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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/
Styles Jul 2024
In our secret haven, where fantasies entwine,
I craft my words for you, in moments so divine.
A tantalizing dance, where pleasure meets tease,
In the dim glow of our sanctuary, we find our ease.

With my fingers tracing, you start to explore,
A touch so precise, craving always more.
**** music in the air, setting the night,
Watching ****'s soft flicker, igniting your delight.

The rush of desire swells, an unending wave,
In the realm of edging, where you’re bold and brave.
Your body, a symphony, responding to the tune,
Every teasing touch, making your senses swoon.

The build-up is exquisite, dizzying and sweet,
Heightened sensitivity, making your heart beat.
You're constantly turned on, a wet, eager flame,
As I guide you slowly, whispering your name.

Hours drift by, lost in the sheets,
Craving my touch, where ecstasy meets.
Each touch a jolt, electrifying and pure,
In the dance of edging, patience is the lure.

You writhe in bed, under my command,
Craving the moment, where pleasure will expand.
Every touch, a shockwave, intense and grand,
Your body yearning for the strength of my hand.

When the crescendo hits, an explosion of delight,
You let go, surrendering to the night.
Satisfaction washes over, leaving you empowered,
In our shared ecstasy, where desire is devoured.

In this dance of self-love, a bond we tightly keep,
Our bodies in harmony, in desires deep.
Trust in the journey, the thrill of the ride,
In the playful pleasure, where our worlds collide.
Styles Jul 2024
In his bed, she lay, pressed deep inside,
His raw desire, no need to hide.
Pumping into her, his ***** slapped her ***,
Bite marks on her neck, their passions surpassed.

Moans filled the room, a symphony of lust,
His grunts echoed, their bodies a ******.
Chest to chest, he rumbled and roared,
******* her deeper, into the mattress he soared.

Overwhelmed, she felt on the brink,
Too much and not enough, her thoughts couldn’t think.
Holding him tighter, legs wrapped around,
His **** slid deeper, lost in the sound.

Her knees trembled, her cries filled the air,
“That’s it,” he moaned, pulling her hair.
“*** on my ****,” his voice a command,
And she did, falling apart in his hand.

Trembling, moaning, his name on her lips,
She came all over his ****, in their lustful eclipse.
Feeling his twitch, his pulse, his release,
Warmth filled her up, bringing her peace.

In that moment, with him, pure bliss,
She could die happy, embraced in his kiss.
A symphony of ecstasy, their passions untamed,
In each other’s arms, forever they remained.
Styles Jul 2024
Want me fiercely, hold me tight,
In your submission, I find my light.
Inside of you, our desires ignite,
In this symphony of control and delight.
Styles Jul 2024
Deep inside of you, my favorite place to be,
Wrapped in the warmth of your intimacy.
Touch me softly, gentle breeze,
Tease me with your whispered pleas.

Please me with your tender touch,
Need me, crave me, oh, so much.
Feel the heat of your body, so near,
Taste your essence, truth or dare.  

Wanting me in the way the dark desire the light,
Be greedy for my love, hold me tight.
In this dance of passion, let us be, oh so right.
A symphony of desire, wild and free.

The warmth of your mouth, your tender embrace,
In your arms, I find my place.
So want me fiercely, without delay,
Be greedy for my touch, come what may.

Inside of you, my favorite place to be,
In this embrace, let our souls ignite,
For in your heat, I find my light.
between your thighs, love at first sight.
Arthur Vaso Jun 2024
Possessed very little
other than my heart
a small cloth bag under his bed
in case he had to run
everything precious to him
a favourite book, a poem, a string
a pearl in a cage
he no longer can run
I can no longer hide
the heart that now
must die
Good Bye Hazza, you know you were loved in the end.
Styles Jun 2024
Under the silk of a star-kissed night,
Our bodies find each other, pure delight.
A gentle touch, a lingering sigh,
As shadows dance where our secrets lie.

The heat between us, a smoldering flame,
Whispers my name, over and over, the same.
Soft breaths mingle, lips softly press,
A symphony of desire in each caress.

Fingers trace paths on skin, so smooth,
Every inch explored, in a rhythmic groove.
Heartbeats sync in a sensual beat,
As we melt together in the summer's heat.

Eyes locked in a gaze, deep and profound,
Lost in a world where only passion is found.
In the quiet hum of the night's embrace,
We find heaven in this sacred space.
Styles Jun 2024
The harsh heat of fire's harsh grip,
Deflecting the sunlight's unyielding whip.
Flames roar loudly, shouting in the day,
Taking from our moment, the joy away.
In the heights, where light beams separate,
Fire absorbs indifference, yours and mine.
Every flicker hides a tale so bitter,
As we resist, our flames flicker,
the sky's open and our paths diverge.
Styles Jun 2024
The cool caress of water's embrace,
Mirroring the moonlight's tender grace.
Waves lap softly, whispering in the night,
Adding to our moment, pure delight.
In the depths, where shadows intertwine,
Water reflects passion, yours and mine.
Every ripple tells a tale so sweet,
As we surrender, like the tides
when the water and shore collides
Debra Lea Ryan Jun 2024
It is ruddy  exhausting scribbling down
The thoughts  from overnight
Like it is some F'King Plight!

You think it is a Dream
Till you  Scream
I'm staying in Bed!
Get out of my F'King Head!

DLR
☀♥ƸӜƷ✿♬
The Life of a Poet with a Sense of Humour! Ha! Apology if the F Bomb upsets anyone.  It is not always me to let loose like this.  Perhaps I need to eh.
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