Poetry
and Prose by JJ Johnson
Chapter 8: Broken Bonds
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Chapter
8: Broken
Bonds
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“Drive Home” was
inspired by several events that have occurred during the course of my lifetime.
I've lost a few friends over the years from drunk driving crashes and wanted to
say something about it, but found it very hard to write about dead friends. So I
wrote something general that expressed my feelings without being too personal.
My thoughts were drawn to a friend of mine who was killed by a drunk driver
while he was riding his bike. It was a hit and run and his brother found him
lying on the side of the road shortly after the car had killed him. Richard was
a good kid and a great friend, we had some fun times together and nearly 30
years later I still miss him. The poem is not specifically about him or any
other person, it just reflects how I feel about those who make the choice to
drink, knowing there is a car waiting to take them down that dangerous road when
they decide it’s time to leave.
Driving
drunk was something I never did myself, as I didn’t get my driver’s license
until after I gave up drinking. But was foolish enough to get in the car with
friends who did drive drunk on many occasions. I consider myself incredibly
fortunate that we never got into an accident. That’s the thing that makes it
all the worse for some people. After you do something once and it doesn’t turn
out bad, it gets easier to make that choice. I think it’s a good thing I gave
up drinking before I got my drivers license, I might not have continued to be so
fortunate. I’d like to believe that I would never be so stupid as to get
behind the wheel of a car while under the influence, but I also would like to
have believed that about my friends who have died from being so foolish.
I haven’t been drunk since
January 1st, 1984, and I thought you had to be an alcoholic to remember that
sort of thing. I remember because I got incredibly sick and spent the night
kneeling before the porcelain potty. Two hours after there wasn’t anything
left in me to come back out, I was still kneeling there wondering when the
convulsions were going to stop. That was enough for me, kind of like the first
and last time I tried smoking a cigarette. It was the nastiest tasting thing I
ever tried, and I coughed so much from the only puff I took, that I decided
there was absolutely no reason to ever do that again. I am not immune to peer
pressure, but some things are just so repulsive that no amount of friendship is
going to coerce me to try it again, let alone make a habit out of it.
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Drive
Home
Drive Home
Johnny won't you drive on home?
And when you’re on your way away from here
Why don't you tilt back and down a beer?
Drive Home!
Drive home
Johnny don't you drive alone
There is no need to fear what you can't see
So relax and have a beer on me.
Drive Home!
Drive home
Johnny got your friend all stoned
He says "Beware of that telephone pole”
The faster you speed the more heads will role.
Drive Home!
Drive home
Johnny you won't make it home
A fair price to pay is the fate you'll share
Tonight’s the night you're gonna lose your hair.
Drive Home!
Drive Home
Johnnies mother's on the phone
Johnnies friend won't be sleeping in his bed
It rolled so far they haven't found his head.
Fly Home!
Fly Home
Johnny sings the jailbird moan
You felt lucky cause you survived the ride
But locked in your cell you can't run and hide.
You're Home!
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Turning twenty was a turning
point in my life in so many way. Unfortunately, most of the ways my life was
changing were not for the better. One thing that was happening was that my dog
was dying from cancerous tumors. It had me reflecting on life in general. I was
depressed about several things, but losing Max was the hardest thing of all. He
was my best friend while I was growing up and was always there when I needed
someone to hug when I was feeling down.
While he was in his last few
months of life, his condition got worse with each passing day. His cries were
like knives being driven into my heart. I knew I had to let him go and I am sure
he knew that there was only one place where he could find peace. Max was the
smartest dog I have ever known, so when I say he knew, I mean that he was
completely aware that he was going to die and his cries were his way of telling
me he wanted to die. That was the hardest thing to accept. Letting him go was
also letting go of my selfishness. There was no reason to make him suffer in the
last days of life.
Max lived a wonderful life,
gave all of us his absolute, unconditional love and never did a bad thing in his
entire life. From the moment he followed my brother home, and came back to us
after being returned to his first family, he knew where he wanted to be. There
was no question in his mind, or ours for that matter, that he had made a choice
he would never go back on. And he never did. My dad brought him back a second
time and he was already sitting on the front porch before he got back home. The
other family decided we could keep him since there didn’t seem to be any way
to get him to stay there anyway. They had him chained up in their ally-way, not
a very good place for any animal. He broke the chain three times to escape and
he must have sensed that we were the kind of people who would always take care
of him.
I can’t possibly give
examples of all the things Max did that were above and beyond the ability of
normal dogs, and I don’t really feel the need to. I have my cherished memories
with him, as the rest of my family does also. But when paying tribute to
Maximillion Johnson, let it be known that he was everything a dog could ever be
to a family and to me as a boy growing up who needed his love as much as he
needed all of ours. I hope dogs go to Heaven because if there ever was one who
deserved to go there, it was Max! __________________________________________________ Even
The Best Of Us
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Just
down the street from the house I grew up in was the Prospect Hill Cemetery. It
was a huge sprawling place with numerous hills and trees. Most of the time it
was very quiet there and it was a great place to go hang around in without
having anyone bother you when you wanted to be alone. It was also a great place
to play with friends because there were hardly ever any cars in it and it was so
big that various groups of people could be doing things in different areas and
not even know the others were there. In the winter, the hills made great places
to sleigh ride down. The main hill had a bump near the bottom that would send
you flying through the air if you caught it at a good speed.
I
always enjoyed going there and finding peace when I needed to get away.
After we moved to Schenectady, I would often go back to Gloversville and visit friends there. And I also made a point of visiting the cemetery just to take a walk around and recall some fond memories. So many things happened there down through the years, mostly good, but a few bad things too. Still, it was my sanctuary where I could free my mind of whatever weighed heavily on it. After John Lennon was killed, the day they held silent vigils for him all around the world, I went to my favorite spot in the cemetery and help my own peaceful vigil. I could have gone to Central Park in Schenectady to be with hundreds of others who had gathered there, but I wanted to be alone and have my thoughts clear and pure for a man I didn’t know, but loved and grieved for.
This
Quiet Cemetery
Created
On: 09/09/1998
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Sometimes a dream is just a dream, but sometimes the things happening around you while you sleep, creep into your subconscious. The imagery of dreams is as colorful as any in poetry, even if you only dream in black and white. The mysterious banging that echoes in your dreams is not necessarily a ghost, it could be something from the real world trying to break in.
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A
Ghost At My Door
Created On: 03/18/2003
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Soul Silhouette was written for a former friend who always acted like everyone
around him owed him something. It wasn’t something you knew at first, it built
up over time. His friendships were based on materialistic things and what people
were willing to give him at any given moment. I don’t know how I put u with
him for as long as I did, but he managed to get himself fired from his job,
where I also worked, for similar problems with the boss. Some people never
learn.
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Soul
Silhouette
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“Where
Are You Going? I've Seen Where You've Been!” was
formed from a
conglomeration of inspirations. To begin with, my girlfriend sent me a letter on
the day of my mid-term exams at college, telling me she was leaving me for
another guy, who she later left for a girl. Around that time, in Literature
class, we had read the short story, "Where Are You Going, Where Have You
Been?", by Joyce Carol Oats, which she said had been inspired by the song
"It's All Over Now, Baby
Blue", by Bob Dylan. I took some inspiration from both and also Dylan's
"Like A Rolling Stone", combined with my anger and wrote the poem.
After
failing my exams that day I started cutting classes and losing all interest in
college and life in general. By the end of the year my grades and attendance
made my decision to drop out of college mute, as I was given the boot without
having to so much as tell anyone I wasn’t planning to return. The one class I
kept going to until the end of the semester was English, however. It’s funny
that the one class I hated throughout my school years would become the one I
loved in college. I even managed to fail English in my senior year in high
school and had to attend Summer School to get my diploma, which is funnier still
because I now work as a Teacher’s Aide in English in the very same high school
I failed the class in. You just never know where you are going, even if you’ve
already been there.
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Where
Are You Going? I've Seen Where You've Been!
Where are you going and where have you been?
You've learned nothing at all from all that you've seen
You don't care who you hurt, you don't know what love means
Ain't it funny how life never is as it seems?
You've been hurt and now you ignore the pain
So many times you think you're going insane
There's no way to stop it now, no end to your game
And one day you'll know there's no one else you can blame
With all of your lies and the way that you flew
It's hard to believe you're the girl that I knew
With the life that you've led and with all you've been through
Did you ever wonder what'll become of you?
My fine feathered lover, watch out, beware
Your flight path is less a circle than a square
You've turned all the sharpest corners and cut them all clean
Tell me, where are you going and where have you been?
You used to be such an innocent girl
Your beauty once shined like the whitest of pearls
You love to get sun-tanned while laying on the lawn
But now it is raining and your color's all gone
You'll find yourself living out in the street
Then a pimp will find you and you'll kiss his feet
He'll use you and sell you till you're no good anymore
Then you'll realize what you've become is a whore
Where are you going? I've seen where you've been
Now you've spread your legs and let them all in
Do you know what you're doing? I think it's a sin
But you'll keep on doing it again and again
You dance around like a sweet high class queen
You're sleeping habits are completely obscene
Burning your sheets has become a daily routine
I wonder where you're going, I've seen where you've been
There is a Moody Blues song called “Have You Heard” that often comes to mind when I fall in love. The imagery of life’s hallways and doorways is one that I relate well to. Doorways are always opening and closing as we make choices, and so it is with love. We decide to commit to a relationship and we close the door behind us so others will not intrude on our intimate moments and create obstacles that could bring it all to an end. When you fall in love, you want to shout it out to the whole world and make sure your friends hear you, that they know the word has found you with all four of it’s unshakable letters. At least it’s unshakable until the next tremor of the heart shakes the foundations of love.
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A
Door Too Close To Closed To Adore You
Created
05/11/2005
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Love is like a rainbow. It
is most beautiful at its peak, but anyone who has ever chased a rainbow knows,
it always vanishes before you get to the point where it ends. And the way love
begins, you could be standing right there and not notice where it sprang up
from, so by the time you see the arc up in the sky, you’re too far away to get
back to the beginning and find the pot of gold it rose up out of.
Love
blinds us from seeing the cracks in its foundation, so when it comes crashing
down, all that can be found is a pile of fools gold, leaving us to wonder if it
was ever real at all.
At
The End Of Every Rainbow
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There
was this woman I knew, we were more or less friends, but more like regularly
scheduled acquaintances than true friends. She was always dating one guy or
another, and often another guy at the same time. Her relationships were always
very tumultuous as chaos was the rule in her life. Whenever she would break up
with one of her boyfriends, she would come crying to me with her story of whoa
and ask me what to do. I would usually tell her the first thing to do is to stop
seeing more than one guy at a time. But she said she needed to have another guy
to help her through the lonely nights and she didn’t want it to be someone she
would be attached to. Hell, I coulda done that for her. I doubt she would have
though, it would have changed the dynamics between us and she was not about to
settle down. I’m sure I would have wound up with a broken heart and obsessing
over her for years afterwards. It would have been one hell of a ship wreck
though!
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Eye
Of The Pirate, Heart Of A Thief
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I
met this very lovely little Wiccan woman who seemed to be under the impression I
was a Warlock or god of some sort. She was very odd, dressed in a suite when she
went to work but otherwise always wore these white robes that looked more like
curtains that belonged in my kitchen window. She wore no underwear and the
material was very thin which is I think why I was so attracted to her in the
first place. When she left the house she would put on an overcoat that looked
like it was an old Army surplus coat from World War II. It definitely didn’t
go with the curtains, er-ah, I mean robes. When she had friends over to her
house, she would put on these very odd looking purple and yellow strips of silk
cloth that hung over her breasts and waste so as not to be exposed to them, but
she never put them on when we were alone.
We
did not have a sexual relationship, but it was very clear to me she wanted one.
There were enough seductive poses being flashed before my eyes to make her
highly desirable at any given moment. Then I found out through a mutual friend
that she wanted me because she thought I was some sort of chosen one who she was
supposed to mate with to have a child that would be a very powerful warlock.
Well, this was just a little too weird for me, so I decided it was time to check
out of the Mistress Bates motel.
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Sometimes
Wishes Come True
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What happened to this poem? “What Happened To Us” was originally part
of a poem called “See Through Inner Eyes” but the stanzas didn’t seem to
fit together and I had two different concepts for where I wanted the poem to go,
so I separated the parts that seemed to fit together the best and set aside the
stanzas that I would later add more to, for a couple of months. “See Through
Inner Eyes” would become more of a philosophical piece, with more
introspection than it may appear on the surface, but the other pieces were not
really clear to me what I would do with them. That is, not until I had a very
brief liaison with a woman I had just met.
Another
poem called “Miss E. Roddick”, which will be in my next book, more closely
describes the events that never should have happened, but I used that experience
to complete this poem. It is an unusual poem for me because I normally write
about the comings and goings I experience in a more realistic manner, but since
I had those other stanzas already laying around doing nothing, and I had just
completed the “Miss E. Roddick” poem, I decided I might as well write
something and see what happens. When reading this, it feels more like a song
lyric than a poem, so it just might become a song one day. Though I started
writing it originally on October 26th the final work wasn’t done until
December 22nd of 1989.
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What
Happened To Us?
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To view excerpts* from other chapters, click each Chapter Title below
Each Chapter excerpt presented on-line contains two poems and prose from that chapter.*
Information on purchasing this book can be found below the index.
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Seeds & Weeds main page: Seeds & Weeds index
(click link)__________________________________________________
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Chapter 1: Pride & Prejudice* (click Chapter Title for excerpts*)
1: Pride Is One Seed
2: Seeds & Weeds - (prose)
3: 3 Seeds ** (on
main index page)4: 4th Independence
5: Matthew 5:5
6: Knot In The Loop
7: Segregation *
8: Separation *
9: Where Will You Aim Your Hate?
10: NYS OCFS Graduation Speech, Parker Training Academy, 12/10/99 *
11: The Boyz At Tryon
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Chapter 2: Power & Peace*(click Chapter Title for excerpts*)
12: 1000 Keys *
13: Pay For The War *
14: Like Father, Like Son
15: Pride Blinds Biased Eyes
16: Nation's Pledge
17: Empty Arms And Burning Flags
18: Stars And Stripes
19: There's More Than One Way
20: Rush To Judgment - Judgment To Rush
21: God's Children / One Family We Are
22: Do Not Die For Me
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Chapter 3: Faith: Search Within & Beyond* (click Chapter Title for excerpts*)
23: Great Unknown *
24: Pass On True Freedom
25: A Question Of Faith
26: Have You Heard?
27: Faith In What I Don't Believe
28: Unwilling To Let Go
29: This Dream I Dreamt Last Night
30: The One On My Shoulder - Never Succumb
31: No End To The Flesh
32: Invisible Light
33: Touch *
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Chapter 4: Dysfunctionality & Family* (click Chapter Title for excerpts*)
34: Ro-Ro Rows Her Boat *
35: Quarter-Life Crisis
36: The Family Way
37: Within Me - Beyond Me *
38: The Task Undone
39: A Ray Of Sun From A Pot Of Gold
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Chapter 5: Introspection* (click Chapter Title for excerpts*)
40: Life Is An Ocean *
41: Self Portrait
42: Forgive Not Forget
43: Two Faced
44: Constant & Changing
45: Walls And Bridges
46: Desire To Fly
47: The Man I Am No One Else Knows
48: Blind To The Me Others See
49: Stock Room Blues
50: But Does God Trust in US?
51: Struggle Against Success
52: Every Eden Has It's Apples
53: See Through Inner Eyes
54: I Am
55: Under The Bridge *
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Chapters 6: Mother Natures Sun* (click Chapter Title for excerpts*)
56: He Who Laughs Last Will Be A Fertile, Mutant Cockroach *
57: Sleep (Hiding From The Touch Of Death)
58: Leaves
59: Inner Eclipse
60: Full Womb Crescent Moon
61: Moon & River *
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Chapters 7: State Of The Artrocity* (click Chapter Title for excerpts*)
62: Death Of A Virgin *
63: Artificial Artists (State Of The Art)
64: Artificial Artists (X-Reprise) *
65: Tragedy
66: Artists Are Lonely
67: Where Is My Muse?
68: Philosophy Therefore Poetry
69: A Test
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Chapter 9: Loose Ends*(click Chapter Title for excerpts*)
81: Big Hair
82: Across The Miles
83: Hidden Alterations
84: Unspoken Thirst
85: Daylight’s Darkness
86: Two Color Souls One Color
87: Someone's Drowning In Your Pool *
88: Aisumasen Renee *
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ISBN # 1-4196-3309-0
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Copyright
© 2006 Joseph F Johnson
All rights reserved.
No
part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any manner or form without
written permission from the author.
Printed
in the United States of America.
Portions
of this book © 2004
US
Copyright Office Registration
TXu1-162-978
ISBN
1-4196-3309-0
Publisher:
BOOKSURGE an
Amazon.com Company
5341
Dorchester Road, Suite 16
Charleston,
SC 29418 USA
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Seeds And Weeds is a philosophically expressive compilation of poetry and prose from the heart of JJ Johnson. Offering his feelings on politics, faith, family, introspection, nature, friendship and fate, to poetry itself, Seeds and Weeds is more than simply a collection of verse with splashes of imagery. It reflects the spirit of a caring man who proclaims, “Nice guys don’t finish last, we just want to be sure no one gets left behind”. The poems in this compilation could not be conjured from the casual observations on life that some would accept as fine poetry. These poems are more; they are the raw emotions expressed in words that have been inspired by a lifetime of experiences. Written in the moment of these events, the poetry here is sometimes harsh, but always honest while digging deeply into the essence of poetic creation.
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Seeds And Weeds purchasing info
Publishing of this book is through BookSurge, an Amazon.com company.
click the cover banner above
ISBN # 1-4196-3309-0
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