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July 2024
HP Poet: Gregory Alan Johnson
Age: 69
Country: USA


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, G Alan. Please tell us about your background?

Gregory Alan Johnson: "I grew up in a suburb of Cleveland, Ohio called Brook Park. Son of a US Steel customer service rep and a law firm receptionist, both alcoholics. Outside of the occasional chaos and abuse of having alcoholic parents, I suppose I had a fairly normal upbringing. I loved reading, art and baseball in that order. After graduating high school, I got a job as an auto mechanic apprentice. I fell in with a motley crew of reprobates, in which the pursuit of *****, drugs and girls was of the utmost importance. Amid this swirling of foolishness I also incessantly drew and wrote poetry in journal after journal. After 2 years I had assembled enough of a portfolio to be accepted into Cooper School of Art in 1974. Here I fell in with another group of ne'er-do-wells, but this crew was of a deeper variety; intellectuals, artists of course, and thinkers, all fueled by the seventies drug scene. It made for some very interesting days. I dropped out of art school after a year and a half, having learned pretty much all I needed to, and being thoroughly disgusted with the contemporary art scene which was populated with smug know-it-alls. (Laziness and a lack of discipline may have had something to do with it as well, but my current work reflects my disdain for these types and what they consider to be "good"). I ended up with a steady job as a warehouse manager, god help me, but always hanging with the eccentric creatives. I called this tribe the "levy Group" after fifties Cleveland beat poet and lunatic d.a. levy. This group may have made an impact on the Cleveland arts scene, if we didn't place so much emphasis on getting ****** and ******* off. But it resulted in some really amazing creative moments and would inform my work for the rest of my life.

I got married in 1980 if you can believe it, I still don't, and proceeded to raise a family. I was a part time free-lance illustrator and cartoonist, as well as working my full time job as a "manager". All during this time I wrote poetry and created artwork that I showed to NOBODY. I was in the midst of becoming a chronic alcoholic dealing with crushing depression, all the while showing the world a happy face, and this art turned out to be deeply therapeutic, but dark and strange...confronting my shadows, if you will. I managed to raise three boys, who seemed to turn out pretty well in spite of me, but my alcoholism was taking me over. After several breakdowns and some suicide attempts, I finally got sober in 2004. I remain sober today. I love it.

I retired in 2021 after having several scintillating logistics jobs, and decided to become a full-time creative artist. I have had some success doing this, including 3 solo shows. The arts center that was hosting one of my shows actually put up a billboard for it, as surreal a moment as you can get. My work is displaying in galleries in Cleveland and Columbus, and I've even sold a few. I have won "Best of Show" in three different exhibitions, which I can't quite grasp. I am an active member of the Ohio Poetry Association and have been published in three anthologies, and a couple on-line lit mags. I've never pursued publishing a book. I think my poetry is okay, but I'm an artist first. I am hosting an ekphrastic poetry event at my home gallery in Willoughby Ohio this month, which I'm really excited about. And of course I write on this site, which I love."



Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Gregory Alan Johnson: "I have been writing poetry since the age of 18, having been inspired by E.E. Cummings. I wrote and illustrated hundreds of poems in scores of art journal books. The majority of these were destroyed in a flood about ten years ago. I managed to salvage three. I have been a member of HP since 2019."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Gregory Alan Johnson: "I just write. Like my art, my muse sort of taps me on the shoulder. When that happens, I delve deep. There is rarely any theme, it's mostly stream of consciousness. Sometimes I play with rules of verse, but I prefer free verse, which is more fun. I rarely rhyme. When I do, it sounds too much like Dr. Seuss, so I leave that to the other poets here. I tend to reminisce, I suppose because I'm pushing 70. I hardly edit except for spelling, and just hit "save" and put it out there. This ****** off some of my more accomplished poet friends, who labor over their work until beads of blood appear on their foreheads. But I always tell them that I don't take my poetry seriously, to which they scoff with derision...and smile."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Gregory Alan Johnson: "I have come to realize that the act of being a living human being is profound and miraculous. We are surrounded by incredible things all the time. There is no mundane. There is no boredom. When I contemplate this for even a second I am overwhelmed. All poets understand this instinctively. And I don't mean life is all la dee dah happy time. It can be terrifically terrible and incredibly wonderful, with an infinity of shades in between. We as poets have this thirst to describe all this; most of us feel a deep obligation to do so. And we fall miserably short, which fuels us to try again. And again. We attempt to describe the indescribable, and explain the inexplicable."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Gregory Alan Johnson: "First, my favorites on HP: Anais Vionet, you Carlo, S Olson, Melancholy of Innocence, Thomas W Case, BLT, patty m, Marshall Gebbie (that wonderful coot), Lori Jones McCaffery, William J Donovan, Jamadhi Verse, Old poet MK, N, John Edward Smallshaw, and so many others, but these names popped right out.. This site houses some amazing talent.
As for the stars: d.a. levy, EE Cummings, Anne Sexton, EVERY SINGLE BEAT POET, but most especially William Burroughs, Charles Bukowski, Keats, Robert Miltner, Mary Oliver, Bob Dylan, Oscar Wilde, Dylan Thomas and Leonard Cohen."



Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Gregory Alan Johnson: "I read voraciously. I'm currently reading "Hotel Utopia" by poet Robert Miltner, "Slick Wrist" by poet Morgan Renae Mat, " A Confederacy of Dunces" by John Kennedy Toole (for I guess the tenth time), and "The Fourth Turning" by Neil Howe and William Strauss. I am consumed by my art career with continuing shows and submissions, some for which I am rejected, which keeps me grounded. I spend a lot of time being a grandpa, doing yard work and staring out the window. I meditate daily."


Carlo C. Gomez: “A big thank you for allowing us this opportunity to get to know the man behind the poet, G Alan! We are honored to include you in this ongoing series!”

Gregory Alan Johnson: "Thank YOU Carlo. I appreciate your support of poets!"



Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Gregory Alan Johnson a little bit better. I most certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #18 in August!

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Gregory Alan Johnson is on
tik tok @gregjohnson8009,
Instagram @gregoryalanart,
Facebook: GregoryAlanArtBusiness,
website: www.gregoryalanart.com,
email: greg@gr­egoryalanart.com

Below are some of Gregory Alan Johnson's favorite poems and links to each one:

Hyperactive Observations:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3227290/hyperactive-observations/

Love Amoeba:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3478844/love-amoeba/

Several Hungers:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3303045/several-hungers/

I Was A Stranger:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4628017/i-was-a-stranger/

**** Moon:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4735861/****-moon/
Sandman Nov 2021
Remember
Eternal silence
Before the breaking light

The trees outside
With all their color
With all my color
Tumbling down
Decaying
Into black and white

A sinking feeling
Origin unknown
Fleeting dreams
(Some mine, some not)
Absurdity moves through us

Random thoughts collecting
In the gutters of my mind
Meaningless
Noise

Concealed within a single teardrop
Falling from a roof top
The final step
The last breath
Colm Jun 2019
Cloud and water
Is a way of thinking
Of presumptive of being

Which calms the minds
Of those who see shadows
In every corner

And demons in every shadow alike
Cloud and water
And perfectly shapen sky
Alan Watts was clever indeed
Colm May 2019
A dither of doubt
Doesn't do justice to this

To the self inflicted wound of how

Carved out like wood
And collapsed like stone

The engraving is known
And read often aloud
To a mind bent on listening
To such wavering doubts
"And if we lack self confidence..."
A M Ryder Dec 2018
So if you really go the whole way and
See how you feel about the prospect of vanishing forever
If all your efforts and all your achievements and
All your attainments, turning into dust
Into nothingness..
What is the feeling?
What happens to you?
It's a curious thing
The most real state is the state of nothingness
That's what it's all going to come to
GM Nov 2018
Your skin was flawless, I'm so pale
My life is a mess, yours was a fairy tale
Your voice was perfect
While mine sounds incorrect
You used to shine so bright
I run from the light
I'd still could make you like me, I bet
It's such a waste that we have never met
But you went to a better place in two thousand sixteen
And I keep living here, where people are so mean
Yet, sir, wherever you are
You'll always be my favorite star
ClawedBeauty101 Aug 2018
...I couldn't help but to stare blankly at your white, emotionless face...

The last time I saw you... You had a light full of joy and grace...

But to see that light now gone from you body left a taste of melancholy

A hood of sorrows is what hid my bitter sweet tears from them and you, what folly...

Before my aching heart could leave your presence, your eyes opened...

Your heart startled by a hug, your eyes gazed around at all of us, an opportunity, I was hope'n

You stared straight into my black stained waterfall and spooked me

When your pale, cold hand, with quickness, grabbed my hand.. and begged me not to leave..

It shook... I could feel and count every bone you used... with the little muscle strength you had...

My body trembled at your white, thin, Skeleton hand... Stabbed by the reality of loss...the insecurity was bad..

I felt so troubled and helpless... Since there was nothing from me you could gain...

"Alan...Linard...." was the last thing I heard, the last thing she said... it was her husband's name...

6 days later... 9:15pm, July 2nd, 2018...for the first time... I watched Some breath their last... and finally die...

Puzzled by how quick and peaceful a painful image thing can be.... It felt so deceitfully wrong... but I knew it was..right..

Donna... You wouldn't come back... even if you could.. you wouldn't

You in a place of paradise... pure perfection... I wont lie... I miss you.. but I know you could never return... you couldn't..
..I hate writing stuff like this.

Lord.. Thank you for finally taking her home..

Donna, you always said to me "Age Doesn't Matter" for a variety  of things I told you about... I want to always thank you for constantly telling me that...and for praying for me, and for teaching me what it means to be a prayer warrior...
Luuk Dec 2017
There is one big illusion
We have a spacious room, where you are living on your own
Filled with perception
The concept of identity that you know
The limited illusion of the self

It only creates confusion
Because now we’re separated from eachother
Though we think it’s not
We only have to learn to
Let the e-go
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