Fantasy – Page 24 – Word Smith Wisdom

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)

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)

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 Sex Diet

I was hungry all the time.
Not for food, but to make you mine.
I craved you more than a hot fudge Sunday.
I could eat you up. You’re just as yummy.

Then things changed. We got together.
I thought things would be better.
I had all of you I wanted.
Seconds and thirds. I wasn’t taunted.

Time went by, like it always does.
I wasn’t so happy. Just because.
Have you ever bit off more than you could chew?
I think that happened with me and you.

We both needed to go on a diet.
So we abstained. Just try it.
On rare occasions we gave in.
Just a little. It wasn’t a sin.

Let me tell you, it was out of this world.
Absence made our desires whirl.
We reached levels of ecstasy we couldn’t believe.
Such pleasure is hard to achieve.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
We found this true. We didn’t flounder.
Now we diet with anticipation.
For the occasional slip, or vacation.

Our ‘diet’ has motivated us.
We are closer than dirt is to dust.
We recommend it to others, if it fits.
But, never, never call it quits.

————————————R. W. Johnson—–(2016)

Camdon: The Place To Be

The city is a busy place.
Filled with people of every race.
There is crime and pollution too.
But, there is also love for you.