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Brian Johnston Poem
I really have outdone myself this time!
My ‘God Machine’ is finally in place!
I’ll never have to fret about a rhyme,
Or stop for a red light that changed from green
As if it sought to put me in my place
A random hiccup clearly quite obscene.
I really am quite clever I must say
My ‘subtle knife’ (1) allowing me to splice
My ‘God Machine’ into time’s tawdry day
The true God left completely unaware
That He is now controlled by my device
And just another victim of malware.
It seems there’s quite a lot that ‘God’ screwed up
That I intend to change now I’m in charge
I think that its bad form to cover-up!
So what’s the deal with dying anyway?
Let no one die will be my countercharge
And life is just a breeze on my freeway!
All pain mere nuisance, manna heaven sent
And sin gives you enormous facial zits
While love and kindness clear up all your rent.
Though talents differ, jealousies dissolve
As differences bring none real benefits
And non-destructive social moves evolve.
All birth defects, parental wealth passé
Genetic weakness gone with dodo bird
No accident of birth gives worth per se
Sins of the parent cannot taint the child
That God might favor one is just absurd
The color of one’s skin no more reviled.
But now I find my plans have gone awry
My God Machine decided I’m a flaw
It seems that I’m outdated samurai
Humanity endangering MY plan
Just plankton in the future’s yawning maw
Machine judged only advocate for man! (2)
Brian Johnston
November 5, 2014
Poet's Notes:
(1) subtle knife - A reference to a magical knife that can open windows in time in one of the 3 books in the Phillip Pullman trilogy 'His Dark Materials' including The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass.
(2) My poetic version of the lesson of the book and movie 2001 (written by Stanley Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke) where HAL, a computer so smart that it becomes sentient, decides that that only way to really protect a manned mission of a spaceship to the planet Jupiter is to kill all the humans on board the spaceship. The crew's humanity HAL decides is just too big a risk to the mission that HAL is charged (by its human programmers) to protect.
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2014
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Brian Johnston Poem
The “existence of God” can’t be proven by Science.
Since man’s reasoning seems to run God off the rails.
There’s the alternate view that “the world just exists,”
But whatever your take, devil lives in details.
How can God truly be the creator of all
Without Nature revealing the heart of His plan?
That the Bible purports to do so still requires
The insertion of petrified pride born of man.
That God is the “I Am,” that the “Universe Is,”
These are models of truth and they both could be true,
Or they both could be false, both ideas simply thoughts
And what God sees as truth simply not clear to you.
Even Bible tells us Christ is model of Him,
Simply meant to help man get a sense of our God,
With a Nature that always shows love to a child
And God’s Grace to adult more deserving of rod!
But the value of model lies hidden in truth
That’s revealed when we follow the logical path
Of its leading, no quarter be given or asked,
Any fool see the truth if he follows the math.
It would seem then God’s best known by studying Christ
And the universe best known by studying stars
Just by light do we fathom it even has bounds,
Where Christ’s words are the fodder of tough seminars.
There’s no doubt that both Christ’s words and stars do exist.
Who’s to say equal traction of both is involved.
Are Christ’s words really just as the Bible reports?
And do stars really shine as we think they’ve evolved?
But can universe be source of Christ, much less God?
To my mind, simply does not compute that it could
But a God might explain everything that we see
And yet God that is real doesn’t mean that He would.
So though logic seems clearly not helpful to choose,
If believing in God brings you peace in the night,
If an uncaring universe means there’s no judge,
There’s no “Reason” I see not to trust your insight.
Seems to me these two models are locked in a draw
If, emotion is always swept under the rug,
The most human of aspects dismissed like a dream,
Oh, how wretched the day we must go without hug.
I am tempted to itemize blessings of life
And compare them to universe born without mind,
Like the blessing that Science Truth even exists,
And the miracle those who seek frequently find.
Universally true that we could have lucked out,
Maybe God who created us just doesn’t care?
But if lessons hurt still we are able to learn.
And if God doesn’t love us then why would He share?
Perhaps Nature itself demonstrates God exists
Though we know for a fact that man’s flesh soon will die,
If creation is born of a God that persists
What's the evidence proving man’s soul is a lie?
Both the Christian and Atheist live lives of faith
If you’re tempted to suggest soul concept's puerile
Let me posit that neither can prove other wrong,
And then challenge your evidence our death is real!
Brian Johnston
September 22, 2015
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2015
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Brian Johnston Poem
You Know Who You Are!
I know that you probably know who you are...
Abusers who prey on women (or men) .
Your aberrance mostly extends to the weak,
Your generosity just serves other's pain
And, of course, their misery's your only gain.
Do not think that you'll find me turning my cheek
For doing so would just encourage your sin.
I'd rather see you in a specimen jar,
Or displayed on corkboard impaled with a pin,
Some place where your psyche has no powr' to mar.
Some say that it's likely that you were abused,
The sins of the parents passed on as it were,
God forgive me, if you're not really liable,
But your friendship's not the company I seek
God grant you don't find fellowship with the meek
And your progeny all be un-viable.
It's not that I curse you, but I would deter
Your excess on innocents already bruised,
My prayer's not for you but for those you injure,
God forgives but your deeds cannot be excused.
To see people like you removed from the earth
Would most certainly fill up my cup of mirth!
Brian Johnston
January 12,2014
___________________
The Wages of Sin
The bush in which you hide
Reveals your cowardice,
The wall, behind which you speak,
Testifies against you,
The seed which you so blithely sow,
Grows bitter fruit that does not nourish
Or weeds that suck soil dry
So that good seed barely feeds the birds,
Does not take root,
Imagination insufficient,
To wet the soil.
Bad intentions blow
What good soil there is
Across the sea to waiting deserts
More deserving in Africa,
The rocks left behind,
Only bruise your feet.
Brian Johnston
Sept.23,2014
____________________
The Troll
‘An interesting guy I think, '
People might say on meeting you for the first time,
Oh yes, I've come to know you too well.
Thank God for the Internet,
Although there are bodies in your wake,
And stench follows you like a garbage scow
There is protection for many in distance from,
In the miles of wire, the waves of wireless
Communication, and so like a deer
Caught in the headlight of your amazing ego,
[Fashioned by the fires of Hell (like Gollum's ring)
And as empty as the devil's soul],
They stand frozen for a moment,
Throwing it off finally, the vision of their own death
Shaking their heads in wonder, ‘What just happened? '
It's like the first lesson your mother tries to teach,
‘Be careful who you choose as a friend, '
A cautionary tale for adults too.
‘Fire does burn' even when you reach adulthood,
All that sparkles is not gold, my friend,
And a ‘nom de plume' like Talvia Sprinkles,
Just one more bush the troll hides in.
Sometimes that strange feeling that you have
Is actually another human? being? peeing on your soul
The golden shower they offer, however,
Does not assuage your guilt (which is real, so what?)
You've just been sold a bill of goods,
Dr. Killdeers Magic Elixir, a not so benign fixer.
If you have been in this dark place of the soul
And saved by Satan not in fact being God,
Then rejoice my friend in God's provision
In youth or childhood, you did something good?
Do more, bear witness of your weakness to others,
Not to mortify your own flesh (God knows you're sorry)
But so that those with ears to hear (also God's gift)
Perchance will themselves not feel so alone.
Remember that half-truths strung together like pearls
Are still sh**, if you'll pardon the expression.
‘If it sounds to good to be true it isn't, '
Remember only God knows your soul,
Satan is just a very experienced guesser
And revels in our penchant to deny our own sin.
His wisdom does not serve the greater good.
Do not look for truth among the cold stones
Of the temple that once stood at Delphi either,
Or trust any oracle that does not bend his knee
To the living God, the creator of us all.
It is your life, it is your responsibility,
Don't parrot Cesar's surprised last words
As a ‘friend' slipped his knife into Cesar's heart,
‘Et tu, Brute? ' You have been warned!
Brian Johnston
September 26,2014
Poet's Notes are listed separately because of space limitations on Poetry Soup. Sorry for the inconvenience. I hope that you will take the time to read them.
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2014
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Brian Johnston Poem
Let me show you your own death,
Night can fall in many ways,
Every time a friend betrays,
Love has one foot in the grave,
Voices rush to call you knave.
When you can't catch your own breath,
Cold-cocked by traitorous smile,
Lying sweetly all the while,
Whore to all that came before,
Lamb's blood now scrubbed from your door.
Tells you that YOU did the deed,
All the hurts you never knew,
Suddenly burst into view,
Love's sweet light now going pale
'Victim's curses' soul assail.
Withholds that at last are freed,
Silent lies dressed now as truth,
Venom spoken without ruth,
Your love now is shaken cold,
Burden more than heart can hold.
Clothed in naught but righteousness,
All withholds become your sin,
Vengeance poured on world of men,
Moderation disavowed,
Scales of justice truly cowed.
Souls so stained by callousness,
Only God has strength to mend,
Danger there for simple friend,
Branded! Yes, by love's bright flame,
With God's help forget the name.
Brian Johnston
Sept.06, 2014
Poet's Notes:
Sometimes innocents are caught up in satanic whirlwinds that blind them to what friendship really looks like and what is required of a friend. Dear friend still, former friend I still believe to me, I will always pray for your soul. May God open your eyes to who your real friends are! Live well and prosper, but short of a miracle, I will not be by your side! New friends, who are easier to love, it seems are everywhere!
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2014
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Brian Johnston Poem
love shines in freedom
lives blossom in commitment
concrete images
Brian Johnston
May 1, 2016
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2016
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Brian Johnston Poem
In poetry’s fond verse we save
All matters of the heart,
Our thoughts that may be sweet or grave,
With which we’d hate to part.
Our fears of what may come to pass,
Our sadness at what has,
The desperate state of pain's impasse,
A human Alcatraz.
The lessons that pain teaches us,
Road signs, in fact to joy,
Our God’s reforming animus,
Love’s armor for schoolboy.
Remembering that pain serves man,
Is always hard to do,
Puts limits on outrageous plan,
Helps vanity subdue.
Our owning of the father God,
The highest we can reach,
Releasing our own dreams slipshod
For what He has to teach.
Brian Johnston
December 18, 2014
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2014
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Brian Johnston Poem
A Joint Poem by Brian Johnston and Abekah Emmanuel
She said:
Did you really understand what I just said?
He said:
If I didn't understand my misunderstanding was so complete that I did not understand that I did not understand!
She said:
Amusingly amazing misunderstanding!
He said:
So you understand my confusion? I am so glad that someone does! You know dear this could be a poem. It clears up so many things!
Aside to reader:
And might even contribute to my getting some... peace that is, a little later on. [Wink, Wink]
Brian Johnston
May 24, 2015
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2015
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Brian Johnston Poem
clouds eclipse the sun
my shadow plays hide and seek
on daisy filled dell
Brian Johnston
April 27, 2016
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2016
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Brian Johnston Poem
Really, only five years have past
Since your son’s abandoned car was found,
No note,
Along side sea cliffs
North of Santa Cruz,
After failing with pills,
Too many times.
No body either,
Though at times I prayed for that.
Wincing now myself at your pain
As you hand beggars at streetlights
A few dollars, as you pray, heart broken,
Some empathetic soul is doing the same
For your son, should he still be alive,
Watching your head turn wistfully to search the face
Of distant beggars on the wrong side of the street,
Both of us feeling in our hearts that he is gone.
Rested, before dawn breaks,
I close the distance night has sanctioned,
Move closer,
Take you in my arms
Feel tension release
As sleep finds its meter,
Breath its rhyme.
The body’s warmth
Giving dreams new assurance.
The sweet sound of your sleeping
Now informs my answered prayer
Deft moves that fluff me into compliance
Help me to trust some needs at least are met,
My own sleep, pulls on my sleeve like a child,
As watchful still, I succumb to warmth of your heart,
That even in its half-full, depleted state,
Still has the power to make my sun rise.
Brian Johnston
December 5, 2015
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2015
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Brian Johnston Poem
A new patron crawled into a bar,
Surprised all that he made it that far,
He said 'I really think,
I should have a quick drink,
Or no way I’ll get back to my car.'
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2015
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