© Carl Martin Johnson, All rights reserved

 
 

YOUR FRIEND
By Carl Martin Johnson

 

When darkness comes to find you,
Look around…I will be there.
I’ll be standing right behind you.
I’ll have your back, I swear.

 

When Life rolls like a tidal wave,
And knocks you off your feet,
I’ll be there to keep you brave,
To save you from defeat.

 

If you feel the need to cry,
But fear the cold world’s scorn,
We’ll go somewhere, just you and I,
Where tears are shameless worn.

 

Your enemies are mine.
I am your sword and shield.
Be they demon or divine,
I will never yield.

 

I am by your side,
Forever, past the end.
Even after I have died,
I will always be your friend.

 

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ENDINGS
By Carl Martin Johnson

Never fear an ending.
It allows new to begin.
Even love, in brief suspending,
Sees a restored flame again.

Endings bring renewal,
Transformations large and small.
A lump of coal becomes a jewel,
Something more precious after all.

Now a year is winding down.
Soon its days will end.
Rather than leave it with a frown,
Smile at the departing friend.

Then open arms for a calendar new,
The good things it will bring.
Fresh bright days for me and you.
More chances for our hearts to sing.

 

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NEW DAY
By Carl Martin Johnson

I see the new dawn glowing.
A fresh day rises from the black.
What it holds there is no knowing.
Will it comfort or attack?

Life is a gift that must be earned,
With struggles that must be fought.
One thing certain I have learned,
With blood it must be bought.

The challenge makes life dear.
Gives it value. Gives it worth.
Though we must overcome our fear
From the moment of our birth.

I will hold life close and spend it well.
There may be no tomorrow.
This day may ring my own death knell.
I will not leave this world in sorrow.

 

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A SIMPLE MAN
By Carl Martin Johnson

Most men have complications.
Most men have a fantasy.
Robert Stone had no such sensations.
He was a simple man, you see.

People seldom saw him smile.
When he did, it was quite bland.
He never laughed, just not his style.
He was serious, you understand.

He rarely had an argument.
He tried to get along.
He did not much care how things went.
His opinions were not strong.

One day last month he passed me by,
Lost in thought and unaware.
I caught a sadness in his eye,
Though I tried not to stare.

My glance was only brief,
Yet I glimpsed his hidden soul.
I felt like a kind of thief.
In truth I had no control.

I saw images there that begged recall.
I only knew that they were tragic.
I would have erased them all,
Had I the proper magic.

At last the meeting left my mind.
I thought no more of Robert Stone.
Not that I meant to be unkind,
But I had problems of my own.

Then one day I heard the news.
Robert Stone had disappeared.
There were many rumors from which to choose.
No foul play was feared.

It seems no one really knew him well.
No one had guessed his plan.
No one asked what he had to tell.
Robert Stone was a simple man.

 

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THE MEETING PLACE
By Carl Martin Johnson

Moonlight spilled like buttermilk
Across the river walk.
The silence spread an unseen silk,
Muffling night ghosts’ talk.

It’s been years since I first was here.
To me it is a shrine.
Some memories are eternally dear.
This place holds the best of mine.

On that bench I took her hand,
And asked her to be my wife.
We had a happy future planned,
But we were hit by Life.

Each anniversary of that night
I walk here and wait,
Hiding in shadows from the light,
So she will come. She’s never late.

In the starlight glow I see her now.
She will pass without a sign.
Ghostly vague, but It is her I vow.
The woman who was mine.

I know she is an incorporeal wraith.
Beyond my human embrace.
Yet it gives my desperate love hope and faith
That she remembers our meeting place.

 

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SILENT SONGS OF ANGELS
By Carl Martin Johnson

A star is an angel’s silent song.
Part of the chorus in the sky.
To an unheard orchestra they belong.
In their silence you can see God sigh.

Look up and feel the wonder.
Let it soak into your soul.
All the beauty we lie under.
Grandeur of Night’s starry bowl.

Hear them with your heart.
Magic astral lights.
Let God’s symphony now start,
And lift us to their heights.

 

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PARIS, 8 JANUARY 2015
TO THE ENEMIES OF THE REPUBLIC


Yes, we can be killed,
But we will never bend.
We are French and strong-willed.
We keep our honor ‘til the end.

By Carl Martin Johnson
In deep sympathy and respect

 

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THE HOUSE ON THE BAD SIDE OF TOWN
By Carl Martin Johnson

When I saw her last she was crying,
The needle stuck deep in her arm.
Suicide, perhaps not by trying.
The poison doing its vicious harm.

I left feeling angry and hurt.
Satan’s nectar had won her from me.
She was dragging us both through the dirt.
There was no future for us I could see.

For many days I stayed away.
When I returned, she’d disappeared.
I should have known she would stray.
But it was much worse than I feared.

An evil man took her in.
He had a house on the wild side of town.
Where men celebrated sin.
Where many dark pleasures were found.

For the poppy’s candy she submitted
To every imaginable desire.
No matter the extreme vice committed,
She was tamed by heroin’s fire.

Each waking moment I was tormented
By visions of her degrading abuse.
I grew nearly demented.
My mind would grant me no truce.

Today I will be a man.
I will enter Lucifer’s den.
I will find her if I can,
And bring her home again.

The man-demon I will kill,
Who lured my sweet love so low,
He will do, by God, no more ill!
By my hand to Hell he will go!

 

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THE STAND
By Carl Martin Johnson

There is a time to take a stand,
To stop the words and fight,
To put a sword in our writing hand,
And strike with all our might.

The savage has no rules.
He kills with no regard.
If we are not damned fools,
We will hit him and hit hard.

Hold back and our children die,
Our wives and sisters become slaves.
Let jihadists hear our battle cry
As we drive them to their graves.

You who would negotiate,
Stand aside for we who war!
There is no time left to wait.
The enemy has gone too far.

 

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CLOUDY DAYS
By Carl Martin Johnson

I still smile on cloudy days,
Even those with rain.
Although I miss warm golden rays,
I know they’ll be back again.

When skies are overcast,
Cold drizzle fills the air,
I remember it won’t last.
Weather will soon be fair.

If I climb a mountain peak,
The clouds are down below.
Above me the sun I seek.
I bask in its sweet glow.

Look up at the clouds and smile.
They won’t be there for long.
The sun will come out in a while,
And the birds will sing your song.
 
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THE DRAGON COMES
By Carl Martin Johnson

The Dragon is coming for me.
He has hunger in his eyes.
His breath fire, his eyes stormy.
The screech of demons in his cries.

His body glows red through thick black scales.
His claws tear into the ground
With sword-sharp silver nails.
He is Lucifer’s great hound.

Out of gray mist I see him slide,
Moving at me with evil intent.
Had I time now I would hide.
Too late. He has my scent.

His lust is not for my meat.
My bones are not his goal.
The monster seeks a greater treat.
The dragon craves my soul.

I have courage as my shield.
For a sword I unsheathe prayer.
Thus armed I will not yield.
I say the fight is fair.

I vow I shall defeat him.
I hold my honor dear.
With God’s strength I will meet him.
In my soul there is no fear.
 
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LULLABY
By Carl Martin Johnson

Night Wind, whistle me a lullaby.
One that puts my heart to sleep.
Awake I will only cry.
The pain is far too deep.

Put my troubled soul to rest.
I know she will not return.
None be that grant such request
No matter how I yearn.

Each night I stand and listen
To your sweet sounds in the trees.
Stars above me like teardrops glisten
With pity on my lonely disease.

So make your music softly lulling.
Hum a chorus that brings a smile.
For a time my pain you’re dulling.
Giving me solace for a while.
 
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WE WHO ARE ABOUT TO DIE
By Carl Martin Johnson

 

“We who are about to die salute you!”
As is custom, thus we greet.
Great Caesar, we fight to suit you.
In victory and defeat.

 

This arena is where we kill.
Where someday we will die.
I and my brothers serve your will.
It does no good to cry.

 

I have fought often in this ring
Since your legions took me slave.
Of my prowess your poets sing,
But I am not so brave.

 

I have killed to entertain,
With my short sword and my spear.
Yet my Caesar feels no pain,
Nor what it’s like to be down here.

 

Today, say the omens, will be my last.
On the dirt will my life be spilled.
Payment full for my bloody past,
For all the men that I have killed.

 

I see death too in your royal eyes.
In this month of March, the ides.
The end will take you by surprise.
From Death, not even Caesar hides.

 

Should we meet in the hereafter,
In the beauty of Elysian Fields.
Perhaps we will share our laughter,
Where no man to Caesar yields.

 

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THE BABY’S CRY
By Carl Martin Johnson

I just heard a baby cry.
It filled me with delight.
It told me why I’m willing to die.
Why I have to fight.

Whose child it was I do not know.
But the young belong to us all.
They are the future, how we grow.
How we progress or fall.

From harm they must be spared.
From ignorance and evil saved.
As did those who for us cared,
All dangers must be braved.

The Child is why we’re here.
He gives worth to all our trials.
We must protect and hold him dear,
For it is children through whom God smiles.

 

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THE WHIRLPOOL
By Carl Martin Johnson

I slipped into the whirlpool,
Let it spin me ‘round and ‘round.
Being an egocentric fool,
I was nearly drowned.

The sea of self crashed all around.
Pride and licentiousness pulled me under.
I should’ve heeded the frightening sound
Of my conscience’s warning thunder.

The vortex held me fast.
The undercurrent of my own soul’s making.
The scope of my transgressions vast
On the death trip I was taking.

If I would not have my soul die,
I must swim hard against the tide.
And pray God hears my cry
That a Light be set to guide.

 

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TODAY
By Carl Martin Johnson

Today the dragon I will fight.
Today I’ll storm Hell’s gate.
Today I’ll light up the night.
Make love victor over hate.

Today I will begin.
Today I’ll grasp the sun.
Today I’ll start to win
The battles that must be won.

There’s a mountain I will climb.
An ocean I will cross.
Today I’m in my prime.
I’ll show the world who’s boss.

 

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OLD SONG
By Carl Martin Johnson

I heard an old song yesterday.
It brought a memory to mind.
I saw a place so far away,
That it was very hard to find.

I was younger then, and innocent.
You could say I was naïve.
The time was precious that I spent.
Yet I’ve no cause to grieve.

On a shaded walk I held a hand,
Tender, smooth and warm.
So happy I could hardly stand.
In my world there was no harm.

Her brown eyes were moist and shy
When she looked into my own.
I was in Heaven, but did not know why
It was the happiest day I’d known.

I forgot that sweet girl over the years,
With the feelings I had, so pure.
My later loves were mixed with tears,
Until I found one that would endure.

She gave a fine moment to my time.
One of the best among them all.
We shared an instant so sublime,
Though her name I can’t recall.

We were children, pure and young,
With first love that could not last.
But it was a song wonderfully sung
A joyous moment in the past.

 

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A LEAP INTO THE SUN
By Carl Martin Johnson

I leapt high into the Sun
To explore God’s fiery eye.
I must be a Chosen One,
Because I did not die.

I found there pure energy,
The source of life and light.
I inhaled its beauty into me
To turn my spirit bright.

I felt the pulse of the universe,
All Life beating as one,
Overcoming misunderstanding’s curse.
Knowing what God has done.

Then God sent a thought to me:
“I have created all for Mankind.
Now Man must decide what he’s to be.
The power is in his mind.”

 

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THE SCREAM
By Carl Martin Johnson

The universe gave out a scream
From the pain of giving birth.
And from the womb of the Cosmos’ dream,
Dropped Mankind on the earth.

 

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