Carl Martin Johnson
Poet,  Author,  Slayer of Dragons

THE IDEA
By Carl Martin Johnson

It exploded in my mind
Like the birth of a universe.
A burst of light where I was blind,
As if I’d shed some demon’s curse.

It soaked my brain in nurturing dew,
Causing growth in dormant thought.
I could distinguish false from true,
More certainty in what I sought.

It was too grand for words to fit.
I was hypnotized by its glowing.
Then it released me bit by bit
To absorb slowly its knowing.

A transfusion for my being,
The Idea bade me awake.
At long last I was seeing
The path that I would take.

Something deep within me bloomed.
What I had been was increasing.
My old self was being consumed
A finer thing in its place releasing.

At last the panacea!
At last I was set free.
I became the Idea.
The Idea became me.

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ALLIES
By Carl Martin Johnson

Will you not join with us, friends?
Must we stand alone?
We are pursuing the same ends,
Our histories have shown.

Will you be behind us?
Or is that where you’ll hide?
When in danger you will find us,
So now fight at our side.

We share noble aspirations.
We must save them from attack.
If we are to protect our nations,
We must have each other’s back.

I know you have the heart.
You have been brave before.
Let us all now do our part,
Because the enemy’s at the door.

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PILATE
By Carl Martin Johnson

I am Pilate of the Samnite clan,
Of the noble family Pontii,
Wasting time judging a man
Who it seems wants to die.

He is accused of being bad.
In truth, his misdeeds are minor.
Though I grant the fool is mad,
A charlatan diviner.

Yet he has an air about him,
This scruffy Nazarene.
While I surely doubt him,
He faces me serene.

Well, I cannot waste my time.
On this Jew king of the meek.
I’ll rule him guilty of some crime,
And give everyone what they seek.

Strange how one of such low caste
Can seek such respect and fame.
Before his last breath is passed
There’ll be no memory of his name..

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IVAN
By Carl Martin Johnson

Ivan Slovak was a humble man,
With an unobtrusive way.
He was in bed as soon as night began,
And worked quietly by day.

His neighbors hardly knew him,
Though he’d lived there fifty years.
They’d give a polite “Good morning” to him,
Ivan would nod his “Cheers”.

It was said he once had a wife
No one was really certain.
Like all else about his life,
This was hidden behind a curtain.

For years I watched him come and go.
I lived across the street.
I never said more than “hello”
In a lukewarm passing greet.

I felt pangs of guilt at last.
Ivan seemed so much alone.
I felt I should do more than just walk past,
If only a friendly gesture shown.

I determined to knock on his door next day,
As soon as I got up,
To ask if he could see his way
To join me for a cup.

So I woke early and got dressed,
In a slightly self-righteous mood.
Certain that I would be blessed
For the inspiration I’d pursued.

I had reached my front yard gate
When I halted in mid-stride.
A black hearse said I was too late.
During the night Ivan had died.

I was the only mourner at the end,
Save the priest who said the prayer.
I promised Ivan I’d be his friend,
If he’d forgive me from up there.

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THE BALLAD OF WICHITA BILL
By Carl Martin Johnson

Wichita Bill was a man of the law.
He roamed the West Texas plains.
Those who had ever faced his quick draw
Swore he’d rattler’s blood in his veins.

His brother was young, fierce and wild.
Like Bill, he was fast with his gun.
Bill had raised him since he was a child.
He was really more like a son.

But his brother killed a man in Fort Worth.
Shot him down in front of his bride.
From the moment of the young brother’s birth,
This fate could not be denied.

He ambushed the sheriff who chased him,
Left him in the desert to die.
Shot the two deputies who faced him
In the pueblo where he’d holed up nearby.

If he made it down to the border,
Where Texas and Mexico changed hands,
He’d escape all law and order,
In the lawless and wicked badlands.

Wichita Bill had prayed he’d be spared
His having to hunt down the kid.
It would be hard for a brother who cared,
To seek justice for what the boy did.

Death he was certain would come,
No holding back for their ties.
He would hear the executioner’s drum
When he looked into the guilty youth’s eyes.

On a dusty-hot Laredo street,
Hard destiny took life command.
They both knew the fate one would meet
By the quicker brother’s gun hand.

Wichita Bill was sure he would win.
He was swifter….had surer aim.
There was no doubt that he’d been
Justified in his gunfighter fame.

Bill was steel-eyed and grim.
The young brother risked a bright smile.
He was sure that it would be him
Who would be lying dead in a while.

Their pistols flashed like storm lightning.
Through the gunsmoke no one could see.
When it cleared, the sight was frightening.
The boy stood and Bill fell to a knee.

The kid grinned a cocky salute
Then he turned and mounted his horse.
Bill aimed, but he could not shoot.
It was a killing he just could not force.

The young brother waved one last goodbye,
Riding off to the edge of the town.
It looked like neither brother would die,
‘Til at the end of the street he went down.

Wichita Bill was a lawman.
He roamed the West Texas plains.
Now the legend of his fast draw, man,
Is all of Bill that remains.

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THE FORK IN THE TRAIL
By Carl Martin Johnson

I’ve reached a fork in life’s jungled way.
I must choose left or right.
One trail leads to joy and day.
The other to darkest night.

Which direction should I take?
I cannot wait much longer.
The decision that I make
Will make me weak or stronger.

One path does seem well-worn.
The other appears much less.
Since we are with some instincts born,
The well-traveled is the better guess.

I’m angry that I must decide.
The options are too few.
It truly does offend my pride
That life is telling me what to do.

I won’t be herded into a pen,
Even for my own good.
Nor told where to go or when.
I’ll blaze my own trail into the wood.

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I SWALLOWED THE SUN
By Carl Martin Johnson

I swallowed the sun this morning.
I should not have yawned so wide.
It just jumped in without warning.
Now I’ve got Day inside.

It’s not pitch dark outside, though.
The moon and stars are bright.
What a truly wondrous show,
The magnificence of the night.

I’m busy digesting the sun’s rays,
Sending joy throughout my being.
My smile will last for days and days,
From all the happiness they’re freeing

Soon I’ll burp the sun back to the air.
I do not mean to steal it.
But you will see I kept a share,
Because my eyes cannot conceal it.

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