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Shifting Reality, Or The Matrix?

     Shifting Reality, Or The Matrix?

Something is a little different every day.

Slight changes, in their own way.

The room seems slightly cleaner.

True?, or am I a dreamer?

Sometimes things shift during the day.

Almost imperceptible, I would say.

Be attuned and you will see.

Sometimes, even changes in me.

Do we slip in our reality?

Are we aware of our quality?

Most noticeable is loss of things.

Or, things moved without any means.

Less noticeable is how the day flows.

Not as smooth as it should go.

Is there something in between?

Is it things are not what they seem?

A daily shifting to a different place.

So minute that we miss our fate.

Try to be alert to any change.

It becomes apparent, though not explained.

It is enough to blow your mind.

Sorry, this is not so kind.

Yet, what is happening here?

Can anyone make it all clear?

First step is to become awake.

Observe all things. Whatever it takes.

Keep in mind, to keep it fair.

Be attuned to what’s in the air.

Or, maybe it’s in the water.

Are we being fed on fodder?

The answer lies beyond me.

Maybe you will be able to see.

It is all part of our reality.

Or, part of the matrix. Really?

—————————R.W. Johnson—–(2017)

 

 

 

The Magician’s War (Chapter 4)

           The Magician’s War (Chapter 4)

Anika waved her wand in the middle of a field.

Suddenly, an open portal, this action did yield.

The panthers, eagle, and herself stepped through.

The portal closed immediately, without a clue.

It was night in the First Level Of Hell.

They heard something give out a yell.

They took off running using light from her wand.

Something was behind them, really coming on.

They headed for a large rock outcropping.

They kept on running without stopping.

Found an overhang and ducked way back inside.

A huge critter slid to a stop outside.

Like a kangaroo, but on all fours.

A horn and nasty fangs to rip and gore.

Too big to squeeze in to where they were.

It tried to widen the entrance, for sure.

Anika pointed her wand. “Incinerator”

Flame and smoke snuffed the annihilator.

Only ashes left, which the panthers sniffed.

They snorted and each left on it a piss.

They decided to stay there for the night.

They would be safe till the morning light.

Her wand would guide her in the direction

of the right exit portal without exception.

Morning came and they looked around.

Of course, there was no village or town.

There was sparsely wooded rolling hills.

Sunny, with a slight breeze that left a chill.

A light breakfast of hardtack and cheese.

Then, off to see what they could see.

A panther went wide to each side.

The eagle flew over and ahead for the ride.

All were telepathically talking with her.

This way, she was aware of  where they were.

She told them which way the wand indicated.

Traveling was rough. Definitely overrated.

She could fly, if needed. But she didn’t.

The panthers couldn’t. So, not efficient.

Soon they saw a heard of buffalo??

Similar, but—- not exactly so.

These beasts could breathe fire.

They all moved together, with one desire.

Once the beasts caught their scent,

then, that would be all she rent.

They all looked up in their direction.

Too many to form a shield protection.

Then, the eagle spotted a cliff.

Told her where. Then they split.

They ran like hell toward the cliff.

Once there, each panther went up a tree.

She yelled, and the beasts looked to see.

They charged her in a maddened rush.

She waited for their intended crush.

At the last second, she shot into the air.

The beasts flew off the cliff everywhere.

They went crashing way below.

Onto a bunch of rocks. A deadly blow.

The four gathered together above.

She hugged the panthers with maternal love.

Then, they went on their way.

At least they were alive to fight another day.

The panthers ripped apart a  critter.

A rabbit sized, vicious, beast with a litter.

They were killed so fast, they couldn’t squeal.

That made their evening meal.

They found tall trees in which to spend the night.

They felt they would be safe there without a fight.

So ended their first day in the First Level Of Hell.

They were close to the exit gate, Anika could tell.

But, that’s a story for another day.

She prayed they would be safe along the way.

————————————R.W. Johnson—–(2017)

 

 

 

 

  

A Land Without Signs

      A Land Without Signs

Lost in a land without  signs.

How it would be if I were blind.

No ‘do this,’ ‘do that,’ or whatever.

I don’t know if this is better.

Advertizing is out the door.

For that, I’m happy to the core.

No road signs or mileage signs either.

Bad news if I get cabin fever.

No sign to keep off the grass.

Someone yelled “Move your ass.”

No warning signs of danger.

Walk carefully, if a stranger.

No buildings with names on them.

Embarrassing, walking into a girls gym.

Where’s the bathroom? I got to go.

Without a sign, I’ll be quite a show.

No stop signs. Drive with care.

No signs that say BEWARE!!

I don’t think I like this place.

I’ll take signs, whatever it takes.

A cop tapped me on the shoulder.

Woke me up, without being bolder.

The sign said no loitering or sleeping.

He waves me on, the park bench creaking.

I was back, as I kissed the sign.

The cop just shrugged. He didn’t mind.

————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2017)

 

 

 

The Library Of Babel

 

        The Library Of Babel

I am trapped with no way out.

I don’t know what it’s all about.

A Library Of Babel with endless rooms.

No way out with no ending soon.

Each door leads to another.

Endless rooms, each open to plunder.

Each room is a different time and age.

A different place to try to engage.

Every language from every time.

Ancient past to future unwinds.

Every story thats written, or will be.

Sitting there for anyone to see.

All bringing babble & more confusion.

Is all this real, or just an illusion?

Nothing to explain what’s going on.

Hallucination or nightmare, it’s all wrong.

Rooms with records of every man’s life.

Be it short or long, with all the strife.

Is this God’s record hall or am I nuts?

This is no place for the likes of us.

There has got to be a way out of here.

Maybe I just had one too many beers?

I don’t know if I am coming or going.

It is hell not really knowing.

I could stay here or move on to another.

Whatever room I’m in, I could smother.

It is too much, too big of a load.

I can’t handle the overload!!

I don’t even know how I got here?

Was I asleep or was it too many beers?

I keep thinking I will wake up.

Yet, here I am. Stuck in this rut.

Then, I have a brilliant idea to try.

“I will find the book of my life,” I cry.

It should tell me how this ends.

Will I be rescued by my friends?

After an eternity of searching,

I find my book where it was lurking

I flip to the final pages.

It says: Still in the works for the ages.

Looks like I will have to make my own ending.

I wonder if this is even trending?

—————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

Person Of Mystery

              Person Of Mystery

She was described as dark and beautiful.

She was quite reclusive, you could tell.

Often, quite shy when around people.

She could still work her magic spell.

She had an easy, addicting laugh.

A winning smile to go along with it.

She was an expert at her craft.

Described as mysterious, the title fit.

Yet, she had spells of depression.

She would withdraw from everything.

Often for weeks, she would have a session.

When seen again, it was like the spring.

Her eyes would glow with vibrant life.

She made you aware of her presence.

Though, still shy and full of strife.

Having her around was very pleasant.

You felt if she could be drawn out.

If she could overcome her fears.

She would impress all who were about.

There would never be a need for tears.

Her vitality would infect all others.

They would be in a better place.

She would influence all mothers.

To give all of what it takes.

Such a person is rarely seen.

Why the depression, is a mystery?

It is like she is stuck in between

heaven and hell. Happiness and misery.

She will end up in one place or the other.

Happiness is what I would like to see.

But, then, I am her lover.

I would like to see her set free.

————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

 

Mother Nature

 

        Mother Nature

It was carried on the air.

You could hear it everywhere.

It reaches deep within your soul.

Stimulating you from head to toe.

 

It has a fragrance with it too.

The smell of spring or morning dew.

Fairies dance in its glow.

You’ll speed up, then take it slow.

 

It is around us every day.

Stimulating in every way.

Makes the old feel young.

Making every moment fun.

 

What it is, you haven’t a clue?

The parade is passing by you.

Take some time to smell the roses.

Listen to the song it composes.

 

See the colors in her dress.

She always dresses in her best.

She spins and twirls all around you.

It is Mother Nature, always true.

—————R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

 

 

Dim View Of Today

       A Dim View Of Today 

It’s the way that it’s done today.

Do they think there is no other way?

What about how it was done

yesterday, when times were fun?

 

That is a generation before their time.

But, that earlier generation was mine.

I feel things were better back then.

Not all the anger and need to win.

 

Less shootings and killing for sure.

No rioting or disruption, as it were.

Police were respected and trusted.

There was no fear of being busted.

 

People left their doors unlocked.

Home robberies were a crock.

People felt safe to go out at night.

Any problem could be made right.

 

A discussion and agreement reached.

No fear of anything being breached.

Wages earned by the sweat of your back.

You were happy for it. That’s a fact.

 

Your neighbor was your friend.

Not someone who did offend.

The ‘Golden Rule’ ruled the day.

Things were better in every way.

 

We should learn from our past.

Back then, things were built to last.

Life was better in every way.

Much better than the crap today.

 

Social skills today are in the toilet.

Smart phones are a way to spoil it.

No connection, except over a phone.

No wonder people feel all alone.

 

Oh, give me back the ‘good old days.’

Pat my back and give me praise.

Make me part of the current scene.

Nothing taken to the extreme.

———————R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

 

Fanatical Fan

         Fanatical Fan

I am coming down.

Will you come around.

To my way of thinking.

I say it while winking.

 

There is much to discuss here.

While we sit and have a beer.
Let’s have a meeting of the minds.

We are running out of time.

 

 “Will you, or will you won’t?”

“Just say I do and not I don’t.”

“It is impossible for me to know

just exactly which way you’ll go?”

 

We have dated for a long time.

We have always got along just fine.

It is time to up the ante.

Talk about something that can be.

 

It takes commitment and dedication.

A stronger stand in our relations.

There will be ups and there will be downs.

Sometimes we may feel like a clown.

 

But, the time is here to knuckle down.

Let’s have no more playing around.

Seasonal tickets is the way to go.

Will you say yes, or will you say no?

————————R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

Not The Way To Win A Trip

  Not The Way To Win A Trip

Shout it to all, hill over dale.

Today I won a trip in the mail.

Off to Alaska. All expenses paid.

Sounds like I have got it made.

I called the #,—- all excited.

He wanted info. I didn’t fight it.

He said I had a meeting to go to.

What else did I have to go through?

Two hours of my precious time.

Then, the trip would be all mine.

It was a time share. Imagine that.

They wanted my business. It’s a fact.

The two hours stretched to four.

I was ready to walk out the door.

We said “No!” a hundred times.

They were kind, but had set minds.

Finally, they wore us down.

They offered the best deal in town.

Now, we were ready for our trip.

It was all supplied in a little kit.

A hundred hoops to jump through.

Really limited on when we flew.

It took many calls to get it set.

Have we sacrificed enough yet?

We finally got the trip to Alaska.

If you ever go I won’t ask ya.

Cause, if your trip is like ours ,

you won’t want to go that far.

The trip really sucked big time.

Surely, the worst trip we could find.

Now we owe our lives to a time share.

I hope this makes you all aware.

It is a trap well worth avoiding.

In the end you’ll feel like voiding.

—————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

 

 

The Car Wash

                The Car Wash

They say it’s all happening at the zoo.

I can’t say that is totally true.

It’s happening at the car wash too.

There is so much there to see and do.

The water sprays out and soaks the car.

You’re not moving, but stay where you are.

Next, big brushes scrub car and wheels.

Soap is sprayed on and makes it squeal.

Then, here comes the water again.

Sprays all clean beginning to end.

Then some wax is sprayed on.

Then, just like that, it is gone.

You’re moved forward into a blast of air.

It dries your car with time to spare.

All of this takes minimal time.

Quicker than this poem can rhyme.

Off you go with a shinny clean car.

No doubt, it will rain before you get far.

————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)