June 2016 – Word Smith Wisdom

Stuck Like Glue

Things are not right. What to do?
All I want is to be with you.
When your time is up, I’ll be there.
I will follow you anywhere.
I will follow you into the light.
Look and I will be on your right.
If it gets dark and I can’t see you.
Just hold on and we will get through.
On the other side we will be together.
Be it super hot or perfect weather.
What I am trying to say is this.
Come hell or high water, you’re my miss.
I intend to stick like glue.
Despite what all the world will do.
Call me old fashioned or in a rut.
It is how I am. I feel it in my gut.
I was meant to be with you.
Come thick or thin, we’ll see it through.
What more can I say or do.
My actions will say the rest for you.

————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

The Mystery Of The ‘Glob’

There is a mystery around every turn.
Someone threw a ‘glob’ into the churn.
People who used the butter didn’t get sick.
They didn’t thrash around due to a fit.
They developed some amazing powers.
They could predict rain, or just a shower.
They could see a plane fly overhead.
Tell you who was onboard & who they wed.
Given any object at all, they knew its history.
Right back to the day it was made. No mystery.
They could track better than the best blood hound.
They could even ‘root out’ an evil clown.
Such powers haven’t been known before.
Where did they come from? What’s at its core?
The word is, an alien handled the ‘glob.’
No, it wasn’t Uncle Bob.

He is an alien too.
But, not the kind we were exposed to.
What was the object with such a gift?
Did he make other aliens miffed?
Such powers in our hands could be a hazard.
Election day would go bad for the bastards.
Nothing would get past those with ‘the power.’
Election day would be the ‘bewitching hour.’
But, never fear—-“Power Man” is here.
Just kick back and have a beer.
“Power Man” will weed out the truth.
No need to go to the voting booth.
He will set you straight on all, but your mate.
He has to draw the line somewhere. It’s fate..
It is now a better world. Thanks to the ‘glob.’
With just a little help from Uncle Bob.

————————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Summer Fun

Well, it’s a down town day.
A day when I feel more than o.k.
A day for whistling as I walk along.
Great days like this are too soon gone.

I have feel alive and energized.
For this, I am more than obliged.
Everything is turning up roses.
I can even tell where my toe is.

I see all the good around.
Flower smell is good, I’ve found.
Dogs, cats, and other pets.
Are lots of fun. They love us, I guess.

People picknicing in the park.
They stay there till nearly dark.
Kids are playing, having fun.
There is plenty of food for everyone.

Close to home, kids are wet.
The sprinkler is on and set.
Slippery slides are a blast.
Whoever was first could be last.

Things we can’t do in winter.
No one needs a hint here.
Summer fun is all around.
Summer fun is where I’m bound.

So, my summer advice for you.
Is get out there & have fun too.
Don’t give me a dirty glare.
Remember, love is in the air.

—————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

The Glory Days

I was thinking about the good old days.
The glory days, when I grew up & played.
Well, the rocks may melt & the fields burn.
Way before those good old days return.

I may move on to a better place.
Have glory shining from my face.
Have the best of everything.
No need to long for anything.

Yet, I pray, when that day comes.
When everything will lead to fun.
I hope it will be sweeter in every way.
Than it was in those glory days.

————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

A Storybook Romance

I met her at the market place in old Hong Kong.
The only Americans, we instantly got along.
I wondered what she was doing there?
She said it was business only. I swear.
I said too bad. It was a good place for fun.
Drink a little Saki and go for a run.
A run on the beach, or just see the sights.
She said I had a real way to entice.
She was free the next day, so off we went.
Sightseeing, not concerned about what we spent.
We ran on the beach. Swam a little too.
There were tons of things to do.
After a day, or more, of this, she left for home.
I said I would call her on the phone.
She was from the California coast, near S.F.
An area I loved the most. Sorry I left.
A week later I gave her a call.
We went to wine country and had a ball.
The Napa Valley was very beautiful.
There was lots to drink & eat till full.
I told her that this is where I actually lived.
She said: “Really!”, as she used her bib.
“We are almost neighbors, you know.”
“Yet, we met in Hong Kong. What a show.”
Time passed by, like it always does.
Before long, her and I became us.
Traveling was a big part of our time.
I didn’t mind, since she was mine.
You know how these stories go.
Before long, another joined us for the show.
We named him Peter. Pete for short.
He won an award for his book report.
We asked him what book he had read.
He said none. It was based on our lives instead.

————————————R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Finite Man

Lucinda was mine
Till the time
That I found her
Holding Finn.
Loving him.
Then you came along.
Loved me strong.
That’s what I thought.
Then, me and you,
That died too.
Don’t know that I will
But until
I can find me
A little girl who will stay,
And not play
Games behind me.
I will be what I am.
A finite man.
A finite man.
This poem can
Make you a better man.
Sounds like “Solitary Man.”
Do it, if you can.
No need for women to trample man.
When you can be a finite man.
Take things in hand.
Come on boy.
I know you can.

——————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Adrift, And All Alone

Why did we go our different ways?
You said you missed me, I heard you say.
Yet, you didn’t come to get me.
I guess you wanted to be free.
Life isn’t right when you’re not around.
You keep me firmly anchored to the ground.
You’re someone I can cling to.
When I need guidance to make it through.
I hope you didn’t think I was needy.
Even though I wanted you to feed me.
I get carried away with flighty ideas.
You calm me, especially when people see us.
You are a beacon in a stormy sea.
I focus on you and I am free.
I am not adrift on any old current.
I feel grounded, even if you weren’t.
Someday, our paths may cross again.
I will always consider you a friend.
But, I feel we could be so much more.
If you only won’t walk out the door.

——————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Not Quite Grown Up

I met you and I couldn’t believe it.
But, I was glad to just receive it.
The kind of fun I have with you.
It seems no one else will do.

Just two kids, having a ball.
Doing things we did when small.
Now that we are all grown up.
You might think we’re in a rut.
Stuck in our adult acting ways.
Always the same, day after day.
But, we’re just two kids, having a ball.
Doing the things we did when small.

They would tell me: “Grow up.”
Act your age. Don’t be a butt.
Then I met you and off we went.
Peter Pan syndrome is heaven sent.

We would play into one another.
Pass a pole and say “Bread & butter.”
Having more fun than a barrel of monkeys.
Having a blast. Never feeling funky.

Just two kids, having a ball.
Doing things we did when small.
Now that we are all grown up.
You might think we we’re in a rut.
Stuck in our adult acting ways.
Always the same, day after day.
But, we’re just two kids, having a ball.
Doing the things we did when small.

We act mature when we need to.
But,—– between me and you.
It’s more fun to act like a kid.
It causes other adults to flip their lid.

—————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

A Mysterious ‘Thing’

A friend came by the other day.
He had something important to say.
Said he had to show me what it was.
He couldn’t tell me,— just because.
I said: “o.k. Let’s go.” I was curious.
We headed out. This was mysterious.
Deep in the woods he stopped me.
“Take a look. What do you see?”
“I see trees, sky, grass, and bushes.”
“No, just to the left of where your foot is.”
I looked. It was a square of shiny bluish metal.
It looked like the square lid to a kettle.
“What is it?”, I asked as I bent down.
“I don’t know.”, he said with a frown.
I touched it, expecting it to be cool.
“It is the same temp as me or you.”
“That’s not all. Pick it up and see.”
I tried, but it was heavy as can be.
“Is it stuck in the ground?”
“I don’t think so.” As he looked around.
He handed me an entrenching tool.
“Dig it up. I will help you.”
We dug the dirt out from all around it.
Then, we dug out the dirt under it.
It just sat there. Floating in the air.
We tried to move it, to our despair
It wouldn’t move. It was locked in place.
All around it was just open space.
We looked at it real close on all sides.
I used the shovel and really pried.
It wouldn’t move. It wouldn’t scratch.
About 6 inches. All sides matched.
We tried heat to no effect.
We covered it, but it wouldn’t move yet.
We sprayed it with paint. it dripped off.
The heat didn’t make it turn soft.
We dug much deeper, but nothing was there.
We used a metal dector everywhere.
No metal registered. Nothing to be found.
There was no way to get it off the ground.
Neither heat or cold changed the temp.
It was not magnetic or radioactive.
It was totally inert. In no way active.
Impervious to drills, acid, or major blows.
It never moved or got a dent or a hole.
The next day we returned with help.
Our college science professor. He knelt.
He looked in the hole. “Is this some joke?”
There was nothing in the hole but smoke.
The ‘thing’ was gone. To where, we don’t know?
The professor was pissed & said he had to go.
We never saw ‘it’ again or found another.
But, I swear it’s true. I’m not lying, brother.

————————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

A ‘Wild’ Reaction

Your flying high in a cloudless sky.
You can see the scenery fly by.
You’re not in a plane or any such thing.
Yet, you’re flying, like you had wings.
You’re like a bird. How can this be?
You’re flying high, feeling free.
There is no fear in what you’re doing.
You’re having lots of fun. No fooling.
Is it imagination, or a vivid dream?
Maybe it is much more than it seems.
Have you thought about how to land?
You need to survive,—- if you can.
The sweat starts popping out of your head.
Then, you make a perfect landing, in your bed.
So,—- I guess it was all a dream?
Yet, it was much more than it seemed.
You can’t remember going to bed.
The whole thing is driving you out of your head.
Did you take a hallucinogenic drug?
Did you lick a Colorado river toad? Uggh.
Maybe ‘magic mushrooms’ did the trick?
Or maybe some LSD on a stick?
No, you never touch stuff like that.
The thought would make you puke in your hat.
Maybe it was that Superman movie you saw?
Or possibly that pizza you ate at the in laws?
None of this makes any sense.
Maybe it was a way to circumvent?
Avoid a nasty situation by just ‘flying off’?
Hard to be bothered when you are aloft.
You feel like Snoopy in his WW I adventures.
You should sell this. Put it in dispensers.
But, you don’t even know what it is?
Maybe, you were just reacting to her kiss?
She sends you into orbit, you know.
One kiss from her and here comes the show.

————————————R. W. Johnson—–(2016)