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This Is Your Life

© Carl Martin Johnson, All rights reserved

The Crippled Warrior

By Carl Martin Johnson

This is your life,
Embrace it!
It may not come again.
Stand proud and,
Face it!
It is where YOU begin.




By Carl Martin Johnson


Should wisdom be beyond your reach,
Climb to knowledge’ mountaintop.
You must learn before you teach,
And you can never stop.


Victory will come to you,
But only if you fight.
Your shield will be that which is true.
You sword will be what’s right.


To reach your destination
You must pass the dragon’s cave.
Steel your determination.
Paradise is for the brave.


With courage you will make it.
Grasp enlightenment’s Fire.
The flame is yours, so take it.
Light ignorance’ funeral pyre.




By Carl Martin Johnson

A butterfly fluttered to me,
Its wings bright gold and red.
Such beauty a fine sight to see,
As it lit upon my head.

Its wings made a lightly perfumed breeze,
Soft as an angel’s breath.
No sensation could more please,
At least this side of death.

The creature whispered to me,
Though uttering not a word.
The meaning filtered through me,
As if a heavenly voice I heard.

It said Man is unique.
We are God’s greatest prize.
And the answers that we seek
Are found in a baby’s eyes.




By Carl Martin Johnson


The leaf fell, golden, from the tree,
And fluttered in the air.
Now for all eternity
Its place in life was bare.


When green, it had done well,
Making life from sun’s sweet light.
It fed a tree before it fell,
Before it dropped off and took flight.


Now the leaf plays in the wind,
Dancing in the autumn gusts.
A ballet that will not end,
‘Til it sates the season’s lusts.


Then the leaf will rest,
Lying bright red on the earth,
Adding color to autumn’s fest,
Awaiting a new year’s birth.




By Carl Martin Johnson

Some nights the lights would blind her,
Along the Sunset Strip.
Then she’d pray her mind would find her
Before she was swept up in insanity’s trip.

She still had her knockout face.
Her body drove men wild.
But she’d lost much of the grace
She’d had since she was a child.

Her lover had moved on
Hurt deep by her faithless ways.
She missed the love that was gone.
Not at night, but in the days.

Now she woke up with strange men.
Didn’t bother with their names.
Real love would not come again.
She was only playing games.

She would never be a star.
When not high she would admit it.
Each lustful sin would scar,
But to forget she would commit it.

Day by day she’d age.
‘Til one day she’d be alone.
Loneliness would be the wage
She’d earn for the life she’d known.

In early dawns she’d sit and cry,
Soul bleeding from Fate’s sharp bites.
She wanted to curl up and die
Beneath the glare of Hollywood lights.




By Carl Martin Johnson


When you see no clouds up there,
Reach out and catch some starlight.
Streaming through the crisp night air,
It shines clearly, though a farlight.


Take a handful of it.
Put it in your pocket.
When night has clouds above it,
Then you can unlock it.


When your pocket’s overflowing,
Store some in your heart.
Drink its joyful glowing
Should sorrow pull your heart apart.




By Carl Martin Johnson


I see happiness sneaking ‘round,
Trying to make me smile.
I know for sure that once I’m found,
I’ll be grinning for a while.


I feel fine being sad.
I like doom and gloom.
I wake up always mad,
Though I don’t know at whom.


Now this silly, devious joy
Seeks to catch me unaware.
My sweet darkness it would destroy,
Trapping me in bliss’s snare.


You will seduce me with your glee.
I know your laugh will break me.
But I won’t be cheerful long, you’ll see.
Unless every day you make me.




By Carl Martin Johnson


I am a minor god here.
There is One much greater.
He is not a god I fear.
He is my creator.


We lesser gods are lonely.
We have an emptiness inside.
It could be filled if only
We could overcome our pride.


To be a Great God is my desire.
That destiny is mine.
I will brave all storm and fire
To join my soul with the Great Divine.


Every minute I grow stronger.
I will evolve, I know I can.
Only a few generations longer.
Meanwhile, my name is Man.




By Carl Martin Johnson

Southern Woman stands her ground.
Who confronts her best be armed.
Yet in poise and grace is she drowned.
Many men has the lady charmed.

She held her head defiant
When Yankees burned her home.
Nor was she compliant
When she saw the Redcoats roam.

She is famed for generosity,
But that masks a warrior’s heart.
When she fights, it’s with ferocity.
She is the best of womanly art.

Fortunate you are my friend
To be Southern Woman’s man.
She’s been loyal to the end
Since America began.

I am surely one
Upon whom the Fates have smiled.
I’m blessed to be a proud Southern Son.
A Southern Woman’s child.




By Carl Martin Johnson

Throw me to the wolves, my friend.
And I will lead the pack.
It will be not my end
But yours when I charge back.

I am far too mean to die.
I’m not allowed in the Heavenly queue
For worry I’d make angels cry.
 And Satan fears I’ll stage a coup.

I am the only alpha male.
I protect the others.
I will kill those who assail
My sisters and my brothers.

When my pack runs in the moon’s bright light,
Evil beings best clear our way.
Unless they are ready for a mortal fight.
Then they will rue the day.

Beware my long-fanged maw.
It will drip red with enemy lives.
I obey only jungle law.
In me righteous vengeance thrives.



By Carl Martin Johnson

God blinked when He made me.
I am a blip in his Creation.
I know He’d like to trade me.
I am an aberration.

I am His wayward child.
One that’s best forgot.
A man that’s running wild,
Yet happy with his lot.

I am a new branch on Man’s tree.
Bred of divine lapse.
This wanton soul will soon break free,
To become a god, perhaps.



By Carl Martin Johnson

Sometimes he could hear the blast,
See his legs where they lay torn.
But done was done and in the past.
It did no good to mourn.

His woman had moved on.
He did not resent it.
The love she’d felt was gone.
Her constant care had spent it.

Now the days were hard,
Though he let no one know.
He hid that his soul was scarred.
Never let the darkness show.

He looked out over the sea,
Not letting himself ask why.
In his dreams he still ran free.
And one day he would fly.


By Carl Martin Johnson


I see a thing I greatly fear.
My life just spinning past.
I badly want to stop it here,
And make this good time last.


The days are hurtling by,
Each one barely a flicker.
As I near my time to die,
They seem to go much quicker.


I wish I could freeze today,
When life is such a smile.
Never let it slip away,
At least not for a while.


But tomorrow may be the best,
A monumental date.
So if with patience I am blessed,
I will find the strength to wait.




By Carl Martin Johnson


There’s no word for the sorrow
That rips a heart asunder,
Robs a soul of its tomorrow,
And destroys all sense of wonder.


Whose tears are made of blood,
Pouring out of eyes despairing.
Drowning in the crimson flood
From a sadness far past caring.


It will bow you low.
Break you if you let it.
Like cancer, it will grow.
Hold you fast, lest you forget it.


Fight it, and fight hard,
Or it will defeat you.
Leaving your soul bruised and scarred
From clubs of agony that beat you.


Cast out the demon slashing.
Exorcize it and its cause.
Escape its sharp teeth gnashing.
Tear free from sorrow’s jaws.




By Carl Martin Johnson

This November love is here.
It came with the Fall.
Someone holds me very dear,
Wants me most of all.

This November won’t be cold.
Her arms will keep me warm.
We’ll watch the leaves turn into gold,
The autumn world transform.

This November I will taste
The first snowflake that falls.
Nor sight nor sound will go to waste.
I’ll hear every bird that calls.

This November I’ll breathe cool air,
Savoring the crisp clean smell.
I’ll embrace what’s living everywhere,
Largest oak to smallest cell.

This November I will cry.
But the tears will be of joy.
For I’m a soldier who did not die.
A man war did not destroy.



By Carl Martin Johnson


His woman had to feed him.
The blast had left him armless.
He knew she didn’t need him.
He was useless. He was harmless.


For his torments he placed no blame.
His honor had been kept.
He’d fought well and without shame.
Still, late at night he wept.


His wounds were getting worse.
His body was not healing.
Now living was a curse.
Only death would stop this feeling.


He was growing weak.
Tonight would be the end.
He’d find the peace he’d seek.
Death was coming as a friend.


And he saw his soul’s arms clear,
Though his body’s were declawed.
He shed a happy tear,
As he touched the face of God.




By Carl Martin Johnson


I am a Veteran of every war
My country has ever fought.
In battles near and far,
I’ve seen freedom dearly bought.


I gladly shed my blood
So my countrymen might live.
In hot desert and jungle mud,
I gave all I had to give.


I’ve killed many men,
Though I found that very hard.
I would do it all again,
In defense of those I guard.


I die, but then I rise.
Death for me holds no fear.
Wherever my flag flies,
That place will I hold dear.


In harm’s way I stand.
Evil men I will defeat.
On the sea, in air, on land
American Warriors do not retreat.




By Carl Martin Johnson


It was the needle got him.
The tiny hole in his arm.
He survived when the enemy shot him.
It was the poppy did him harm.


Not on a jungle trail,
But on a city street.
He felt his life force fail.
He heard Death’s slow drumbeat.


The poison in his veins,
Fueled his trip to Hell.
His soul and body pains
Stopped with the man’s death knell.


It was the needle did him in,
Not the bayonet.
People will condemn the soldier’s sin.
His valor they’ll forget.




By Carl Martin Johnson

Rock me! Rock me!
Hold me in your arms.
Go ahead and shock me.
Melt me by your charms.

I will light your passion’s fire.
Together we will flame,
Sending our love pyre higher,
No inhibition and no shame.

Rock me! Rock me!
Let’s give each other pleasure.
In your smooth legs lock me.
These nights will be our treasure.




By Carl Martin Johnson

Bid farewell to kindness.
The time has come for war.
Our leaders, through their blindness,
Have let matters go too far.

We face a barbaric foe.
No honor to their cause.
By their atrocities they show,
They have contempt for God’s own laws.

It is up to us to fight them.
No quarter to be given.
With sharp knives we will smite them.
From the world they must be driven.

It is becoming late.
The cancer is in our midst.
Shall we meekly accept our fate,
And by slavery be kissed?

We must rise up for battle,
Though our leader be very weak.
Or be slaughtered as servile cattle,
Giving the enemy what they seek.

Countrymen, attack!
No matter we charge alone.
Let us take civilization back,
We fight for freedom’s throne.




By Carl Martin Johnson


Cease fire!
The battle’s done.
We have won.


Come tomorrow we fight again.
Lest the enemy grow stronger.
Pray God, once more we win.
That our people may live longer.


But tonight we will rest well,
Bind the wounds of those who bleed,
Bury the brothers who bravely fell,
And nurture valor’s seed.




By Carl Martin Johnson

If you cut me, I will bleed.
Yet I am hard to kill.
In this fight, you’d best succeed,
Or you, I swear, I will.


Hold The Day
The Butterfly's Secret
The Leaf
This November
Hollywood Lights
Catching Starlight
American Veteran
Sneaky Happiness
The Needle
A Minor God
Rock Me In Your Arms
Southern Woman
Farewell To Kindness
Alpha Wolf
God Blinked
Cease Fire!
To My Enemy
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