Tragedy – Page 10 – Word Smith Wisdom

Words Of Advice

It will come back on you.
Like an onion in a Polish stew.
Acting like a PITA is not right.
It’s a good way to start a fight.
Treat others as they treat you.
Very nice, like they should do.
Acting out and carrying on.
Constantly, from dusk till dawn.
It’s enough to piss off the Pope.
For you, it leaves little hope.
A ‘sweet baby’ complex is much better.
Follow that to the very letter.
You will make friends and influence people.
Be sure to throw in a little wink though.
You are beautiful from head to toes.
Act likewise and see how it goes.
Life will improve, if not for you,
for others who are affected too.
Give it a try. You’ve nothing to lose.
But, much to gain, if you choose.————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

PITA = Pain In The Ass

Adrift, And All Alone

Why did we go our different ways?
You said you missed me, I heard you say.
Yet, you didn’t come to get me.
I guess you wanted to be free.
Life isn’t right when you’re not around.
You keep me firmly anchored to the ground.
You’re someone I can cling to.
When I need guidance to make it through.
I hope you didn’t think I was needy.
Even though I wanted you to feed me.
I get carried away with flighty ideas.
You calm me, especially when people see us.
You are a beacon in a stormy sea.
I focus on you and I am free.
I am not adrift on any old current.
I feel grounded, even if you weren’t.
Someday, our paths may cross again.
I will always consider you a friend.
But, I feel we could be so much more.
If you only won’t walk out the door.

——————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Little Show Of Horrors

Blackbird singing in the dead of night.
Was he welcoming in the morning light?
I fear what’s coming in the light of day.
I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way.

She might cut me loose today.
Tell me to go my own way.
All that I did was just for her.
But, it didn’t turn out right, for sure.

I tried to make it all a surprise.
To see the love shining from her eyes.
It was shocking, to say the least.
Made me look like some kind of beast.

It was supposed to be a puppet show.
Relaxing, for someone on the go.
Instead, it became a show of horrors.
Left her running, screaming, for the door.

Curse that puppeteer and his ‘sick’ humor.
I heard he was ‘sick’, but thought it a rumor.
His price was fair, so, we went from there.
I didn’t think it would be such a scare.

Blackbird singing in the dark of night.
Don’t be singing about such a fright.
This could be the end of our love affair.
Yet, you sing like you don’t even care.

If you ever want to surprise your girl.
Don’t hire a ‘sick’ puppeteer to thrill.
For he may scare her with his show.
Leaving you lost, with nowhere to go.

——————————R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Destroyed By Time?

Could it be? It was all so simple then.
Could time have rewritten every line?
You and I, together until the end.
A life much sweeter than wine.

Just misty, water colored memories.
All that’s left of the way we were.
Something changed. Better remedies?
No,— only pain and tragedy did occur.

Something changed in the whisper of time.
I will never hold you and love you again.
The memories have become a living shrine.
A symbol of what might have been.

Karma has reversed its course on me.
It must be a wheel within a wheel.
Things are not the way they used to be.
I can no longer stay on an even keel.

Turn back time and let’s try it again.
There has got to be a better way for us.
But then, I wouldn’t know where to begin?
I would fear for another total bust.

Oh emotions, why torture my heart?
Punishment for my choices in life.
It is the result that’s tearing me apart.
I cannot rise above the pain and strife.

What could have been and never was.
It is a loss that I cannot overcome.
I can dream of raising above.
While, in truth, you were the only one.

Put me down in the Book Of Tragedy’s.
An entire chapter to do me justice.
Explain how I still love you madly.
Then, destroy me. Leave me restless.

Screaming, with no way out.
A living horror, buried by emotions.
Straining to give my final shout!!
I LOVE YOU!!— I need a love potion.

—————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

R E S P E C T

You don’t need to wish upon a star.
You can see the future from where you are.
Just look deeply into my eyes.
It should come as no surprise.

Yes, it is coming true.
There is no future for me and you.
We have reached the end of our road.
Now, if I may be so bold.

The reason we are at an end.
Respect is a word you cannot bend.
Either you respect me, or you don’t.
From where I’m sitting, you won’t.

It is time to look for greener pastures.
One with much less hazards.
One where love will bloom freely.
Not here, where love is mealy.

So, find another who you will respect.
As for me, I say ‘What the heck.’
It’s not worth it to stick around.
Playing the part of your clown.

Wish upon that star if it helps.
Find yourself another whelp.
This doormat is outta here.
I need a snuggle rug to be near.

—————————-R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Pretty Little Horses

Life was easy and free.
That was life in 1953
That’s the life for you and me.
It’s the way that it should be.

See all the pretty little horses

There was a time when we could laugh.
Have loads of fun playing in the grass.
Riding our bikes everywhere.
Enjoying life without a care.

See all the pretty little horses.

That was back in 1957
It seemed almost like heaven.
Life was easy, & loads of fun.
Plenty of love for everyone.

See all the pretty little horses.

All those days have come and gone.
There is not much now to look upon.
No more longing in my eye.
It is enough to make one cry.

See all the pretty little horses.

So I look at the merry go round.
Faster and faster, it spins around.
All the pretty little horses flash by.
Like past memories, I think, with a sigh.

See all the pretty little horses.

Nothing left, but the horses to see.
Seems I’ve lost the best part of me.
Pretty little horses to carry on.
Beautiful memories, now all gone.

————————R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Freeway Shooters Beware

A typical day for me and you.
Ducking bullets as they fly through.
Take a drive on the freeway.
Always go armed. It might be today.
Someone will shoot at you.
But, mama didn’t raise a fool.
You are ready, armed to the teeth.
Your James Bond car is oh, so sweet.
Line them up and fire away.
This is how they want to play.
Rip them every way but loose.
Fire some rounds up their caboose.
Self defense is the name of the game.
Sorry, I didn’t get your name.
But, I sure as hell got your number.
Your car will need a plumber.
It is full of leeks and holes.
Looks like a soaker garden hose.
Think twice about who you shoot at.
They may be ready to come to bat.
They will knock a homer with your head.
Today, you should have stayed in bed.

—————————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)

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)

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)