Carl Martin Johnson
Poet, Author, Slayer of Dragons
© Carl Martin Johnson, All rights reserved
THE KILLING FIELD
By Carl Martin Johnson
Death’s perfume traveled thick and far,
Spreading foretaste of the horror,
Wreaked by the cruel goddess of war
On the men who had died for her.
Through the night I moved with care,
Jungle silence the enemy’s warning.
Knowing the dark’s cloak would be threadbare
In the coming light of morning.
I pressed on toward the smell,
Afraid of what I’d find.
Was this a jungle where demons dwell,
Or was the stench from humankind?
I was the last of my patrol,
Stumbling bleeding and afraid.
Yet I would not release my soul.
I swore death would be delayed.
The jungle at last began to thin.
Moonlight filtered through the trees.
Far less concealment than had been.
My heart began to freeze.
The skyglow bathed the field ahead.
I dropped quickly to the ground.
To my front were only wordless dead,
In a still ballet profound.
Weapon ready, I rose slowly,
Wiping blood-sweat from my eyes,
In quiet absolute, unholy,
Save escaping spirits’ sighs.
Then, in milk-white tropic light,
A tattered foe clawed to his feet.
Though he had not been killed outright,
He was only shredded meat.
He did his best to lift his gun.
Mine was pointed straight.
While I had the duel won,
I was too tired to hate.
Our locked eyes could not turn away.
Bloody death made him my brother.
We might fight another day,
But we would not kill each other.
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SEARCH HARD
By Carl Martin Johnson
Search hard for that born in you.
Every human has a seed.
What will be and what has been you,
It will grow to what you need.
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PANIC’S PANTHER
By Carl Martin Johnson
Panic’s panther stalks the night,
Crying for your soul.
Take great care or feel his bite,
Your spirit swallowed whole.
You’d best journey armed.
Use courage as your spear.
You cannot be harmed
If you overcome your fear.
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YOU COMPLETE THE WORLD
By Carl Martin Johnson
You make the world complete.
Without you it’s not whole.
Long before your heart first beat,
You were a human soul.
You will never cease to be,
Even though you may change form.
You exist eternally.
Death itself can do no harm.
You are partner in creation.
Look inside and know.
Rise up in celebration.
Feel your being grow.
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WAKE THE COURAGE
By Carl Martin Johnson
(To the Patriots of Venezuela)
Wake the courage that lies sleeping.
Rouse it now and fight!
The nation’s heart is in your keeping.
Her soul is your birthright.
Feel your spirit’s flame.
Burn bright through tyrant’s chains.
Put the despot’s hordes to shame.
Heroes’ blood flows through your veins.
Right will be your shield.
Honor your sharp sword.
They will see your nation healed,
And the people’s rule restored.
So together cast your lot.
Accept your obligation.
Though the struggle be hard fought,
You will restore your nation.
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PATRIOT’S GHOST
By Carl Martin Johnson
I gave my life for liberty.
I do not begrudge the price.
Should it keep my people free,
I would gladly pay it twice.
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THE FLEETING WORD
By Carl Martin Johnson
A fine word slipped my mind,
There briefly and then gone.
They are so hard to find,
And how quickly they move on.
Could be it is still there
In some dark recess of my brain,
Hiding from fame’s glare
Until safe to move again.
But poets are notoriously sly.
Not people words should trust.
For great syllables we would die,
And cheat, if cheat we must.
So, I will lie in wait,
Keeping my thoughts clear,
Using nonchalance as bait,
‘Til that damned word comes near!
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THE WATCHFUL GHOST
By Carl Martin Johnson
I stand here in the twilight,
This place ‘tween Life and Death,
To guide souls through the Good Night,
When the body breathes last breath.
I watch as they rush by,
Eyes spread wide in terror,
Wanting badly not to die,
Certain fate has made an error.
I calm them when I can,
Show them the Light ahead,
Remind them the soul of Man
Lives on after the body’s dead.
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COURAGE
By Carl Martin Johnson
It is courage makes a warrior whole,
Gives the other virtues worth,
Rich water that grows his soul,
And lends value to his birth.
No matter a handsome face,
Untold wealth or fame,
The coward is a disgrace,
His tribe’s undying shame.
The gods love most the brave
Who does the best he can.
His memory they will save.
It is he whom they call Man.
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MONSOON PATROL
By Carl Martin Johnson
This day’s been long and draining.
We’re weary from the fight.
Soaked through from heavy raining,
Praying for the cloak of night.
The choppers cannot fly.
The downpour is too hard.
If we don’t want to die,
We best keep up our guard.
The new guy finally died.
He’d been in lots of pain.
No one knew I cried,
Not in this fucking rain.
We’ve finally made the clearing.
We’ll get evaced at dawn.
It’s not Charlie, but rain I’m fearing.
Praying these damned clouds be gone.
Tonight no one will sleep.
Too scared and cold and wet.
We can’t hear Charlie creep,
‘Cause this storm ain’t stopping yet.
I wonder if I’ll make it.
Guess we all think the same.
I’m not good, but I can take it.
I won’t cause my people shame.
If I live, I will remember,
How I survived where I have been,
In the monsoons of September,
In the jungle near Tay Ninh.
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CLOUD WINGS
By Carl Martin Johnson
My son, see that cloud up there?
The one with fluffy wings?
Must be a guardian angel somewhere
Who’s looking for those things.
Maybe he took them off to nap,
But I don’t think angels sleep.
Or could be he just broke a strap
While making a celestial leap.
So when you kneel to pray tonight,
If a sad angel’s walking by,
Tell him things will be all right.
That his wings are in the sky.
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