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  Jan 2018 Karl Johnson
ashley lingy
Occasionally I come across a person with brown eyes,
and I compliment them on those peepers.

More often than not, they laugh and say,
"Oh, they're just brown."
Or
"They're **** colored."
Or
"I wish I had blue/green/hazel eyes."

I want to grab them by the shoulders,
pull them close to me,
look into those eyes and say,
"Your eyes are alluring, deep, and warm."

Eyes the color of delicious coffee,
of which I want to gulp every last drop.
Eyes the color of ancient leather,
the binding of the best books.
Eyes the color of the soft soil,
from which everything good grows.

I say,
"Love your eyes, it's how the rest of us see into your soul."

Brown eyes are my favorite eyes.
Brown eyes make me feel like I am home.
Karl Johnson Jan 2018
A Freshened Palate, Perspective, and Purpose

Ingredients:

1 potato, 1 egg, half an onion, 1 clove of garlic
salt and pepper to taste
Light frying oil, 2 slices of bacon,
A fistful of poor self image
I mean, spinach
Balsamic vinegar, applesauce,
A dash of self-hate, and left over unwanted thoughts
Note: for a healthier alternative, forget the self-hate
Also note: Can’t remove unwanted thoughts


Step-by-step instructions:
1. Trim potato of any bad areas
    No matter how badly you’d want to trim
    Yourself

    Wash and scrub away any dirt or sand
2. Grate potato,
    Not knuckles
    Squeeze gratings with an old
    T-shirt or throwaway towel
    You could use the shirt you’re wearing
    But you’d end up wearing your stains
    Which, honestly,
    You do anyway

3. Grate onion, cry
4. Finely chop garlic
    Don’t think about the bad breath
5. Put potato, onion, garlic, and 1 egg (without shell)
    Into the bowl and
    Mix
    But not like mixing drinks with anxiety med
    And bad coping mechanisms.

6. Heat oil until shimmery
    Fry potato mixture to make 2 or 3
    Golden brown, delicious latkes
7. Fry bacon while latkes are in pan
    Fry two slices so the bacon doesn’t
    Have to be
    Alone or
    Isolated

    Set aside on paper towel to soak up the grease
8. Boil water to poach eggs.
    Once boiling,
    Swirl water into a whirlpool
    Exactly like the thoughts scalding
    The insides of my skull
    For example:
    Do you know what it’s like to
    Hate yourself? To not stop the
    Unbelief that you are any
    Good at all?
    Understanding that you’re
    Unemployed
    Unskilled
    Unwanted

Gently ***** two eggs into whirlpool
    Understanding that you can’t simply
    “Get over this”
    Like standing under burdens
    And whiskey bourbon hits
    Expectations - faraway dreams
    Only furthering it
    Like you’ll never be able to accomplish them
    You’ll surmount them but run
    Out of oxygen because
    You’re not
    Supposed to be there
    In the first place

(don’t worry, the whirlpool will prevent eggs from
breaking)
    (Don’t you see what
    Everybody else is doing
    And you act like you
    Know what you yourself
    Is doing
    Don’t you see all your
    Truly selfish doings
    Who do you think you are?
    -laughing- you’re bad
    Where do you think
TURN OFF THE HEAT AND COVER
    Set timer for exactly 5 minutes.
    Do not
    Lift the cover until time is
    Up.
    After 5 minutes, scoop eggs out with slotted spoon and set on paper towel to dry.
    Let eggs
    *Rest.

    Be careful,
    The yolks
    Are very fragile at this point.

Assemble the dish
Spread applesauce on potato latkes. Be careful
Not to spread so thin.
Don’t be stingy,
take what You need.
Put bacon on top, stack poached eggs on top of the bacon.
Garnish plate with spinach, sprinkle with balsamic vinegar.
Each thing has its place, even if it seems too complex or complicated.

Flavor Profile;
Latkes are light and
Fluffy and crispy.
Onions, garlic give a basic, yet
Flavorful foundation.
The egg yolks spill a very rich, deep syrupiness that is brought out by the salty, fatty bacon.
The applesauce is special because the sweetness and **** contrasts with the smooth richness of egg, potato and bacon.

And just like life, balances the heavy with the light
          Work with play
       Teaching with learning
                               Spending money with saving money
       Learning things and saying things
       Being there with being here


And sometimes, amidst all of that
You need something to add
a little fresh,

A little color
A little bit of
Different.
That’s where the Spinach comes in
Some
Justified bitterness to
Freshen your
Palate, perspective, and purpose.


With each bite and each taste
You’re reminded that each blend of flavors
Each collision of textures
Are compositions of each ingredients and
each step:
    The onions, the salt, the applesauce
Slicing, chopping, grating
Frying, failing, hating
Boiling, swirling, burning
Accidents, bad luck
Tripping over, getting up
Panicking, breathing, saying “enough”

And having an end product
Like this
Is
Purpose
It is how it’s supposed to be
You are who you’re supposed to be

When you’re finished, wipe your hands
Wash your plate
Realize you have dishes to do
And more courses
More tastes
To produce

*So that you will never go hungry
With this Circadian Appetite
  Oct 2017 Karl Johnson
Dr Peter Lim
Be patiently silent
in your sorrow
be humbly silent
in your joy
Karl Johnson Oct 2017
They say “life happens”
and it turns out, death waits.
I am like a bull
charging into his flourish
The matador, opposite of my emotion
I am lucky, for he is patient

It takes two to tango but
it’s just you in this
this dance with death
and as you slip away, into it
charging becomes
running
becomes running to
becomes running from
and in the end, it’s all just
running

This bullfight is anything but
a dichotomy
escapades are laced with
fear and aggression
impulses are masked by
roars of the crowd.
To them you’re not you, just who they think
they wouldn’t know emotions you don’t even know yourself

It is a fear.
Calves are trained to hate humans
conditioned and cultivated in fear
fight becomes flight
it is a game.

Run free in this coliseum
chase what is the end and what defines the beginning
grieving the loss of a couple family members
  Jun 2017 Karl Johnson
Grace
My quick wit becomes lack luster
When you promised
It was what made me shine
But you don't have room for a woman
With a spit fire mind

Not your cookie cutter woman
Fitting into a too small of frame
I am quick wit and a sharp tongue
Fast enough where you just might miss it

But my sharp tongues only valuable
If it's tracing up your thighs
And my brains only beautiful
If it's firing impulses
Saying **** him right

You want the pieces of me
That fit the mark
Potato peeler to the rest
What makes the cut?

I am not programmable
To be the person that you dream
Nor would I ever want to be

It took years to come into my own
To cherish this olive skin
And cement bones
To admire my passion
And let it fuel my fire

Believe me, darling
I will burn it down
I am enough and more
Karl Johnson Jun 2017
I spent some time in the Clouds today: turns out
we're not that different.
I realized
my mind is
inhabited by Cirrus and Cumulonimbus.
As a result,
this week's forecast is brought to you by
The Hypothalamus.

I rain in tears,
spring showers and
summer storms in
Unintelligible mutterings
                         sputterings, spit and
Outbursts  of  stutterings.
It's pea soup when I'm P-d off.
Ominously overcast until I'm over it.
Thoughts condense inside;
my skull sweats
until my thoughts are no longer as dense
until it all makes sense.

My head's in the Clouds or
the clouds are in my head.
Thoughts drift off like imagination vapors
on a Sunday afternoon.
I'm captured by these Attention span capers
like the sun captivates the moon.

I'm waiting on clear skies;
my brain's barometoer breaks
       under AtmosFearic pressure.
But the greatest beauty is glimpsed
as the sun's set reflects upon cumuliform
                       - Breathless -
Each gleam an unreplicable clash  
of time, light, and wonder
That a cloudy disposition
     would only discover.
Karl Johnson Jun 2017
A heart like yours
    made of pure gold
I'm captivated by yours
    heart, mind, and soul

Eyes more bright than diamonds
         through them
             the dreams, memories
                  a lingering silence
A single glance, that catches the horizon
          No words to explain
               like the moon rising
                   despite the sunset's defiance
                        a masterpiece
I jump, I melt, I burst // I felt
I shout
              and dive headfirst

What's North to South?
What's you to me?
    Treasure, closely kept, to mine.
to Sara
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