Carl Martin Johnson
Poet, Author, Slayer of Dragons
© Carl Martin Johnson, All rights reserved
SHE WALKS ON THE WILD SIDE
By Carl Martin Johnson
There’s a light in her window now.
That must mean she’s in.
I must find out how
I can see her once again.
I knew I could not hold her.
She wanted more than I could buy.
I just had two arms to enfold her,
And a love that wouldn’t die.
She needed jewels and gold.
She had beauty she could trade.
Eyes like ice, so cold.
But warm lips that could persuade.
She went away and had her pick
Of the wealthy and the famed,
A dream-like movie, passing quick,
That could not be reclaimed.
The toll that fast life takes is heavy.
When she left I tried to warn her.
Now she pays that lifestyle’s levy
By selling her beauty on the corner.
I have loved her every minute,
Waiting for her to know
Her life needs me in it.
I’m the one man who’ll never go.
When she comes out I’ll ask again,
As I do every year.
If her hand I still can’t win,
Next year I’ll be right here.
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LIFE SLIPS BY ME
By Carl Martin Johnson
Softly, Life slips by,
Like water through my fingers.
I can’t hold it, though I try.
It rushes past . It never lingers.
I cup my hands to drink,
But I can never hold.
It is gone before I blink.
Wild and uncontrolled.
Come, Life, elusive being.
Be still just for a minute.
Embrace me..Stop your fleeing.
You are my life and I want in it.
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WARRIOR OF THE YPG
By Carl Martin Johnson
I stand to face the evil men
Who would do my people harm.
I will fight and fight again,
With God’s strength in my arm.
This ancient land I hold in trust
For those not yet alive.
I will gladly die, if die I must,
So that my tribe may thrive.
So join with me, my friend.
We will not be defeated.
We will fight until war’s end
And our mission is completed.
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TASTING LIFE
By Carl Martin Johnson
He awoke and tasted life,
Like morning dew on his lips.
As with a newly married wife,
He would first take gentle sips.
Around him lay dead and dying,
Yet Fate let him survive.
Departing souls were flying,
But he was still alive.
He breathed the foul air in,
As if it were perfume.
He was alive again.
He had not met his doom.
The World Soul flowed into him.
Its grandeur filled his heart.
All Beings now they knew him.
Of all existence he was a part.
And the life he was now tasting
He would surely savor.
Not a morsel would go wasting.
This time he would enjoy each flavor.
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WAR WIND
By Carl Martin Johnson
An icy wind blows through my soul.
I know the fight is coming.
It is out of our control.
I hear the war drums drumming.
We will fight and die.
We will wound and kill.
While wives and mothers cry.
While soldiers’ graveyards fill.
All the horror we well know.
All the suffering and death.
Piles of corpses high will grow,
Filling our nostrils with Satan’s breath.
I will make war because I must,
Lest this world have evil thrive.
I do it with no lust,
But that my people may survive.
I pray war wind calms fast,
That blood ceases soon to flow.
God, let this war be the last.
Let peace be what we know.
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MOMMY’S STAR
By Carl Martin Johnson
See that star up there, my son?
The one that’s blinking bright?
That star is the very one
Where your mother sleeps tonight.
She left you and me down here below
Because God needed her up there.
She did not truly want to go,
And it may not seem fair.
But she still loves you and me.
Right now she’s looking down.
Smile back up and you will see.
Don’t let her catch you frown.
Sometimes on a quiet night,
You will hear her singing.
Then if you cup your hands just right,
You might catch the light she’s flinging.
Soon we’ll be in her arms again.
We’ll ride up on a shooting star.
She’ll open the gate and let us in.
Heaven isn’t really far.
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THE PLACE WHERE SOULS ARE BORN
By Carl Martin Johnson
I’ve seen the place where souls are born,
Deep within God’s heart,
Before they have bodies to adorn,
While still a thing apart.
Creatures of beauty with no form,
Only brilliant light.
And a feeling, kind and warm.
Pure spiritual delight.
Pieces of God’s own Being,
To infuse new humankind.
More Divine Love freeing.
More spreading of God’s Mind.
One day these spirits will return,
Individuals, but united.
Their sparks will with the Great Fire burn,
So the entire universe is lighted.
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GOOD SINS
By Carl Martin Johnson
My sins with you are good sins.
They are anointed with our love.
They are understood sins,
By all the gods above.
Our touches are hot fire.
They set our bodies burning.
Fueled by our desire.
Fanned by winds of yearning.
The passion in our caresses
Creates our private paradise,
Where all nature blesses
What this world thinks is vice.
As our warm lips travel
Hungrily over our skin,
Our inhibitions will unravel,
And we’ll make virtue of our sin.
If we be damned, so be it.
We are slaves of righteous lust.
The god Eros shall decree it.
All love’s sins are just.
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THE OLD BEAUTY
By Carl Martin Johnson
A curl of gray fell over her eye.
A stiff finger pulled it back.
She breathed to herself a quiet sigh.
Gone was its lustrous black
She passed a young man on the street.
He smiled as she walked by.
Her eyes twinkled at the gesture sweet.
It made her old heart fly.
It sparked a memory in her mind.
A man who had owned her heart.
A man that she had left behind.
An act that had torn her apart.
It had taken years for the wound to heal.
Oceans of tears she’d cried.
She thought she would never again love feel.
She had not even tried.
Then a miracle had found her.
A man like none before him.
When he put his arms around her.
She could not help but adore him.
He loved her for her beauty,
Especially that inside.
Loving him was pleasure, not duty.
She was his fervently willing bride.
When she saw a young man smile,
She would call his face to mind,
Remembering that,for a while,
Life had, at last, been kind.
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A PRAYER FOR THE DEAD AND THE DYING
By Carl Martin Johnson
Now I lay me down to sleep,
Another day marked on my heart.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
In God’s plan I played my part.
If I should die before I wake,
Leave this life for another start,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
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THE DIVINE CONVERSATION
By Carl Martin Johnson
All the wonders of the universe
Have been put at Man’s disposal.
As if, for better or worse,
Nature waits for our proposal.
The star-filled sky above our head,
The painted sunset clouds,
The flowered fields of blue and red,
Is Nature shouting loud.
The cosmos is awaiting our reply.
I can sometimes hear it listening.
I have no answer, though I try,
When I see its grandeur glistening.
Nature is the Breath of God,
Exhaled to give us being.
All her splendors are God’s nod
Telling us it is His work we are seeing.
Man stands out among all that glory.
For us God made the rest.
Mankind alone writes his own story.
Only we must pass a test.
When, at last, we succeed,
We, the human nation,
God and Man will talk, as we both need.
In the Divine Conversation.
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A SINNER’S LAMENT (Birthday Card to Jesus)
By Carl Martin Johnson
I’m just a simple warrior,
Who writes an occasional rhyme.
I don’t think about God a lot.
Seems I never have the time.
I’m a pretty big sinner, too.
I’m always in or around it.
If there’s a sin I haven’t done,
It’s because I’ve not yet found it.
But, I better try to stay afloat
On the bad deeds in which I swim,
Because, if God can become Man for me,
I should try to be a little like Him.
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IF I DON’T FIGHT
By Carl Martin Johnson
If I don’t fight, who will?
Shall I just stand by?
Shall I let the evil ones kill
Because I’m afraid to die?
Shall I leave the danger to others,
Watching them bleed while I hide?
Crouch behind warrior brothers,
Lurk in the shadows of those who’ve died?
Was I born coward or man?
Will I make those who love me proud?
I must do what I can,
Or be buried in a coward’s shroud.
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TO THE WOMAN I FORGOT TO TELL “I LOVE YOU”
By Carl Martin Johnson
I forgot to say “I love you.”
I let chances pass me by
While I stared at stars above you.
I just forgot to try.
Maybe you saw it in my eyes,
In an inadvertent glance.
Or in one of my soft sighs
While in your beauty’s trance.
I now forget your name,
Though I still feel your warm embraces.
Yes, I should have more shame,
But you’re lost in a sea of faces.
I should have said it, word by word,
Spoken clearly my affection.
That’s what you would like to have heard.
Me, too…upon reflection.
I’ll speak now, since I did not then.
Yet, I know you cannot hear.
If I could hold you close again,
I’d say “I love you, dear.”
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I LEFT A LETTER FOR YOU
By Carl Martin Johnson
By the time you read this letter,
I will be far away.
I could have done this better,
But you might have made me stay.
I might be back someday,
If the fates are kind.
If I don’t lose my way.
If I don’t lose my mind.
I tried hard as I could,
Smiling to hide my frown,
To settle down for good,
Not to let you down.
It breaks my heart to leave,
Yet I’ll die if I remain.
And while now you may grieve,
I must go…or go insane.
I’ll not ask you to wait.
I probably won’t return.
If I did, it would be too late.
This is a bridge that I must burn.
So our memories we’ll keep.
All the loving times we shared..
And at night before we sleep,
They’ll be proof that we once cared.
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HUSH, MY SON
By Carl Martin Johnson
Hush, hush now my son.
Let the world hear silent singing.
Countless hearts even now you’ve won
With the message you are bringing.
There is no need to shout
When truth has so much power.
Your vision will conquer doubt.
It is growing by the hour.
So, whisper into the wind.
Let it blow and spread your word.
It is the Beginning, not the End.
And it shall be heard.
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THE TEAR
By Carl Martin Johnson
The tear welled slowly in the eye,
Not ready yet to fall.
Knowing not the reason why
It was there at all.
For what purpose was it grown?
A tear’s functions are quite varied.
Shortly, though, it would be known
The emotion that it carried.
The soul from which the tear had sprung,
Had formed it for a reason.
It was a song that would be sung
For some sad or joyous season.
But for whatever it was designed,
It would serve full well.
The feeling it held close enshrined
Shared with all as it fell.
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THE BIG CAT’S TRACK
By Carl Martin Johnson
The track was only minutes old.
The animal was large.
I felt my heart grow icy cold.
I braced for a deadly charge.
Was the cat hungry, or had he fed?
Was it me the panther was stalking?
If I stood still, would I be dead?
Should I run or just keep walking?
In my mind I saw yellow eyes,
Narrowing to attack.
Waiting to take me by surprise.
Yet, I did not dare look back.
I’m weaving inside these boulders,
Nearly frozen stiff with fright,
Expecting fangs to tear my shoulders,
Waiting for the lion’s bite.
I must keep moving ahead,
Though paralyzed by fear.
Pushing forward through my dread
That the Big Cat is near.
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A GLANCE AT THE MIRROR
By Carl Martin Johnson
I glanced at the mirror as I passed by,
And saw a stranger there.
I stopped to look him in the eye.
I’d seen him before somewhere.
But there seemed to be a change.
His face was hard and cold.
That struck me as very strange.
It had once been cheerful and bold.
The corners of his mouth turned down,
Furrowed wrinkles in his brow.
Where was once a smile, grew now a frown.
Where is that happy man now?
I hope one day he will return.
His once glad heart break through.
The longer I look, the more I yearn
For the me that I once knew.
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THE SPARKLE IN THE BLIND MAN’S EYES
By Carl Martin Johnson
To those who passed him on the curb,
He seemed in a world his own.
Most were careful not to disturb,
To leave the poor man alone.
The dark glasses that he wore
Were not for protection from the sun,
But so that people would ignore.
So his blindness would offend no one.
Most times he had a smile.
Sometimes it grew to laughter.
Then he’d be quiet for a while,
Maybe sleep a little after.
As a boy, I often would pass by.
I would stand a moment and wonder
Why he’d laugh and never cry,
Given the curse that he lived under.
Finally my curiosity overcame me.
I pleaded “Tell me what you’re seeing!”
Although I had let my rude words shame me,
The blind one seemed to be agreeing.
As he raised his glasses slow.
I was struck dumb in surprise.
I saw Paradise aglow
Sparkling in the blind man’s eyes.
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