Category: Free bird Poetry

Poems about the lonely traveler

Traveling In Time

       Traveling In Time

What if time was not linier?

You could jump around in time.

I know, it is a little queer.

But, all good times would be mine.

I would have the best of times every day.

Visit them again and again.

Every day I would play.

I probably wouldn’t know where to begin.

I could transverse time to my own pleasure.

Relive some of the most loving moments.

There are times I really treasure.

Go back to when I could eat donuts.

But, such an idea would be unsafe.

Man has not matured enough to handle it.

Some would try to manipulate a better fate.

The result would be bad, if they don’t quit.

No, man is not ready to traverse time.

We’ll have to learn from our mistakes.

If we do that, we may find

a better world, it will create.

Until then, it doesn’t hurt to dream.

We can come up with wonderful things.

Make them happen, if we scheme.

Amazing what imagination can bring.

————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

A Storm Is Raging

 

        A Storm Is Raging

A raging storm is going on.

Attitudes coming on strong.

The government owes us a living.

Support me now. I ain’t  fibbing.

 

Don’t worry about money. The rich will pay.

Hasn’t that been the American way?

I will riot, destroy, pillage, and burn.

Maybe then, you will finally learn.

 

I don’t work, so I don’t pay taxes.

Don’t tell me I know what lax is.

Maybe I was not born here.

Maybe I was. Get this clear.

 

You owe me. I don’t owe you.

What is this world coming to?

Why should I go to Mexico?

It is nothing but a hole.

 

The ‘haves’ should give.

So that the ‘have nots’ can live.

How dare you call me just a leach.

You need to watch what you preach.

 

Then judgment came down from heaven.

They were left without any leaven.

They did not raise to a better life.

They went down with all the strife.

 

To burn till all was gone.

Purifying all that was wrong.

They were motivated by the wrong God.

Now they have paid. That is not odd.

 

For what goes around comes around.

For many, this lesson will abound.

They will miss out on what’s really good.

Just to terrify their neighborhood.

—————————R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

 

 

 

Social Fears

 

       Social Fears

You seem to know

 when there’s no way out.

You lay low.

You’re not out and about.

Call you wise.

Call you afraid of it all.

The other guys

saw you at the mall.

 

You’re a creeper.

You come and go.

You’re not a seeker.

You just lay low.

You stir the pot.

Then disappear.

Likely, as not,

it’s all out of fear.

 

When trouble brews,

you have been seen around.

If only I knew,

I could have made you found.

This is it.

Face up to your actions.

I’ll never quit,

to get an extraction.

 

You’re a creeper.

You come and go.

You’re not a seeker.

You just lay low.

You stir the pot.

Then disappear.

Likely, as not,

it’s all out of fear.

 

What’s the game?

Why do you always do this?

It’s not the fame.

But, it is a real risk.

It’s just you.

It is how you are.

Fear is it.

But, why be afraid at all?

You don’t fit.

Chill out. Just have a ball.

——–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Too Many Lies

         Too Many Lies 

Lies, Lies—–will it ever end?

You keep telling lies. Why pretend?

You lie about this and lie about that.

How can you lie about being fat?

 

You can’t seem to tell truth from error.

You say you’re here, when you’re really there.

But, you can’t hide your lying eyes.

You couldn’t, even if you tried.

 

There seems to be no truth in you.

It is all lies, no matter what you do.

You lie so much, as you try to explain.

It is enough to drive a man insane.

 

You’re world is distorted by all the lies.

It is not real. All made up of alibis.

It is a fantasy world where only you exist.

I have had about all I can take of this.

 

I am leaving. You call it a lie.

You don’t even start to cry.

In your world, this wouldn’t happen.

If it did, you’d feel like crap then.

 

You can’t even be truthful with yourself.

If you could, you would seek some help.

In your world, if it doesn’t work.

You make up a lie to fix the quirk.

 

If I could see inside your core,

I would find a shop of horrors.

Totally fictional existence.

Nothing concrete , just pretence.

 

You’re hanging on to reality by a narrow thread.

That thread may snap and you’ll lose your head.

There is little help for that, though you’ll be free.

No more pressures or stress.—– Just fantasy.

 

Wake up and smell the roses.

Yes, they are real. So is psychosis.

You are skating on the lunatic fringe.

One little slip and it is the end.

———————————R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

A World Of Change

 

   A World Of Change

Welcome to my world.

If you are like me.

There really isn’t much to see.

It is not worth hanging around.

Yet, you stay, as I frown.

 

My life is boring.

Not much going on.

Most everything is gone.

It feels like the end every day.

Yet, you want to stay and play?

 

Welcome to my world.

What else can I say?

You insist on having it your way.

Soon, you will say ‘This sucks!!’

Welcome to all the muck.

 

I said it was boring.

Now, you know what I mean.

Will you up and split the scene?

I wouldn’t blame you if you did.

I often feel like I’ll flip my lid.

 

Welcome to my world.

It is what it is.

I have nothing left to give.

In this life, there is no rule.

Except I can never leave too.

 

My life is boring.

You can never run away from you.

This rings so very true.

I am stuck with what I have made.

Yet, you will not let it fade.

 

You are part of my world.

Things are changing fast.

I never thought it would last.

I can’t recognize my old life now.

It has all changed somehow.

 

My life is no longer boring.

You have turned the magic key.

You found the better part of me.

My world is magical, with no end.

I have found much more than a friend.

——————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

Fantasies Of A Poet

            Fantasies Of A Poet

When I think of the emotions wasted on you,

It burns me out. Through and through.

I showered you with all my affection.

All I ever got was just rejection.

Makes me wonder if others would?

I feel ousted out, like rotten wood.

Then, I met her briefly, and I was hooked.

I saw her by a bubbling brook.

It was a beautiful day in the park.

When I talked with her I felt a spark.

A small fire starting in my heart.

Desire, but not knowing where to start.

I have to quit writing these poems.

Get dressed and grab some coins.

Find her again and let the fire grow.

Then, I think about why I was feeling low.

I don’t know if I could take more rejection.

It would be harder than losing an election.

But, I will never know if I don’t try.

I strap down my heart and prepare to die.

I may be headed for another crash landing.

I know a relationship takes understanding.

When I was with her we seemed to click.

Maybe getting to know her is the trick.

If she likes poetry, I will write her one.

Make it a happy one, just for fun.

There will be a method to my madness.

In the end, I pray for gladness.

I have nowhere to go, but up.

I just need to make sure I don’t get in a rut.

—————————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)

 

 

 

From The Dark Into The Light

 

      From The Dark Into The Light

I am glad I was around.

You were going to the dark side of town.

You said you had to help someone.

I knew where you were coming from.

You would always think of others.

You would help them, despite your druthers.

It is not safe on the dark side of town.

There are rapists and evil clowns.

You will feel better if I come along.

Only for protection, don’t get me wrong.

 

You will want me to be around.

When you go to the dark side of town.

Together, we will make a team.

A couple who are looking mean.

Ready to take on any threat.

Don’t try something you will regret.

 

We made it to the one you seek.

They were ready to claim defeat.

They had hit bottom. Down and out.

Lying in an alley with feces about.

The place stunk to high heaven.

He had reached his Armageddon.

He was drunk and smelled like a brewery.

Too undernourished for any Tom Foolery.

He barely had the energy to walk with help.

This place wouldn’t rate one star on Yelp.

 

You will want me to be around.

When you go to the dark side of town.

Together, we will make a team.

A couple who are looking mean.

Ready to take on any threat.

Don’t try anything you will regret.

 

We got him up and the hell out of there.

He was almost more than we could bare.

She said “Are you ready to go with me?”

He said “Anywhere is a better place to be.”

We hailed a cab and took him home.

Cleaned him up and said he wasn’t alone.

Nursed him back to health again.

Got him in A.A. where he made a friend.

He remained sober and worked the steps.

He got a job. He had no regrets.

—————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

 

 

Whatever It Takes

            Whatever It Takes

Could I do it? No one else would dare.

I would much rather wrestle a bear.

It is dangerous and a little crazy.

But, then again, I thought—-Maybe.

Just because its never been done before

doesn’t mean it will end in gore.

It should be done on Halloween.

It is not as crazy as it may seem.

I could go down in history.

The only one to try it, you see.

But, then maybe they are right.

To try it will be a fright.

I am almost convinced to not try.

Just walk away and say goodbye.

But, something keeps saying ‘go for it.’

It will  be frightening for a  little bit.

Then, before you know it, it will be over.

I will then be rolling in the clover.

The rewards are worth the risk.

Better than the sidelines to just sit.

I will have a small cheering section.

Louder than the results of an election.

If I fail, my name will be mud.

Might as well change it to Elmer Fudd.

No, I don’t want to think of that.

I am a ‘do or die’ type of rat.

So, wish me luck, here I go.

I intend to steal the show.

———————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

 

 

Clean Conscience

              Clean Conscience

I have felt upside down and turned around.

But, I kept my conscience clean.

It was just a rouse till you turned me loose.

But, I kept my conscience clean.

You were misleading and mostly unheeding.

But, I kept my conscience clean.

You were demanding and not understanding.

But, I kept my conscience clean.

 

I am not proud.

I’m just one of the crowd.

I try to be fair.

Though, it gets me nowhere.

I stick by my word.

My sincerity is not inferred.

You’re not that way.

I can’t believe a thing you say.

 

You cheated, lied, and even cried.

But, I kept my conscience clean.

I came to know you put on quite a show.

But, I kept my conscience clean.

It was all an act, you were a real brat.

But, I kept my conscience clean.

You were not true, I ended up the fool.

But, I kept my conscience clean.

 

I am not proud.

I am one of the crowd.

I try to be fair.

Though, it gets me nowhere.

I stick by my word.

My sincerity is not inferred.

You’re not that way.

I can’t believe a thing you say.

 

Now, you’re free to look for another me.

But, I kept my conscience clean.

I hope he is cool and can see through you.

But, I kept my conscience clean.

It will be hard cause you’re a real card.

But, I kept my conscience clean.

He could drop you and not be a fool.

But I kept my conscience clean.

—————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)