sapsuckers are no help at all.
Oh, is our little poet going to bawl?
Ask for a little help and what do I get?
You couldn’t get it right, even on a bet.
That’s it. I’ve had it with this word smith trash.
Good. It’s time you wrote something with a little class.
I’ve had enough! You guys have got to go.
That’s kind of hard when were in your head bro.
Then it hit me like a revelation out of time.
These voices I’ve been hearing are mine.
To be able to write poetry without help,
I have to learn to tune out self.
Do other writers have this problem?
But then, this is not really about them.
A little self analysis should help.
Sassy, you’re just a little whelp.
Wise ass, you’re really the real fool.
You sapsuckers wouldn’t know what to do,
if it wasn’t for me,—- you fools.
There, that should clear my mind.
Now, I can put in some quality time.
Good poetry will soon be on the way.
Those sapsuckers can harass me some other day.

———————————————-R.W. Johnson—–(2018)

Food For Thought

Tragedy is threatening on all sides.
Is there no good news to idolize?
Suicides are way up in recent years.
Is that enough to alert your ears?
There is wars and rumors of wars.
Enough to stress you to your core.
Pandemics, floods, fires, drought.
Is this what it is all about?
National unrest, violence, killing.
Read all about it, if you’re willing.
People’s hearts trembling with fear.
The final hours of earth is near.
Churches are closing left and right.
Low attendance have pastors uptight.
There is no simple answer that I can see.
It seems the answer is up to you and me.
Love seems to be the only way.
The need for it grows greater every day.
Maybe what Jesus said is not so wrong.
I’m sorry realizing it has taken so long.
Love God with all your heart and soul.
Love one another like they were your bro.
People are not likely to do this.
That is why things have gone so amiss.
It is food for thought, but could be more.
Let it sink in to your very core.

—————————–R.W. Johnson—–(2018)