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© Carl Martin Johnson, All rights reserved

The Long Way Home

By Carl Martin Johnson

I took the long way back from Alice’ house.
There were stars I’d been neglecting.
I felt I’d been a selfish louse,
Since it was my verses they’d been perfecting.

The path I chose wound through the trees,
And no moon gave me light.
Still, I made my way with ease,
With the help of my stars’ light.

I came quickly to the clearing,
Where the stars were wont to greet me.
They were impatient, as I was fearing,
Yet they twinkled warm to meet me.

They had secrets wanted knowing,
Meant for no one but me.
They told me with their soft glowing
There was more life I must see.

They said I must start walking,
Until I found why I was here.
That my constant talking
Would not help the truth appear.

So I changed my life’s direction.
I started home another way.
I will find my pathway to perfection.
I’ll keep walking until that day.


By Carl Martin Johnson

Beware men who speak for gods,
Unless they are divine,
For they may set the tribes at odds
To advance their own design.

Think before you are misled.
Do the gods need words to reach you?
Could they not put thoughts into your head,
Had they a thing to teach you?

Why this man, and not another?
Why do gods hold him so dear?
Why him rather than his brother,
The gods select to hear?

Is he gaining wealth or power?
Who benefits from his word?
Does he shout down from a tower,
So that only his voice is heard?

Best look within for the Divine Voice.
You will find it, sweet and clear.
Into your soul the gods speak the choice
Of what they want you to hear.


By Carl Martin Johnson

The blind girl sat inside her mind,
Watching the souls go by,
Hoping that among them she would find
One that would make her spirit fly.

The world around her went unseen,
Although she knew it well.
She hid behind her blindness’ screen,
Secure within her shell.

Her eyes betrayed when she had sight.
Handsome faces led to pain.
She hoped now, in her constant night,
To fall in love again.

This time she would not see, but feel.
She would not be misled.
She would find a love that’s real,
If only in her head.


By Carl Martin Johnson

The monsoon rain washed off the blood
That streamed rust-red down his face.
He staggered forward through the mud,
At a wounded warrior’s pace.

He had sharp felt the bayonet,
But the pain was drowned by fear.
He swore not to die just yet.
He held life too dear.

All night long he lay stilled
Covered by dying and dead.
If he moved, he would be killed.
So, frozen, he cried and bled.

He listened to the enemy laugh,
Joking amongst his brothers.
It tore his soldier’s heart in half,
That he had not died with the others.

He passed out,and when he came to,
Hours had gone by, or a minute.
Maybe a lifetime for all he knew,
And this was Hell with his soul in it.

He alone lived in the field of death.
The enemy had gone.
He endured pain with every breath,
Yet he would carry on.

He crawled at first, then he stood,
Dragging himself along.
He would survive; he knew he would.
He was a Ranger; he was strong.


By Carl Martin Johnson

Today will be a happy day.
I’ll greet it with a smile.
I may have no reason right away,
But one will come up in a while.

The sun may shine or not.
Either way will be fine.
What I’ll get is what I’ve got.
At least it will be mine.

Maybe I will write a song,
And sing it to the birds.
They can help if my music’s wrong.
I’ll provide the words.

Just in case there is a storm,
Or something bad arises,
I’ll have good memories tucked away warm
To take care of those surprises.


By Carl Martin Johnson

I will touch you until you quiver
In all your magic places.
Sweet sensations I’ll deliver,
Spreading joy across our faces.

Spin, my lovely sweetheart!
Spin, my lady fair!
Thus will passion’s heat start,
And ardor’s aroma fill the air.

Feel the energy pass between us,
Before our bodies begin the dance,
Before the stars have yet seen us
In the throes of wild romance.

Whispering my breath over your neck’s curve,
I’ll electrify your senses.
I’ll set tingling every nerve
Until your whole body tenses.

Then, like a comet bursting,
We will flame the sky,
And satisfy this thirsting
Of sweet lust between you and I.


By Carl Martin Johnson

I will whistle up a wind,
A wind to carry us away,
To a land where we’ll pretend
Every day’s a holiday.

Where the sun kisses us good morning,
The rain is gentle when it drops,
Smile bloom without warning,
And birdsong never stops.

I’ll run with you along the shore,
White sand squeezed through our toes.
All of love’s ways we’ll explore,
More content as our love grows.

When at last we need to sleep,
We’ll lie among soft flowers.
Our rest will be pure and deep,
Warm dreams will fill the hours.

Our lives are very short,
But joy-filled they will be.
We will make them works of art.
Close your eyes and come with me.



By Carl Martin Johnson

From darkened doorways child eyes spied,
Wide in the jungle heat
The village quiet like its soul had died,
Been crushed in hard defeat.

The soldier walked point for the patrol,
All his senses on high alert.
He knew he had to keep control,
Or they’d be bleeding in the red dirt.

Yellow dogs nipped at his heel.
He kicked and they were gone.
He shook with a ghost’s breath he could feel.
It passed through him and moved on.

The wet silence bore into him,
Deep and rotting like a tomb.
He held fast, lest it subdue him
With its prophesy of doom.

He kept his weapon ready.
Sweat poured but he dare not blink.
His gaze swept smooth and steady.
Only instinct, no time to think.

No enemy rose to meet him.
The armed men must have fled.
No children ran to greet him.
That gave him a sense of dread.

He scanned the thatched roofs for any sign.
He could see no threat.
For an instant he glimpsed a shine,
But not enough to fret.

With raised hand he called his squad.
They moved forward with due care.
Their nostrils were filtering an aroma odd,
A stench of massacre in the air.

The shot that split the point man’s head
Was an echo from the past.
Muffled from long years of dead,
A warrior phantom’s blast.

The soldiers had come this way before.
The ambush had been real.
They were being killed once more.
Not by bullets they could feel.

There was neither shame nor glory
In the bloody way they died,
So this replay was their Purgatory.
For how long God will decide.

By Carl Martin Johnson

Woman, tell me who you are!
Tell me now, and don’t you lie!
You are more than me by far,
But you want me…Tell me why.

Your loving words are frightening.
If I believe them, I am lost.
You come at me like lightning.
In that storm, my heart is tossed.

Will you drown me in your eyes,
Seductive pools of pure affection?
What, tell me, would you advise?
Please give me your direction.

You have trapped me with your spell.
I have no means to fight you.
Other combat I know well.
Here I have no sword to smite you.

Damn you woman to hellfire!
This love is not one I wanted.
But you have me helpless with desire.
By your loving I am daunted.

The current is too strong.
I cannot swim against it.
I let it carry me too long,
I know I should have sensed it.

I have no choice but to surrender,
Lay down my arms and give in,
Hoping that your terms are tender,
And you be generous in your win.


By Carl Martin Johnson

The storm had lashed us with its lightning,
Beat us with its hail,
Attacked with thunder frightening,
Blown us over in its gale.

Homes were wrecked and scattered.
Sacred possessions lost.
Many lives were shattered.
Those alive paid a heavy cost.

Vacant gaze met vacant stare.
Neighbors wandering in shock.
Once a town, now nothing there.
Eyes would meet, but never lock.

We were drained of life and hope.
What had caused God to desert us.
Souls in darkness left to grope.
How could He so cruelly hurt us.

Perhaps it was true what I had read:
There was no more God above us.
Perhaps He was truly dead.
No one left to love us.

I closed my eyes and screamed,
Giving way to black despair.
Life was nothing like I’d dreamed.
There was heartache everywhere.

Then I felt a golden ray.
The clouds had split apart.
God had not gone away.
He sent His rainbow to give us heart.


By Carl Martin Johnson

She left him in the Fall,
Just before the winter came.
She had been his all,
But hers was not the blame.

He had no cause to stay.
Without her it was no home.
He liked drifting, anyway.
It suited him to roam.

Now all in the world he owned
Was on the back of his Harley bike.
Returning to life postponed.
He and the road were just alike.

Both wandered over the Earth.
Their destination was the run.
Every day a brand new birth.
The journey never done.

The chase would not always be enough.
He knew there must be more.
Though these times were pretty rough,
There was bound to be good in store.

He would find an answer.
Something satisfying.
Make Life his private dancer.
Full performance before dying.

For now he’d run the race.
Turn his bike’s throttle full.
Let the wind blow in his face.
Give in to destiny’s pull.


By Carl Martin Johnson

She lay naked in the day,
Face up to the late Spring heat,
Every tingling sense at play,
From her forehead through her feet.

She spread wide in the flowers,
Bright and yellow all around.
She would lie like that for hours,
Listening to sweet Nature’s sound.

Every bloom was a joyous thing,
A sun-dropped tear of purest light.
With the celebration that they bring.
Radiant and bright.

The breeze caressed her skin.
She sighed and closed her eyes.
There was coming a welcome sin,
One the tall flowers would disguise.

Insects hummed a love song.
Grasses stroked inside her thighs.
What she awaited would not now be long.
She could not hold back her sighs.

Throughout her body the warmth was spreading,
Conjured by Nature’s male sensations.
Her inhibitions were fast shedding
Into the earth’s sensuous vibrations.

To Life’s rhythm she moved her hips,
Prey to Nature’s strong seducing.
A wanton smile grew on her lips
At the ecstasy it was inducing.

She trembled in her ardor,
Spasmed luxuriously in delight.
Passion convulsing her ever harder,
Until consummation held her tight.

Then she eased into her sleep,
With Nature, ardent lover.
The ground beneath her rich and deep.
Nature’s embracing sky above her.


By Carl Martin Johnson

The sound of one hand clapping
Awoke me from my sleep.
I had been only napping,
Yet my thoughts were very deep.

I’d neared the answers I was seeking.
They stood just beyond my reach.
Whatever gods were speaking
Had wisdom they could teach.

But they wanted just to tease me,
Show me Truth’s seductive thighs.
Their intent was not to please me,
Only tempt me with the prize.

One day I will not wake.
Gods who taunt me I will trap.
Their secrets I will take.
Then I will hear both hands clap.


By Carl Martin Johnson

Lash me with your lightning.
Pelt me with your rain.
I do not find you frightening.
With contempt I bear the pain.

Your gales that slam me in the night
Cannot move me from my stand.
You must show much greater fight
‘Ere I bow to your command.

You, with all your power,
Cannot bring me to my knees.
Your thunderheads I will devour
And tame your hurricane to breeze.

It is not the storm outside I fear,
But the tempest in my soul.
For there dwells all that I hold dear.
And I fight to keep it whole.


By Carl Martin Johnson

Be still and feel the Lifebeat.
Sense its throbbing in the earth.
Deep where whispering souls meet,
Sharing stories of Man’s birth.

Rhythm slow and steady,
Resonating in the cosmos’ heart,
Cycling, ever ready,
Sending dancing every part.

Booming out through astral spaces,
Hoping to reach God’s great ear,
With song the universe embraces,
Music all of life holds dear.

Then it echoes back inside us.
If we hear it, we can grow.
The Lifebeat will provide us
With all we need to know.


By Carl Martin Johnson

Her lips were moist with lover’s dew,
Eyes misty in her ardor.
As the fire inside them grew,
She pressed him to her harder.

He smooths her breasts with tender hands,
Soft velvet with his touch.
Their bodies obeying love’s command.
Their wills in passion’s clutch.

She caresses him with gentle fingers,
Plays his body like a lyre.
Her breath on his hard stomach lingers,
Setting heart and loins afire.

She brings her lips up to his face.
Mouths meet in molten flame.
They become one in their embrace,
With an ecstasy beyond name.


Beware They Who Speak For Gods
The Blind Girl
Ranger In The Rain
A Happy Day
Touching You
The Sound Of One Hand Clapping
Whistle A Wind
The Tempest
Her Lips
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