Free bird Poetry – Page 47 – Word Smith Wisdom

“Wonder World” Goes Broke

Hear about “Wonder World” today?
A theme park in a special way.
Similar to the “West World” movie.
Robot oriented, and just a screwy.
There was a ‘Future Park’ to start.
Also there was a ‘Western Park.’
One similar to ‘Jurassic Park’ too.
And a ‘Today’s Park’ just for you.
More could be added later.
These were the demonstrators.
All were controlled by ‘Central.’
A computer room in the entrails.
All robots, be they android or beast,
Were programmed, the very least.
One day the system was hacked.
Hackers took over the ‘Central’ tract.
They demanded a hefty amount.
Or they would forget to count.
They would let the ‘bots’ run amuck.
‘Bots’ could rip out someone’s gut.
Arrogant owners refused to pay.
I feel sorry for all visitors that day.
Gun fighter ‘bots’ shooting it up.
Dino ‘bots’ were running amuck.
Future ‘bots’ were zapping all they saw.
‘Today’s bots’ were the worst of all.
A bloody, gory, disgusting mess.
The cleanup was worse, you can guess.
As the lawsuits continued to pour in,
the theme park folded, not seen again.
The ‘hackers’ were never caught.
They bugged out, likely as not.
Let this be a lesson to all entrepreneurs.
Have it all insured or it will go in the sewer.

——————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Enough Is Enough. He Was Fed Up.

Enough Is Enough. He Got Fed Up.

I don’t want to see you anymore.
I don’t want to feel your breath upon my neck.
I don’t want to try to even the score.
I have come to the point of ‘what the heck!!’
Anything that you try to do is too much.
You continue to be an irritant at all times.
You have become that pain I feel in my gut.
I don’t want to ever say again, “You’re mine.”
You can have the key to your door.
Give it to some other ‘sucker fish’ on your line.
I don’t need it. I don’t live there anymore.
Now I have better ways to spend my time.
You can catch a streetcar that goes into the sea.
The quicker it’s done the better I will feel.
It would mean the quicker you are away from me.
Sometimes I wonder how I got in this mess.
Then I remember. You needed some help.
Being a nice guy, I volunteered, I guess.
Before long, you had ‘suckered’ this little whelp
My life has been a living tragedy ever since.
But, that is finally over now.
I have finally hopped over the fence.
I have made my escape, like a free range cow.
The day will come when someone will stop you.
They will put you in your place.
You will be put high upon a shelf with no stool.
Then no one will ever have to see your face.

—————————————R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

A Chaperone Through Life

I went to a party on the back streets of L.A.
It was the same old thing I see every day.
A party without a chaperone is what it was.
Life without a chaperone is lousy because.
You have to learn things the hard way.
You can misinterpret what people say.
Life goes on, but the road gets rougher.
You grow up.——- You get tougher.
It seems it would be easier with a guide.
Someone who will take your hand with pride.
Guide you through the potholes of life.
Allow you to live with minimum strife.
What must such a person be?
Someone who will watch out for me.
An older brother or a street wise lover?
Maybe your father or your mother?
Whoever it is must be wise in their ways.
Be forgiving when I fail & say ‘it’s o.k.”
It could possibly be the Heavenly Father.
It wouldn’t be your son or daughter.
You should be such a person to them.
Let them learn from where you’ve been.
Life is not easy as we make our way.
Never be afraid of good advice, I say.

==================R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Astral Travel, Or A Hoax?

Educate the people is the name.
But, they didn’t mean this game.
The only way to stay alive now
is to not let anyone know how.
How to put yourself in a trance.
Leave your body & do the dance.
Out of body experience is known.
But, this is different, if shown.
You can not only travel anywhere.
But, you can do what I will share.
You can traverse time with ease.
Forward or backward, as you please.
No, it’s not just imagination.
You are there for the duration.
Out of body—– you are there.
You can go anytime, anywhere.
You must be in the proper trance.
Then you can do this little dance.
It’s been called a voodoo hoax.
Mystic Magic, they seem to boast.
But this is actual astral travel.
The way it works can baffle.
Did you know Custer wore a wig?
That Mona Lisa’s smile was a gig?
Robin Hood was an actual person?
A future Pope will be heard cursing?
You can learn this & much, much more.
I am offering you the open door.
Be brave enough to step right up.
There are some risks, but with luck
you can go where ever you want.
Find the Fountain Of Youth, or a font.
Don’t go back and kill your granddad.
The results of that will be pretty sad.
The worst part is I wouldn’t get paid.
So, take the chance, don’t be afraid.

———————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

The Ways Of The Night

I am a creature of the night.
Causing fear, I must stay out of sight.
I am a dreadful looking beast.
Born this way, it will never cease.
I only come out when it is dark.
Dark clothes & a hoodie. I am smart.
I cause fear, then a rage in others.
I must remain alone. Not my druthers.
When quite young my guard got lax.
Several punks jumped my back.
They got me down & poured gas on me.
They lit me up like a torch to see.
I screamed & ran, going insane from pain.
I tried to outrun the flames.
I blindly ran into the river.
The flames went out as I shivered.
I had started to go under fast.
I thought this would be my last.
Then one like me was pulling me in.
He pulled me out & took me with him.
He had a place way under the city.
Him & his father took care of me.
It was touch & go for a long time.
Only pain was on my mind.
Little by little I began to heal.
I was strong. I wanted to live & feel.
My scars were ugly, but I already was.
My hair grew back instead of fuzz.
The man who saved me was ugly too.
He had a good idea what I’d been through.
His father was also the same.
They stayed alive by playing my game.
They hated no one. They understood.
It was our looks that made us no good.
I lived with them many years.
There were many laughs & a few tears.
Then, the one I called grandfather, died.
Father was devastated. Be strong. He tried.
Later, my father was caught by hoods.
My father knew they were up to no good.
They killed him by beating him with clubs.
I dearly miss all of his hugs.
I am alone as I walk the night.
Any flame gives me a real fright.
I make sure no one ever sees me.
I want to stay alive & remain free.

—————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Mystery Monster

I saw the thing and I almost wrecked.
It was driving a truck. It had no neck.
It looked like evolution gone amuck.
What was it doing driving a truck?
It was a throwback from all & no age.
Its vertically slitted eyes were filled with rage.
This thing was to be avoided at all cost.
Yet, the fascination with it was wroth.
I felt like I should stop it, but how??
This thing was a least as big as a cow.
It was doing 70 on a very slick road.
Its pickup wasn’t carrying a load.
Maybe, with luck, it would spin out.
Have a wreck and bust its snout.
It has to be an experiment gone bad.
For it to be free is not very rad.
Then, ahead, there was a roadblock.
Police stopping all in every lane stop.
The ‘thing’ tried to ram its way through.
The cops were after it, just like I knew.
I followed them all where they went.
They blew out its tires, quite a stint.
The truck flipped over & it flew out.
It started running. They were all about.
They filled it full of holes & down it went.
After awhile it was up, with a limp.
They burned it with a flame thrower.
It twitched & thrashed & became slower.
Finally, it was still, burned to a crisp.
What was the meaning of all this?
I am thinking I will never know.
Traffic was waved on, moving slow.
Whatever it was, I hope it’s the last.
I almost threw up on my dash.

——————————R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

School Of Hard Knocks

Two little boys were huddled together.
They were in the alley, despite the weather.
They had something on the ground.
They were fascinated by what they found.
It was a little non-descript box.
The excitement could blow off their socks.
They were trying to get it open.
They thought maybe it was broken.
They had no key & there was no slot.
Yet, they knew they had to lift the top.
They twisted, pulled, pried, & cussed.
There had to be a way to make it bust.
They had no idea what was inside.
It didn’t rattle around, though they tried.
What in the world could it be?
It was a total mystery, they could see.
They decided to take the box home.
It was about the size of an old phone.
Not too heavy, but not really light.
Put in a backpack, it was just right.
At home, they went in the garage.
A big old hammer should do the job.
They beat the hell out of it.
Nothing happened. More cussing & spit.
They tried a drill, but the bit broke.
They took a brake & drank a Coke.
Then they tried to saw it open.
All they tried eventually got broken.
Looking close, they saw a little lip.
They put a pry tool under it.
After a lot of effort, the lid popped open.
Inside the box was a little token.
Stuck to the bottom to keep it still.
Was this worth all their stubborn will?
It said: I LIKE IKE in big letters.
That really fluffed up their feathers.
They threw the box in the trash.
Later they saw their dad with cash.
He said: “I found a box worth money.”
“It had an I LIKE IKE button in it worth plenty.”
Both the kids looked abashed.
Their big treasure had turned to ash.
Let this be a lesson well learned.
If you’re too greedy, you could get burned.

————————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Man Finds His Pot Of Gold

I would like to get on my own boat someday.
Plot my course and sail away.
I have a long distance goal in mind.
That pot of gold at the end of the line.
The one that is at the end of all rainbows.
The one that is out where the grain grows.
That ‘non-existent’ prize awaits.
For anyone to get who has the faith.
Maybe it won’t be actual gold.
Maybe it will be something untold.
I will recognize it when it comes along.
I will be dancing and singing my song.
Finally, the day did arise.
I quit my job and set off to find the prize.
I had studied sailing. I was skilled in my ways.
There would never be a better day.
I sailed from here to there.
After awhile, I had been almost everywhere.
Then, I finally sailed home.
I was back and all alone.
This beautiful woman was at my port.
She said “Nice boat. You must be a real sport.”
I told her everywhere I had been.
She said she wished she had gone then.
We got to talking, and before long,
we were having lunch and singing our song.
I invited her to go out on a short sail.
She accepted. She loved sailing, without fail.
In a couple months I realized I found it.
That prize. That pot of gold. I could quit.
I found what I was looking for.
It was here all along. Right at my door.
It was her, who is now my wife.
Looks like happy sailing for the rest of my life.

———————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

A Clown Apocalypse

There is a war coming our way.
No, it is not a zombie apocalypse.
It is clowns,—– clowns I say.
They are kicking ass & taking no lip.
Have you read Stephen King’s “It?”
These clowns are way worse than that.
These clowns will not take any s—t.
They may be clowns from hell and back.
No one knows where they come from.
When your worst nightmare attacks,
don’t worry about, ‘How did they come?’
Not funny. They are vicious and deadly.
They will rip you up, roll you in a bun.
Add catsup & mustard & they are ready.
You will be a meal for one.
What can we do to stop such a horror?
That question has puzzled many.
Best way is yell “What a bore!!”
This will upset them plenty.
Deep down inside they are still clowns.
True, clowns that have gone ‘bad.’
They want the attention that abounds.
To think they aren’t the star is sad.
Soon, they go bonkers & do themselves in.
A bad review does it every time.
It takes nerve, but this is the way we win.
A world without ‘bad’ clowns is just fine.

—————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

The Best Laid Plans Danced Away

The time was approaching for the weekly dance.
I had a date.—– I finally took a chance.
Soon, we were there, out on the floor.
We had the moves. Everyone yelling for more.
Moving in & moving out. Dancing toe to toe.
While everyone around was yelling ‘Go man go!!’.
The sweat was popping out of my head.
My feet were getting tired, feeling like lead.
Finally, we had the chance to dance slowly.
She snuggled right up to me, fully.
After a couple slow ones, it got fast again.
I would show her she was more than a friend.
I started with the ‘Dirty Dancing’ grind.
She was moving well. She didn’t seem to mind.
Belly to belly. Belly to back.
Better than making love in a Cadillac.
Everyone stopped just to watch us go.
It seems we were really stealing the show.
I said “It’s hot in here. Let’s go outside.”
She said “Keep on dancing. Right by my side.”
I said “Let’s stop and get a drink.”
She said “Drink, drink, drink, oh fiddly dink.”
“I can dance with a drink in my hand.”
She didn’t want to stop. Neither did the band.
Seems I started something I can’t stop.
I felt like stopping, right on the spot.
But, this girl was ‘hot’, in more ways than one.
Later, I wanted to have another type of fun.
I thought, maybe, I could fake a fall.
A ‘sprained ankle’ would end it all.
Then, I figured she would find another.
Nope, I had to keep on dancing. Help me mother.
We danced till I thought I couldn’t dance no more.
Finally, the time came to go out the door.
It turned out she was too tired for anything but bed.
So was I when all was done and said.

——————————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)