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The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Years and years of construction,
houses, businesses, shiny skyscrapers,
an earth quake shakes the foundations,
poor designs equals mass destruction.

Islands populated to the max function,
nuclear power plants on the beach,
resorts, palm trees and pools,
tsunamis cause mass destruction.

Through mating rituals and seduction
Earth's population increase by factors of ten,
little nature still exists,
a comet erases with mass destruction.
The Fire Burns Sep 2016
Well the Josh Abbot Band sings Matagorda Bay
but I’m pretty sure it’s all the wrong way
should be I’ve been walking it all day
casting a shrimp or mullet along the way
whether the river, the surf or the bay
or even  the intercoastal waterway

You can never go wrong fishing here
from the bank, the beach, or even the pier
maybe spring, or maybe fall
you will always have a ball
with your dad, in laws or college friends
it always pays in dividends

Of reds, whiting, croaker and trout
usually followed by a cookout
sometimes black drum or maybe a ray
either way, make them pay all day
casting a squid or maybe a mullet
the fish always bite, take it and tug it

After dark on a green light
try as you might
you just can’t find a lure they won’t bite
when the tide changes and shrimp are running
two at a time is for what you are gunning
tired, and sore, but you are tough

All night long until enough is enough
then to bed for some shut eyed dreams
then up again, as the morning sun gleams
do it again, as it never lasts

Creating memories of the past
to share with friends
and also the kids
of Matagorda Bay
The Fire Burns Sep 2016
Enter room
Look around
There is a ring
on the ground

Pick it up
Pocket it
There is also
A rose to get

Go north
Into a room
A mirror is there
Reveals a groom

Go east  
and you find
A church full
The preacher minds

He says do you
She says yes
Suddenly you are
eaten by a grue
A bit of Zork humor
Me
The Fire Burns Sep 2016
Me
My fire burns
In love and words
Never to be quenched
Until at last
I am consumed
The Fire Burns Apr 2018
Sitting in a purple tree,
with leaves of orange and green
the black iguana sits carefrer,
and contemplates a curious scene.

Below him on the forest floor
a steady line of ants emerge,
green ones from a red oak door,
with no walls and no floor.

Key ants? He wonders not quite aloud,
He drops down to try and see,
He launches his tongue so pink and proud,
and cathes snts, not one, but three.

Expecting citrus, **** and sweet,
as razored bites makes them pop,
licorice, yuck that is no treat,
he wipes his tongue to make it stop.

The other ants laugh with Glee,
the iguana turns from black to red,
extensor claws appear and ants flee
to late a swping claw strkes them dead.
The Fire Burns May 2020
The medicinal burn inside my mouth,
I can feel it traveling down south,
a bit like fennel and tarragon,
licorice unctuous, I frown upon.

Perhaps, she was right as Disney,
full of music, magic, and whimsy,
a spoon full of sugar is what it needs,
a bit of *** punch would be fine with me.

But feeling better is the hope,
so I swallow, and try not to mope,
go back to bed, to sleep it off,
only to be awoken by the cough.

Pillow soaked, as fever breaks,
another dose its time to take,
4-hour cycles, I hope to end,
once my bodies on the mend.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Apparitions floating,
in a saline sea,
glowing hyper-color,
simply adrift and free.

Armed tentacles,
search and reach and twist,
seeking out a meal,
to **** with nematocysts.

Dangerous beauty,
floating free,
somewhere in,
the deep blue sea.
Jelly Fish
The Fire Burns Oct 2016
Stand as you will
with my sly smile
and deft touch
I will melt your heart

A love on the rocks
Finally ends
Maybe then
The heart can mend
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Freedom paid for with lives and blood,
boots on the ground all around the world,
landing craft beaching on foreign shores,
as bullets, whizz by and bombs explode.

Aircraft were flown, in all manner of skies,
ready to act at a crackle of the radio,
the black depths patrolled by submariners,
watching and listening with tools of sound.

Floating on the surface of the worlds waters,
gun metal gray monsters loaded for bear,
the sailors pride evident in the gleam,
inspiring respect, and fear.

From out of planes they bail,
carrying everything they need,
landing behind and among the enemy,
this is where heroes are born.

Uniforms shined and polished
medals pinned upon proud chests,
tears fall down everyone's cheeks,
as flags are draped and salutes fired.

Freedom purchased with brave lives,
still, some must soldier on,
remember and respect,
the ones in uniform.
May 30.  © Jed Johnson, All rights reserved
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Spring flowers can be pressed
and stored in perpetuity,
collected for perusal
every year.

Summers trips to the beach
gathered memories with seashells
and vials of sand
a beach always in reach.

Falls leaves and color
gathered and trapped under
clear epoxy, a paper weight,
to hold down notes against the wind.

Winters beauty is fleeting,
the white blanket of snow and ice,
can never be collected,
it simply melts away.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
In your eyes of aquamarine,
as I stare deep into them,
I am transported, to warm beaches,
gentle waves, and swaying palms.

Your breath on my neck,
reminds me of cruise ship afternoons,
as the gulf wind blows across our deck,
out on the balcony of our stateroom.

Your bare skin, bronzed in the sun,
except in the covered places,
takes me to the pool,
with blazing sun reflections.

The feel of your fingers
slowly crawling across my chest
takes me to Cozumel,
caressing each other in clear blue water.

The taste of your kiss,
sweet as can be,
takes me to our wedding day,
I do's at the lake side.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Long piles of scallop and small sea shells
Searching sharks teeth between the swells
a newer place today, different back then
I reminisce and I begin to grin

Summer fun on an islands beach,
Its namesake takes a plane to reach,
from cities north, drive 45 to the south,
until you run out of road, at the gulfs mouth.

61st street, turn to the right,
sparkling waves, at midday, is bright,
A giant crab, with an Italian name,
a fixture for years, it remains the same.

Memories made through the summers of youth,
family reunions, we met as a group,
The water is muddy, but it was always fun,
soaking up the Texas summer sun.
Can anybody Guess where I am talking about
The Fire Burns Apr 2018
Ensconced on memories wall,
a vision wrapped in a bikini,
pink, blue and red stripes,
on top of summer bronzed skin.

The beige gold sand,
burns my feet even now,
the smell of coconut oil,
washes over my nose.

Her red hair burns me,
like the first sunburn of spring,
blowing in the wind,
of my remembered past.
The Fire Burns Apr 2018
On the shores of farm ponds,
and at the edges of lakes,
this is where my memory,
frequently does it take,

Fishing rod in hand,
I walk behind my dad,
casting out for bass,
none of this is sad.

Prowling through the mud,
throwing rocks and catching fish,
if only I could go back here,
sometimes do I wish.

So instead I grab the phone,
and give my dad a call,
tell him dates of the fishing trip,
we take together every fall.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
The hatch slides across turquoise waters
hungry eyes watch from underneath
a swishing tail and a surface explosion
causes a flight of glinting wings and yellow bodies.

Chuckling water laughs at me,
as it rushes by through the rocks,
up ahead a cobalt pool waits
deep and smooth as glass.

The mirrored sky reflection
on the still morning's flat water,
reveals to me the teal Kingfisher
watching from the brush.

Silver swirls haunt the shallows,
ghosting motion catches the eye,
green and brown scales suddenly revealed
by the morning sun between the rocks.

Gray green willow branches
dangle in the pristine river,
the Hyperborean water from mountain tops
steam as the sun glints off the surface.

Rufous wings flash in flight
yellow hues are seen through the underbrush
the raucous call of the kiskadee
echoes off the water.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Ancient memories
transport me
to another place, different time,
alternate existence, simply sublime.

Through the winter's mist,
darkened by fires smoke,
emergence by grace,
the green of spring in my heart.

Crested blue jay,
perched upon the branch,
above the crystal snow,
feathers ruffled in the wind.

Longing for the new shoots of spring,
pushing up through the melting snow,
and announcing that life shall go on.

The wind and rain begin,
beware of flash floods,
snowmelt from above, dangerous,
brings needed moisture.

Colors spread on horizons,
like flavors of jam,
depending on the day and clouds,
determines sunset's taste.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Draw inhalations
and breathe out rings,
as the bobber floats,
patiently waiting.

A swig from the flask,
against the mornings cool,
a bullfrog sings from the bank,
and the smell of lake mud.

Childhood memories
swirl up from the past,
triggered by location,
tastes, sounds and smell.

The cork is ****** under,
I set the hook,
and reel in just one more,
memory to be stored and savored.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Lost
in memory fast
a dream of the past
a connection of hearts
the fulfilling of souls
in the end made
whole
Period, End of Story
The Fire Burns Nov 2016
Lost
in memory fast
a dream of the past
a connection of hearts
the fulfilling of souls
in the end made
whole
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Relationships end,
hearts must mend,
times needle and thread,
or another's bed.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Inspirations are contagious,
a quickly moving infection
of poet's minds,
and passed on through contact
with words and verse.
The Fire Burns Oct 2016
Mental stains
On my brain
From things that I have seen

Brutal strain
From the pain
Due to places I have been

Emotions drained
I feel the chain
Information gleaned

Window pane
Reveals the bane
Life is not pristine
The Fire Burns May 2020
Strangled thoughts ricochet around,
screaming silence muted sound,
lost inside the synaptic pulses,
like a myriad of combined song versus.

My feet move unbidden,
to only sounds that are hidden,
deep inside my skull and brain,
falling on me like gentle rain.
The Fire Burns Feb 2018
Deep timbre words,
seemingly from nowhere,
offering advice on life
and different opportunities.

Choices are the spice of life,
they flavor the future,
from deep within,
ancestors speak guidance.

Sometimes skull-rattling,
other times a whispered word,
like marks on a map,
to keep us on track.

In the end, the choice is ours,
to heed the mental whispers,
or to venture down dangerous alleys,
despite the inner warnings.
Voice - Chris Young
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Lost in a thought,
triggered by a stare,
I look at you,
and sink into a pool of destiny.

Diaphanous gossamer lace,
outlines your margins,
pulling my eyes deeper,
arousing my inquisitive side.

Your pernicious smile,
excites and saddens me,
vexing my ambitions,
and confusing my vivication.

Slowly, it melts into something,
so simmeringly hot,
that there is no question,
that wrappings will be scattered.

The libidinous winds begin to blow,
engrossing and exhausting rapture,
infiltrating gratification,
reaching a zenith of perfection.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Pheromones and thoughts entwined,
two souls slowly try to combine,
one plus one, you do the math,
and travel down life's loving path.
The Fire Burns Sep 2019
Upon the land stupidity reigns,
common sense lost to time,
righteous indignation flowing thorough veins,
anything deemed offensive is a crime.

There is no rhyme or no reason,
vocal minorities lead the charge,
they killed history and holiday seasons,
with every day their ranks enlarge.

Lost in a lie that life is fair,
think through participation, they are owed,
but being human they only err,
but the weeds of life go unmowed.

Soon a jungle covers the land,
and no one gets to say their piece,
it's now a slippery *****, full of quicksand,
no one escapes the thought police.

Genders bent and words outlawed,
what once was funny is now shunned,
where there was laughter once guffawed,
we all sit in silence stunned.
The Fire Burns Oct 2016
The shadows on the wall
from the sun going down
My flying mind stalls
nose dives toward the ground

Mind shadows cross my field of view
like bodachs headed for souls to chew
I shake my head to clear them out
restart my engine with a mental shout

The lights come on and I fly away
to fight the shadows another day
its dark outside, out come the stars
gray matter dreams of living on mars.

Shadows shaken for a time
off to someone else for mental crime
they will be back once more
but for now I have won the war
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
My fire burns
In love and words
Never to be quenched
Until at last
The time has come
Everything and I am consumed
Acrostic
The Fire Burns Sep 2017
A little red Dachshund,
lies on a rectangle green mat,
curled into a c, and looking at me,
soaking up stripes of sunlight,
as they filter through the blinds.

An old wooden school desk,
it's platform once again in use,
ready to write on golden lines,
as it is every day at this time,
on line ruled stripes of sunlight.

A millipede crawls up a dresser,
like interconnected living links of chain,
it dances to the sound of a box fan,
swaying in its breeze, I do not fear its bite,
as it is made up of stacked rings of sunlight.

A black and white cat chases nothing,
intermittently across the living room,
curious, I watch closely, nothing,
ah there it is, a bit of reflected sun,
the size of my watch face runs across the floor.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Mirrored personalities,
visible to none,
seen in the silvered pane,
all of them create the one.

The lover and the fighter.
the dreamer, and the realist.
the angel and the demon.
the solid and the mist.

We are all made up,
of several selves.
some we let out,
others, always shelved
The Fire Burns Feb 2018
Upon misery's moat,
we are destined to float.
some of us suffer our wishes,
the rest of us cast for fishes.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Fabric covered with gravel,
the weight presses me down,
the sun burns down from overhead,
the wind in through a small hole,
directly ahead is my only relief.

From twenty stories below me,
the sounds of the city rise,
hot dogs and coffee smells waft by,
the sounds of airport's flights overhead.

Through a small pane of glass,
I watch the world marred by a cross,
silent, patient, watching wind speeds,
men, women cars, trucks, all being watched.

Searching slowly through my small window,
for a particular face, male, large cheek scar,
blonde hair, parted to the left, glasses,
Armani suit, charcoal, matching briefcase.

Seventy-two hours, barely moving,
cross now moving across the sidewalk,
faces, faces, wait back one last person,
smug scarred face, positive identification.

Following out of the Starbucks onto the walk,
slowly tracking, out into the open park,
finger slowly creeping taking up the slack,
breathing composed, even, easy.

Nothing behind him, all alone now,
finish the squeeze, a punch to my shoulder,
a balloon pops in the park and birds fly,
a body not moving now lying in green grass.

A business man rides down the elevator,
briefcase in hand, tailored suit,
strolls casually out into the street,
non-descript, disappearing into the crowd.
The Fire Burns Oct 2016
Gettysburg and Viet Nam
Hiroshima dropped a bomb
To Iraq and Iran
And don't forget Afghanistan

Libya and Syria
How about Granada
Bay of pigs, what a mess
Waterboard to confess

War on terror
Constant errors
War on drugs
Tupac promotes life of thugs

Walls across Mexico
Obama let's terrorists go
Hillary Clinton, Benghazi
Email server travesty

Affordable care
Payments a scare
Social security robbed
When will we march and mob

Governments broken beyond repair
Sheeple distracted by trump's hair
Cannot tell right and wrong
This has gone on too long

Marshall or sharia law
Has us up against a wall
Women silenced or hidden with sheets
Bite your tongue when you speak

Vocal minorities win again
Religious folks think it's a sin
I just think we have been forsake
Into our hearts the final stake
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Sometimes I feel the need to write,
other times, thoughts are bound up tight.
There are moments that I need to hug,
and others I feel like cutting a rug.

The fetal position is sometimes needed
when you are gutted and soul is bleeding.
Some days require a smile brighter than the sun,
and the need to go and do something fun.

A few hours in life contain love and pain,
as you watch your love's life drain away.
Glad you are, they have no more moans,
then you realize, that you are alone.

Wedding days and lifting veils,
like you found the holy grail.
Others minutes are of pure joy,
no matter if its a girl or a boy.

Seconds, minutes, days and years,
enjoy them, be happy, have a beer,
but take the good with the bad
and realize they are the only ones you get to have.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Nothing gets past her,
as if a third eye watches me,
constantly monitoring,
every thought and deed,
even completing my sentences.

Uncanny.
The Fire Burns Jan 2018
Luna smiles upon the earth,
tides rise, as do emotions
and lips meet in the shadows.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
To be trapped so young
suffocating, no air
slowly being destroyed
by one's own choices and breaths.

The clear liquid burns inside
destroying all control
opening her up to
pleasure and pain.

Regrets rise to the top,
as she tries to drown them,
the still drips into the jar,
liquid pain killer.

Trapped in the cycle,
the pain, the drain,
the numbness
the strain.

She slowly destroys her life,
and her liver, with each sip,
bad choice and she cannot stop
opening the jar.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Sun creeps over the mountain tops,
deep in the holler hiding out from cops,
copper line coils and smoke rises high,
snow melt creek cools it off with a sigh.

Lightning in a bottle, infused with spice,
apple pie and peaches, make it taste nice,
swallow it down, that burning feeling,
it lifts the veils, truths start revealing.

Moonshine midnights and the stars shine,
dew drops drip from the long leaf pine,
a log fire burns long and slow,
steam hisses and pops as white lightning flows.

Quart mason jars filled up right,
don't want any spills, ***** the lid on tight,
catch every drop coming out of the still,
on the creek bank, hidden back in the hills.

Twenty dollars a pop, time to make the dash,
selling it around and making some cash,
got to be careful, or people start talking,
then got hide as cops start stalking.

Meeting buyers on back roads,
guy just bought my whole load,
says he wants more, hands me up front cash,
guess its time to go and start new mash.

Moonshine midnights and the stars shine,
dew drops drip from the long leaf pine,
a log fire burns long and slow,
steam hisses and pops as white lightning flows.
The Fire Burns Oct 2016
Bathroom in the dark
Reading the news of the day
Wife comes to shower

Begins to undress
Shirt, pajamas, ******* off
I love her **** form

Hot  water on, steam
Mirror fogs, bath gel applied
Tan long legs shaved smooth

I love to watch her
Armpits done, hair shampooed  clean
Conditioner on

Hand her a towel
Naked body so close by
You know I will try

My hand slides under
Towel, hand brushes ******
Naughty smile, later

Walks away with grin
Cute round cheeks, cannot pass up
Quick squeeze more ahead

Frustrated, for now
Watch, *******, socks, pants,bra, shirt
Put on despite me

Beautiful package
Wrapped up for later on tonight
Promises of bliss
January 2016
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
Tumeric and cayenne spice,
early morning skies,
the blue that I can see,
reminds me of Cozumel.

Sizzling and popping,
peppered bacon dances,
In the skillet,
adding aroma and music.

A drum beat of perking coffee,
joins the sounds and smells,
a rooster crows in the back yard,
as I crack brown astrolarp eggs.

Golden yolks suddenly match the sun,
the sky, now just blue with a single cloud,
I scramble and reach in the cabinet,
for pinches of cayenne and tumeric.
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
The mosaic of our love,
made of our shattered souls,
we helped each other
pick them up from the ground.

Conversation and laughter,
understanding our pasts,
sharing our pain,
began to glue us together.

A new picture began to form,
something new and beautiful,
a work of art being sculpted,
out of our broken hearts.

No longer pieces on the ground,
our passions since repaired,
where I had a hole, she had a patch
and where she was missing, I fit.

To find love inside of hate,
and depressing heartbreak,
created a lasting work
of loving hearts.
The Fire Burns Nov 2017
Buzzing blood pumps,
ingesting essence,
itching remembrance.
The Fire Burns Mar 2018
The sun kissed the day,
tangerine smooches,
creating ocean breezes,
aquamarine reflections.

Capped white and reflecting,
as she climbed in the sky,
golden light bringing life,
from far away space.

Creating photosynthetic greens,
and bipedal dreams,
roaming and evolving,
yet destroying.

Mother nature's mistake.
trust.
trust for her creations,
to take care of her.
The Fire Burns Sep 2016
We mount up and ride the road
Leather clad and bikini topped beauty
clings to my waist

The wind is in our face
her hair blows ferociously
goggles spotted with bugs

Confederate flag do-rag
club vest, decorated
nickname on the back

500 miles of pure bliss
curves and hills and straights
in the summer sun

Stop along the way
outdoor bar
El Pacifico and lime
inspired by a friends poem and a different friends motorcycle pic on facebook
The Fire Burns Sep 2016
Melting snow creates a stream
running down the mountainside
like a vivid night of dreams
ending in the foaming tide

Valley lake full of trout
top of water, insects float
on the edges cattails sprout
not sufficiently deep  for a boat

Cold clear water in I wade
casting my fly to the shore
I spy motion in the shade
stripping back cast once more

The fly hits the cattails base
a swirl and a flash below
moving fly, trout gives chase
incoming, stripping slow

Trout is caught and in my creel
wade back to the lakes edge
in the truck behind the wheel
driving home on mountains edge
The Fire Burns Sep 2017
Misted mountain Meadows,
manifest melancholy mysteries,
mirrored mystical marauder's,
make magical mischief.
The Fire Burns Oct 2016
Here it comes once again
inspiration overcome
I pick the tokens from the ground
and flip them off my thumb

Flying in the air I see
a spinning ring of gold
while I can catch it again
it is not mine to hold

So with a heavy heart
I drop it to the ground
listening intently
to the clinking sound

As I walk away
notice the rust on my finger
gold doesn't rust
but the thought doesn't linger
The Fire Burns May 2019
On days the mountains are close,
others they cannot be seen at all,
I swear they ride the rails,
at our imaginations beck and call.

The snow-capped peak winks,
in the spectacular rising sun,
reflecting thoughts and dreams,
and future hopes of skiing fun.

Today my mood is dreary,
on the verge of being bleak,
the mountains are all hidden,
for even they are feeling meek.
The Fire Burns Oct 2016
What are these spots on my face
What is this fat around my waist
Where is the hair from my head
It's only 10, why am I in bed

© 21 days ago, Jed Johnson
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