Month: March 2017

Into Something Good

       Into Something Good

She was flirting a lot with me.

Maybe she thought that I didn’t see.

She made her actions more obvious yet.

Wanted to make sure I didn’t forget.

Finally, I walked over to her table.

I started talking with her as I was able.

I was always pretty shy.

It may surprise you for a guy such as I.

I was tall, muscular, and quite handsome.

Or, so I have been told by female ones.

We hit it off fairly smoothly.

I didn’t mind. I wasn’t choosy.

After a few drinks, we decided to leave.

Go where there is live music, you see.

We danced up a storm for several hours.

Time went by fast. The night was ours.

Before long, it was time to say goodnight.

We both agreed our time was out of sight.

We decided to try it again real soon.

On the drive home, I wanted to swoon.

I was a good boy, like I should.

Still, it seems, I am into something good.

————————R.W. Johnson—–(2017)

No Paint For This House

       No Paint For This House

One spring day we painted our home.

It took a few days to get it done.

3 of us were working. I wasn’t alone.

It went fast so was sort of fun.

A pretty blue with dark blue trim.

We were all happy after the last coat.

The next day it was like it had never been.

No new paint from pillar to post.

It looked like we had never painted it.

What the hell happened to the paint?

I was so shocked, I could have a fit.

My wife felt weak, about to faint.

We called a ghost hunter for help.

He came over to take a look.

He knew exactly how we felt.

We showed him pictures that we took.

I looked at the ground where he knelt.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

He was as mystified as we were.

“Can I call a friend of mine? He knows lore.”

“Maybe he will know what did occur.”

We said yes, and soon he arrived.

We showed and told him all we knew.

He turned white and almost cried.

“I think I know what happened to you.”

He started to say, then fell to the ground.

He was dead, right on the spot.

The ambulance soon came around.

A heart attack or stroke were their thoughts.

That didn’t explain enough for us.

We saw the marks on his throat.

They disappeared before we could cuss.

Something made sure he couldn’t gloat.

We never tried to paint the house again.

We sold it, as is, just as fast as we could.

Never told the story. Didn’t know how to begin.

We knew the siding was wormwood.

What this meant, we weren’t sure.

We were glad to be away from there.

Why or how it did occur,

remains a mystery we haven’t wanted to share.

———————————R.W. Johnson—–(2017)

 

 

 

 

The Indians Take Revenge

      The Indians Take Revenge.

They were coming in a cloud of dust.

We were riding in a thundering rush.

Only a mile to the safety of the fort.

I wanted to hear their rifles report.

They would turn back the insane.

Once in range, with rifles aflame.

Those Indians were insane with rage.

They would scalp us if we engaged.

We had come upon their tepee camp.

They saw us and began to chant.

Just squaws and kids. Braves were gone.

A hunting trip. Won’t be gone long.

We raped pillaged and burned it all.

One young buck escaped  the fall.

He took off on horseback fast.

We couldn’t catch his ass.

He made it to the hunting party.

Told them and they got gnarly

He showed them which way we went.

Seeing their village, their clothes they rent.

They chased us double time.

We thought that all was fine.

Till we saw that cloud of dust.

We knew it would be the end of us.

We had to make it to the fort.

Or we would never make a report.

We thought we had a chance.

Then, we saw the cloud in fast advance.

A bunch cut us off from the side.

They were wild and wanted our hide.

We were killed to the last man.

Except for me, but I never ran.

I, the youngest, was tortured and spared.

I was barely alive. No one cared.

They tied me on my horse.

Sent it toward the fort, of course.

I reported all that took place.

Said that the chief got right in my face.

Said tell them this is revenge.

They come again and it will be the end.

————————–R.W. Johnson—–(2017)

 

 

Comic World Comes To Life

Comic World Comes To Life

Billy had read comics all his life.

X-Men, Fantastic Four, Spiderman.

The Hulk, Justice league, all right!!

Dr. Strange, Iron Man, Superman.

 

Marvel and D.C. comics he liked best.

Batman, Wonder Woman, even

Captain America, and all the rest.

They always occupied every evening.

 

He would fantasize about it all.

Such a world, he would love to be in.

One morning he awoke and saw

every comic character from then.

 

From all the comic’s, they were there.

He saw them on TV and out his door.

It seemed that they were everywhere.

Not comics, but real, even what they wore.

 

The villains were all present too.

Things seemed to be in a stir.

People didn’t know what to do.

The ‘hero’s’ stated who they were.

 

Said they were here to stop the villains.

They had the means and the power.

Everyone should start to chillin.

They would make the villains cower.

 

Soon, a terrible battle raged.

Fire was flying all around.

A fierce battle, the hero’s waged.

The villains were soon looser bound.

 

The hero’s won on every front.

The world was safe once again.

Then, they were gone. Was this a stunt?

Everyone hoped to see them again.

 

It was all over before it had begun.

Billy wondered what just happened.

Yet, all others had seen all the fun.

Did a Twilight Zone thing just happen?

 

The answer was never known.

It wasn’t talked about much after.

Billy thought maybe he had shown.

his imagination can produce matter.

————————–R.W. Johnson—–(2017)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Uncle John

                 Uncle John

Uncle John was always sneaking around.

If not that, he was acting like a clown.

He is one I wouldn’t trust far.

He always knows just where you are.

 

There is a method to his madness.

I need to figure out his sadness.

He acts as though he might be depressed.

Then he starts acting as if possessed.

 

Is the man just crazy as a loon?

Or, just a screw loose, whacky buffoon?

Not much difference, you might say.

You wouldn’t give him the time of day.

 

He is my uncle, so I have to claim him.

Every family has a closet kin.

Not talking about a gay here.

Talking about the ‘fruitcake,’ I fear.

 

I have tried talking to him before.

Before I knew, I was out the door.

What makes him tick needs more scrutiny.

For, I know he is no fool, you see.

 

I have a suspicion it is all an act.

It is all an act just to distract.

Whatever his insecurities are?

They have remained a mystery so far.

 

But, I won’t give up on him.

He’s my uncle, that’s not a sin.

He may be weird, but loveable too.

Who else would give me snuff to chew.

————————-R.W. Johnson—–(2017)

 

 

 

Burning Love Found

 

 Burning Love Found

Our love is alive.

So it begins.

Laying our hearts on the table.

Who’s gonna win?

 

Our love is on fire.

Burning within.

Two hearts welded together.

Both of us win.

 

I’ve lived all my life.

Trying to avoid love and strife.

Mostly one night stands.

I thought I was the man.

 

I was safe till I met you.

This feeling is something new.

I was left wanting more.

It was quickly melting my core.

 

I learned that you felt the same.

You have always avoided the pain.

This was a new feeling for you.

Exposing your heart is something new.

 

Our love is alive.

So it begins.

Laying our hearts on the table.

Who’s gonna win.

 

Our love is on fire.

Burning within.

Two hearts welded together.

Both of us win.

——————–R.W. Johnson—–(2017)

 

 

Do Ya?

           Do Ya?

The pure white dove.

It’s a symbol of love.

But, you never cared for that, 

do ya?

You drove that bird away.

The day he came your way.

You didn’t want any crap,

do ya?

The knights in days of old,

were quite chivalrous, I’ve been told.

You don’t know what it’s worth,

do ya?

A man of manners; a man of dignity.

Is a man you’ll rarely see.

Tell me. Do you think it’s a curse?

Do ya?

A monk can often be celibate

Yet, he hasn’t said the hell with it.

It’s his vows. You don’t comprehend,

do ya?.

You have no vows of your own.

Yet, your heart is made of stone.

Or, is it that you just pretend?

Do ya?

He is one who stays to himself.

His books and poetry is his wealth.

He, you avoided. Were you afraid?

Do ya?

Do ya run from every decent man?

Are you afraid of la la land?

Are you afraid of being laid?

Do ya?

Do ya fear what may transpire?

A romance that will set you on fire?

Or is it just an unknown fear?

Do ya?

Many species mate for life.

Does this translate to strife?

Is being a wife what you fear?

Do ya?

There is no answer in running away.

It will be just the same on any day.

Face your fears and  take a vow.

Do ya?

Do ya have the fortitude to step up?

Keep your life from becoming corrupt.

Do you think it is worth it now?

Do ya?

——————-R.W. Johnson—–(2017)