For those of you who love conspiracy and investigating secrets, these poems are littered with them, some more than others. Most contain cryptic with clues about past, present and the future.
Some are a tip of the hat to those that have I admired and who've inspired what once had me fired up about getting wired. I guess I got tired. Its not funny how fast the time goes only to wind up right back where you started.
The Puppet
by Brian Joseph Johns
Two had qualm with one another.
They sought no means by to recover.
Day in day out they'd seek reprisal.
Living out their daily trial.
Then one day with a grand puppet.
Did the other come to trump wit.
He bid the puppet to attack.
It hit the other in the back.
"You hit me there as plain as day!"
"Speak your defense you'd better say."
"T'was not me, I did not hit you."
"T'was the puppet, I saw him kick you."
To this the victim did respond:
"With your puppet I'll abscond!"
And when he finally did come back,
He used said puppet to give a whack.
His enemy stunned at this procession,
exclaimed "how dare you take possession"
That's my puppet and you attacked
"You hit my head and I've been sacked!"
"It was the puppet. Not me, I'd not."
"I saw it do this, his wrath wrought!"
The other frustrated took the strings,
and walked it home to fix these things.
The next morn the two began to fight.
All through the day and into night.
They hurt each other to no end.
When the puppet showed for peace to rend.
"You two fight! enough's enough!"
"To win a fight makes not one tough!"
"To win a peace that is the prize."
"But not to win by a bed of lies."
"You know my puppet, I think you're right!"
"I've cured our conflict on this night!"
"I steered you to this course of action."
"To our mutual satisfaction."
The puppet turned and said to him,
"You speak no truth, just lies and whim."
"When I hit your adversary."
"You blamed me despite the truth contrary."
And when he tried to hit you back.
He blamed me too for that attack.
So for this peace I do accept.
The credit's mine and to be kept.
Copyright © Brian Joseph Johns 2014
A Nameless Poem written on September 9, 2014
Her beauty is a twine
through me runs like wine
and though I've seen her nought
she's there in every thought
Copyright © Brian Joseph Johns 2014
Here is a copy of a letter I wrote in response to a posting I found on Craigslist for a free online rpg game. I am a big fan of Dungeons And Dragons and have been so since I was a child. I guess I have to thank TSR (now Wizards Of The Coast) and Tolkien for that.
A Response To A Craigslist Ad on Sunday July 13, 2014
Well met. I hereby do officially seek further response with regard to the aforementioned adventure you referred to in a posting on a wall in Ye Craigslist House Of Ale And Mead. I found the posting on the wall thereof and in seeking such adventure sought a response. I am a practitioner of the "arts" and am useful in many situations ranging from the interpreting of ancient languages and dialects to the conjuring of food and sustenance to feed a group of such adventurers like mine own. My skills and martial prowess is much to the envy of many and you and yours in company may find my services useful.
I am interested to know, what sort of expedition is this that you are planning to undertake? Are we seeking to remove a despotic Gnoll or Orcish band from the wilds or will we be delving into the depths of the earth in search of aetherial and ancient artifacts? I must know this in advance as I am slightly claustrophobic in tight spaces and tend to curl up into a ball and shudder for hours upon end when such a fit hits me.
As well I have a fear of dark places which adds to discomfort I experience in the dankness of the depths. I don`t like carrying torches either as the sparks that often fall from them burn my hands and I have a fear of fire or being burned.
If you are interested in my application for such an adventure please do reply or seek me over at the table in the corner, the one directly near the lantern. I'll be accompanied by a stout heart Halfling and a lady of the Moonsea Elf clan. Both are available as well for said adventure for their fair share of the spoils.
I also know of three ladies (four if I can convince Yirfir), practitioners of the craft who might be interested in just such an expedition as well. What I lack they more than make up for in beauty and talent alone.
If the dangers of such an adventure prove too risky then I'd just be as apt to accept a reasonable facsimile of such an adventure, maybe rendered on one of those modern steam powered devices that the Gnomes seem to be tinkering with all of the time. I believe they are called online RPG games. If you know of such, then please do respond.
Congenially And Gratefully,
Brian Joseph Johns
PS. Please reply and I look forward to your response.
http://toronto.en.craigslist.ca/tor/zip/4566014213.html
In response to a lady named Rose...
Just as your namesake. Bringing into being beauty and benevolence by name bore alone.
A Rose.
Perhaps that's why it rhymes with Rise?
And you too. Those who do. You too are part of the brew. If only how much you knew then we'd truly know how few do.
But for sure only a Rose truly knows.
Brian Joseph Johns
This one is a little blunt.
Inspiration For Trent And Rysalin
This poem sort of answers that though for sure others might know me as "beatup" meaning I was the guy who died on a side walk on Terraview Dr. and was resuscitated in an ambulance shortly after being picked up. Another person who lived there with us was Ron Silk who later moved on to live with a lady and her two children.
I worked for a hotel, just like my friend John Penny which made me a little bit like Trent. John is in there a little too and his admirable all or nothing attitude that makes you realize that you're alive in case you forget. One of the hardest working people I've known with a penchant love of blues music. My friend Ian and I were and still are much alike. A poet as well who has kept most of his efforts within the confines of his journal or his soul which are both the same thing sometimes. A man on his way to meet his bride. They're both very fortunate.
That tells a little bit about where the idea of Trent came from in Stories From The End though it still doesn't answer who Rysalin is drawn from in Stories From The End. I lived in Trent's shoes from 1990 forward for a time working in a hotel. While single and shy, I had a girl who worked for part of the catering department that dealt with their specific clientèle. I never had the nerve to approach her at the time and we never met again after that though she may have been symbolic of someone who it would have been wrong to approach. She never expressed interest, not even in a hateful sort of way as someone else had hinted that I'd never had the confidence to really talk with.
Trent is a little bit of me, but there are some other people in there too. Rysalin, who is a composite of many women I've met, especially who've courageously taken up to learn a new language while earning a living alone in a completely unfamiliar place. Don't get the impression that I'm a womanizer, because I'm not. Every one of my encounters with a partner in the last ten years I can count on one hand without the need of my thumb and I don't jump into that without the prospect of monogamy and commitment.
From the time that I was 13, I was a bit of a new romantic goth punk when I was young and was among the first in my city to be as such after meeting a friend named Doug though kind of found my way there by music. There were others at that time but it was extremely rare. I was knocked unconscious by someone in my school because they thought I was gay. By the time I was sixteen I was attending all night dance clubs and many of my friends were gay. I was effeminate but still attracted to women but I'd never had any problem with homosexuality on the part of men or women. I hadn't been subjected to social polarization until 2000 in any real sense so I remained pretty docile and easy going until then. The rest I'll let you figure out as there is quite a bit of puzzle there.
No this isn't a poem where I give you clues and you guess what notable person it refers to, this is my life if it were wrapped up in verse but not inverse (or perverse hopefully).
Yes this poem is me and my life, Brian Joseph Johns. A single and childless man with a relatively meaningless existence that seems to draw a lot of interest from others trying to impersonate him? The best way to beat people doing so is with the truth.
I'm That Guy: An Introductory Piece
I recently wrote this poem as a sort of draw my life, though I thought that I'd do it as a poem. There seems to be a lot of people interested in the group of us that lived at 59 Shandon Avenue in Toronto Ontario in 1990 forward.
I'm That Guy
You may ask, who am I
Which one are you, or did you die?
I will tell you who I am
Its all I have to make this stand
I'm the guy who walked when two
I crawled a lot while I learnt true
I'm the guy who wrote when four
A simple verse though none so pure
I'm the guy whose parents taught
that recognition can't be bought
We cannot make you from false pretense
Those bricks not solid and liar's friends
I'm the guy who wanted drums
My parents told me work your thumbs
On keys we have of black and white
Those shades you'll find of love and strife
I'm the guy whose parents taught
Filters, Effects, Midi just bought
Synths that had to be kept tuned
Just like guitar or song be ruined
I'm the guy who wrote on them
Before my nine became my ten
I'm the guy who saw wars stars'
Within a theatre, the audience cars
A week along its release plan
A month long later and all were fans
I'm the guy whose parent told
Of Ridley's works afore I was old
I'm they guy whose halloween
Saw friends of mine drunk nights between
A party while my parents gone
My father kept its' secret long
I'm the guy whose coloured hair
Caused quite a stir to some a scare
One chose to beat me to the ground
Unconscious left before I was found
He looked to me and thought me gay
That was enough to deal his way
He bounced my head to locker school
Thankfully none my blood was pooled
I woke up later left to wake
Alone they left as a male fake
I stood and walked again and proud
Duran's concert that night was loud
I'm the guy who wore gold to his ears
Despite the death threats and the fears
Under my eyes liner was black
While people scorned me to my back
I'm the guy who left home young
My parents lost for what they'd sung
Stolen by those whose worth is none
They'll get theirs before I'm done
I'm the guy who stayed away
From those whose vengeance targets gay
I could not hate those who loved life
And art and lived life's dancing strive
I'm the guy whose guardians saved
from many perils I'm kept from grave
I feel them here when I'm alone
Though ever lonely in my home
I'm the guy who wrote software
before the Windows were cleaned bare
For a company whose did invent
Bank machines theirs techno sent
I'm the guy whose programmer guru
Namesake forged in history's lure
A philosopher of great renown
His wife and love had matched my own
I'm the guy whose teachers forged
The future's way taught those ignored
If not for them my lust for learning
Disappeared gone without life's yearning
I'm the guy who worked for Bond
The real one and I mean that strong
It might mean name or seeker et al
You know me not nor did I fall
I'm the guy who took this gift
I unified others and filled the rift
Between those young and those of old
I warmed the way for years left cold
I worked with software and increased value
A company's worth and bridged them too
They sold for more from my free work
My effort done next tech firm's lurk
I'm the guy who took his bike
Two hundred kilometres rider's hike
And in the forest two bears alike
Thirty feet from bear paw strike
Up to John's farm did I ride
Seventeen hours my first time
Eleven in the year came next
I strove to better my self test
I'm the guy who walked the street
I fell before seven beat
I bled for hours a side walk cold
My life done my spirit sold
Within the ambulance I came back
I'd learned of death and life's a fact
My mother's tears and love did heal
The attacker's mothers' for whom I feel
My mother wrote a letter strong
To my attackers published on
A daily paper front page told
My mother's grateful heart left cold
A teacher's lesson compared me with
Jesus and Buddha within one breath
Though I lived on and tried my best
Despite your Buddha Jesus test
I played on stage my music song
Almost ten thousand came along
My band mate's talent with my own
My parent's love within me sown
I kept on going composed some more
Before I'd moved on thirty scored
The next calling had my sight
I moved on living endless night
I'm the guy who worked often
Smart I was as I was strong
AS/400 for a bank
we'd lifted high Me and Mark.
Mark's truck my code DB2
four fifty pounds we picked up two
The tech our witness unbelieving
Strong we were as was our thinking
I'm the guy they took five hundred
More than once in cash I'd earned it
Stolen from me I'd given my trust
None came forward and I'd gone bust
Nothing wrong did I do
To deserve such a loss by few
I ate it though and I tried hard
In the end I'd fallen far
I'm the guy whose PC knowledge
Helped a friend with true Bond College
He helped me back, just as fair
He helped me up 'til I took air
Good 'Lain introduced me to a friend
One with paws and one's heart rend
Both to me they mattered most
Two thousand's drink I lived life's toast
Her kiss like few I'd come to miss
Her memory's never gone, that's my gift
But in the end my lost obsession
Left me more without possession
I fell hard and lost my self
Hanging to my mental health
Just barely did I climb to feet
When opportunity did my life meet
Heaven came as did hell too
They made their choice casualties threw
A chance lost by haters' grip
I learned their tricks their powers stripped
Agamemnon made a trip
into the hells, like I too dipped
Just like lost king no voice no sound
Back to my kingdom Odyssey found
Though power isn't what I seek
Wisdom's grandeur - to climb it's peak
To share my stories with the world
To share my time with that one girl
I'm the guy who stood up to
What none had tried and died to do
Power's control upon the lost
By their malice I'd been tossed
I learned their methods one by one
I taught them all to protect those unsung
Until their power wasn't true
By myself I protected you
I'd nought let up, never once
They stole my deeds with their theft hunts
Taking for them what I'd done
Leaving efforts I'd made unsung
Without home I'd lived for eight
Staving off cruelty's hate
When I'd found creative stride
My love for three Witches I do confide
I wrote them up upon my page
They kept me company beauty's sage
They lead me to one Evelyn
Moving on she grew within
Then Stanton found me, Elena too
Dave made me laugh as did few
They kept me company when I was lost
I wrote for them while tempest tossed
They lived their lives within my head
My real life gone in their stead
When home given I was found
Writing them without a sound
I'm the guy who finds a way
You think I'm gone, I'm here to stay
My friends too, real or not
Just like family they can't be bought
I'm the guy that's part of it
Its made of more than just a bit
Its made up of each one of us
This is my part.
Don't take it.
Brian Joseph Johns
Good Things And Inspirations For Characters
My mother, aunts and cousins of whom many are artistic, Yi who I mentioned, Lori, Janice (a friend from FFP), Angela (also from Animation Group/FFP), Louise Lillyfeld (all represent a part of Mila) and Lianne Lanziner (Shaela) and Jennifer O'Neill (Shaela) also had a huge influence on the characters as we've had many mutual heroes together. I've mentioned a lot of women who've gone into rounding out the characters as a whole. Lillian represents a cross section between Mila (in her free loving character) and Nelony (in her love of nature).
As far as Stories From The End, Stanton was based upon a hybrid between Arnold Schwarzenegger and Stephen Lang and a friend of mine who had similar real life training. Foller was a combination of a younger Kevin Kline mixed with Jason Stratham or Jean Claude Van Damme. The Power plant workers like Elena, Dave and Matt are a mix of people that I've known and some not celebrity and some who are. Elena I always pictured as possibly being either a Spanish actress or another strong lead who played well off of the Dave character. She was partly inspired by Lillian and possibly even a coworker named Diana. Dave would best have been played by someone like Steve Carrell or even Zach Galifianakis.
Stanton's role is an important for the role model of the future. One who doesn't sacrifice their determination or compromise their sense of right and wrong, finding their way back onto the path where they take into consideration their power to affect the world from where ever they are in whatever they do. Even his questioning of how to handle the people who are obstacles such as Foller, the sniper team and even those whose dire plans are dismantling the order of the world. How he handles those people will affect not only the present but the future. How to nullify the effects of a century and more of polarization without pacifying the human drive or spirit.
The end of the world club would definitely be a mixture of five people young and old. Ranging from Lance Henricksen, Helena Bonham Carter are two I was thinking.
The other characters of A Lady's Perogative like Yirfir and Jasmer I pictured as someone like Susan Sarandon or Helen Mirren and Jasmer would have been played well by Christopher Walken or another charismatic lead like Pierce Brosnan or Liam Neeson. I initially thought of someone like Gordon Pincent. Some relatives and friends come to mind as well. Mila, Shaela and Nelony are very personal to me and I find it so hard to pin them down to one person. I sometimes think about Milla Jovovich's mannerisms when I write the character, other times she is more like a ballerina, even Rachel McAdams, Lucy Liu or Nathalie Portman and most definitely Bjork and some relatives as well comes to mind though she is so hard to single down to one set of qualities. Mila is very free minded and spirited which is what gives her love such power when she chooses to give it to Barris. Barris I can not for the life of me pin down as well. Hugh Grant and Simon Pegg were inspirations for the mannerisms and wit as well as Doctor Who and Benny Hill.
Shaela I can't pin down as well but she is a strong minded and forceful character with a lot of presence that somehow still has to be vulnerable enough to be protected by a two thousand pound giant cat from another dimension. Mila Jovovich also would make a great Shaela as a start though Shaela's character arc is the opposite of most strong female roles. Its like My Fair Lady where instead of suppressing the parts that make her strong, she accentuates the part that make her sublime in character and stealthy in demeanor without taking from the strength of her personality. We know she's powerful but she'd best learn to keep that power hidden and use her personality, diplomacy and stealth before her power. Sarah Polley also would do a great Shaela portrayal.
Sato, an important character in some of the events to come was inspired by Pat Morita, George Takei (his penchant for humour is scattered throughout Sato's character), Jackie Chan (for sure he'd play such a role with the humour that Sato would deserve) and Joel Grey (whose performance in Remo Williams was close to the kind of character Sato is). Sato is the antithesis of cliche character archetypes such as the ancient sage mentor who is struggling with finding his place in a modern world where the penchant for magic, superstition and folklore is changing and even disappearing.
Nelony is another difficult character to pin down. She is the archetypal Mother Earth, but still in training in way over her head in balancing between the day to day emotional needs of dealing with people and the health of the planet and all of its species. Most of her most interesting qualities are yet to come in the Nelony(s) there are as there are now two. I think about some relatives when I write her and an old friend and everything else just comes from what I perceive of someone who'd suddenly had the weight of the past on their shoulders while they were still in training for life. That's a bit about it.
Testament Of Time which is connected to some of the stories though I won't get into how until later and have more time to focus on a peaceful writing environment. The characters in it are strong roles, especially the Susannia and Margaret.
Heroes Of Our Own is another case of strong lead roles and role models and once again, to break the mould of typecasting of the roles women have played extending them to include genius scientists like Alicia, and motivated and determined characters like Heylyn whose heroism really comes not from her costume but from within. Much of that ground has been broken by shows like CSI and NCIS but it could be taken further.
Thoughts On Life
An automobile is a wonderful work of engineering and design, as is an aeroplane or a boat or any other vehicle that we've designed and built.
The human body is another wonderful design whether you believe that it was created by an engineer in the form of a Diety or an alien, or by sheer chance over a number of generations of an original genome somewhere in the distant past. It is still a marvel of design and creation.
The common factor though with all of those things is that they need a driver to be anything more than what they are and a reason or a motivation to go where there go and do what they do.
Without that "driver" they are but marvels of static beauty. Even with A.I. or path finding and navigation algorithms they still lack desire and curiosity and creativity without a mind to take them to the reaches of their limits.
Brian Joseph Johns
An Ode To Thee
Knight Brether, Samurai Brether, Righteous Wolver Beast, There 'Pon Roland
By Brian Joseph Johns
I dropped to my knees in exhaustion, the foe vanquished as yet another,
though I tried reason first and afore long while before it bore nought.
The blade sank deep 'tween flesh and earth though only flesh yielded.
I thanked my ancestors for the victory and asked forgiveness of his,
though they hissed at my words and spat in my face. I still put flowers
'pon their plot, and learnt of them and their ways, and spread their good
throughout the land, and still they spat. They've forgotten whence from they
came bore to the land if only to experience its' pleasures and rape those
who've nought the strength nor numbers to resist them'n their wiles.
My blade cleened as my doth soul through seeth avenger kempt.
Honour thy Gods as thou doest those who oppose thee, though they art in
differ, as their haerts lay within those who wield their affection, and
that makes us all the like and wirth thyne protection. Lover, loved, the
enemy, the merciful and merciless, blade and mortality. They meet upon the
field and their honour revealed therein upon hidden from us but whisdom.
That is why the moon sings and the blade is curved for it seeks and nought
follows and those who follow its path know that it is truu.
Love is mortal as is life. Death is perfect though only if the life from
which it is drawn hath yielded to the pleasures of love, life, mercy and
dawn as they all seek completion as doth life.
Upon drawing my blade, I knew he was complete and felt glory for his completion.
He'd learnt the way of the warrior yet yielded to the way of the dissolute, and
taught them of others this way so that afore nought long the enemies of that whole
were plentiful and strong and in the shield of as thyne would know to be wrought
of those who'd sought life and found unlife infolds.
My blade speaks for his pain as it does his fraughtful lyearning. None are frea as
those who yearn for it and act 'pon their yearning. My way is of the perfect and
nought the mortal as death is only perfect upon the righteous and upholding of the way.
The waye is perilous as is the path of a tainted bullet fraught with the imperfections
of it's creator, as it ist barrel, chamber and cylinder all. For it shoots with your
haert and only shoots when it is perfect, as doth the blade fall to thyne end.
A Quiet Sunset For Us And Wii (Twelve Years Later)
While working in the west end of Toronto in 2001 I wrote this and poem and several others eventually losing them and being forced to rewrite them here. This is my best reconstruction at several of them with hidden clues that acknowledge each of those poems.
The title comes from the shortest poem that I ever wrote. It was written in 2002 and goes:
There is no I in us or we.
[Addition: June 8, 2014
The poem didn't mean that we disappear in the crowd or collective as I am a strong believer in individuality. It meant that when in such a group we don't lose our individuality but our consideration should be as much for others as it is for ourselves in sharing. ]
A year or two later Nintendo released the Wii. I guess they proved me wrong. Nintendo is a real innovator and a great company that I've admired for a long time.
I watched the sunrise quietly,
Up 'til noon and on til three.
Across the sky fold was it swept,
creeping gently while I wept.
When I'm alone I'm not afraid
Though you keep me in a cage
Poke me with your poking stick
Test me out. Measure my wit.
I'm alive, of that I'm sure.
You seem to need me for your cure.
Your boredom wrought from life unused,
my vigor for it you've pursued.
There are people who will steal,
your life and being, your free will.
When you let them, they will take,
everything you've let them break.
Defend it all with your love.
We're given gifts all from above.
How you see that is your take,
in the end it's us at stake.
Two are one and one are wii,
if this is truth though can it be?
A timeless voyage have I sojourned,
another bridge that I have burned?
A thief once did come to my life,
and took away by point of knife.
A love of illusion, an inner wealth,
my love of life, my mental health.
I told some people about this plight,
they turned and said "that's life".
And though no answers did I find,
the sun went down and I was blind.
It's all a market, don't waste your time,
with those who sell what's not their rhyme.
Their only audience lured by confusion,
The real magic is through art's illusion.
There's something that I need to ask you to share with me my friend.
You. And I won't forget your contact with me from way over there.
I miss you though I never really knew you.
I feel like it was yesterday, though my age did jump.
Brian Joseph Johns
Copyright 2002, 2013 Brian Joseph Johns
Just This
Your eyes lead to struggle though it's nought a faulty find
for if you weren't trying I would say that you are blind
I've seen it before but its nought that you're unkind
It's just that false pretention leaves impression far behind
Brian Joseph Johns
Copyright 2002, 2013 Brian Joseph Johns
Her Words Can Be Felt (Haiku 2)
She smiles and looks
I notice and return glance
I was not her choice
The silence speaks words
I listen and wait for her
Her words can't be heard
Silence is not golden
It cannot be heard by us
You're the only one
There is no us just
You and I but We are Us
And we combined
Their words sting sometimes
I salve the hurt with your love
I don't hurt any more
It is just a trick
My heart tells me it is real
My love's a fierce beast
It's tender but bold
Mess it up and it's deadly
It protects our love
It never hurts you
You are free and so is love
Beasts protect freedom
You choose my pure heart
I've been waiting a long time
You've been there all along
My fear is nought pure
It yields before my courage
You've learnt my faith true
I'm nought lone with her
Her tender kiss at distance
Her words can be felt
Dreams: Believing Is Seeing 2012
By Brian Joseph Johns
For foolishness and what it seems
It often fires the fuel of dreams
It doesn't take much if you try
To touch the ground; to reach the sky
We sail its waves all through the day
At night we break it all away
Its sturdy when we hold on tight
Its fringes furled with aether' slight
Beyond its shores we come alive
Without bounds whence do we thrive
Where shapes become and come undone
Potential manifest in the eyes of years
Coincidence and circumstance
The shaping of a notion
Visions seen all through mind's eye:
The cerebral quantum ocean
The Butterfly Dragon
A mythical fairy tale written for the story "Heroes Of Our Own" by Brian Joseph Johns
assumed mythos origins for purposes of the story:
Far East, Norwegian, Scandinavian, Polynesian, Aboriginal North American
themes: defending grace, beauty, artistry, the vulnerable (not about gold diggers as per comment)
This tale is about a large field where many creatures lived
and to the things that lived there the field was their entire world.
All of the creatures that lived there lived there in harmony,
and some were more dangerous than others.
There were the ants, the worms, the hornets, the snakes, the mice, the birds and the butterflies.
They had no enemies and the field would provide all of the food that they needed to grow up and have children starting the whole cycle over again.
It was very peaceful there until one day the collectors happened upon this field.
A very vile group of collectors whose cruelty was without equal would collect the most beautiful specimens of each of the creatures and keep them trapped while they kept them inside of a jar and tormented them.
The cruel collectors would show up and claim one of the most beautiful of each of the creatures from the field young and old alike every time, taking them away never to be seen again where they were kept in a jar while they were tormented and exploited for the benefit of the collectors.
The creatures had a meeting and every one of them that lived in the field showed up.
The creatures tried to figure out what they were going to do about these cruel collectors.
The mice said: The snakes can bite them.
The snakes replied: They're too big.
The worms said: The birds can eat them.
To which the birds replied: They're too big.
The ants said: The hornets can sting them.
To which the hornets said: They're too big.
The birds said: The mice can scare them.
The mice replied: They're too big.
The butterflies said: We can stop them.
To which the rest of the creatures laughed asking:
What ever can a butterfly do?
All you have is grace, beauty and artistry?
The butterflies left the meeting feeling worthless and like they could not help because they could not do anything but be graceful, beautiful, artistic and vain while all the other creatures could at least do something.
One night the butterflies got together and decided to make a cocoon.
When they made it they included an antenna from the ants,
a whisker from the mice, a feather from the birds,
a stinger from the hornets, the ring from one of the worms,
and the scale from one of the snakes, and a pair of their wings.
Then they left it to grow and grow it did.
One day the cruel collectors returned to the field to collect one of each of the rest of the creatures.
Each of the creatures was put in the jar as the next one was collected.
When the collectors went to take a butterfly the already humongous cocoon opened.
Out came a ferocious Dragon.
The Dragon had the wings of a butterfly so it was beautiful.
It's butterfly's wings had the feathers of a bird so it could fly.
It had the scales of a snake so its skin was tough.
It had the antennas of an ant so it could read minds.
It had the whiskers of a mouse, so it could sense danger from afar.
It had the rings of a worm, so it could heal very quickly,
And It had the stinger of a hornet so it was deadly.
The Dragon said to the cruel collectors:
You've taken one each of the creatures of the field.
You may keep each one but for a price.
For the mouse, I will take your left leg.
For the worm, I will take your right leg.
For the ant I will take your left arm.
For the bird I will take your right arm.
For the snake I will take your neck
and for the butterfly I will take your head.
The collectors dropped all of the creatures they'd collected that day and tried to run before they were stopped again by the Dragon.
The Dragon spoke:
For all of the creatures that you've already taken I will take your lives.
The collectors cried:
No, no! We shall return them at once.
The collectors returned a short time later with all of the creatures they'd collected and set them free though the creatures had been tormented to no end and were emotionally frail and distraught.
The Dragon then asked the returned creatures whether the collectors should be allowed to go free or to pay the price to which the creatures replied...
After the creatures had made their decision the creatures of the field never laughed at the butterflies from that day forth.
A Question?
by Brian Joseph Johns 2011
What's stronger than steel,
yet lighter than a feather?
Dedicated enough
to brave any weather.
Heals most wounds,
with only a little.
Yet under its pressure,
can make your heart brittle.
It lasts through the ages,
yet rarely tarnished.
An unending feast,
with every garnish.
Brings people to their knees,
an expression of beauty.
Opens some to tears,
despite courage and duty.
No Chaperon Needed
by Brian Joseph Johns 2011
Some they claim to know your love,
Some they'd put chains to a dove.
Some they claim they know what's best,
But only to benefit their behest.
Neglect is not a better feature,
Balance is a better teacher.
Knowing when to help is fine,
one's grip is best not all the time.
Enough's enough, now let things flow,
you constrict that which you don't let grow.
Experience teaches without a hand,
To learn one's own does wisdom grand.
Maker
by Brian Joseph Johns 2012
To use words to make a shape but never make a sound.
To change the palette of the sky but never leave the ground.
This potential within us each but often never found.
A universal question to each spirit, body bound.
Most afraid to ask themselves: what is our real nature?
Is the world around us fixed to nomenclature?
Or can we create that which we've never known?
When we give it name has seed been `ready sown?
A Life Well Lived Haiku
by Brian Joseph Johns 2012
Crawling awkwardly,
hard to balance on two wheels
the first few years
Running with a stick,
too many to stop them all
he shoots he scores
Numbers too many,
drawing on the side of pages
homework is dull
The first windsor knot,
too much to do in one day
a busy graduation
Six comes early,
effort feels like a dead end
the rent gets paid
One hundred and ten,
nobody will know the difference
another speeding ticket
Untouched plates on the table,
its difficult to break the silence
our first date
A knock at the door,
She smiles through the curtain
a sleepless night
So many people,
hands through pockets searching
he lost the ring
She thinks I gave up,
feathers amidst the laughter
the pillow breaks
Hands clasped together,
a few moments in the years
we broke the kiss
In many pieces,
tears that sting those two eyes
a broken heart
As quick as it came
descending through the air,
a quiet sunset
Few have grasped,
it leaves before you know
a life well lived
Yonder
by Brian Joseph Johns 2011
None can you prepared be known,
for this thing not is just word sown,
Its nothing that ever can be sold,
Nor useful is it to be told.
Some embrace it, with return,
others neglect but do not learn,
To some this is just a pretense,
Keep reading and it will all make sense.
For travellers had their seeker's yield,
yet those who fear their feet are sealed,
minds lost inside to their own dark,
souls in mid-drift without their spark.
Do you taste tears when your soul seeks?
a mighty river dammed to creek,
all is lost just to forestall,
potential cost is none too small.
Is this not story for all who peer,
into the depths nought read by seer,
to wonder why won't fill a purse,
but not to fills the soul with curse.
Be here when here and there when there,
Don't strip your world, she's her own to bear.
Your dreams be yours and my dreams mine,
This journey's only friend is time.
Look all around and you'll see,
to venture forth that is to be.
Stride by stride our purpose found,
No longer by our shackles bound.
for this thing not is just word sown,
Its nothing that ever can be sold,
Nor useful is it to be told.
Some embrace it, with return,
others neglect but do not learn,
To some this is just a pretense,
Keep reading and it will all make sense.
For travellers had their seeker's yield,
yet those who fear their feet are sealed,
minds lost inside to their own dark,
souls in mid-drift without their spark.
Do you taste tears when your soul seeks?
a mighty river dammed to creek,
all is lost just to forestall,
potential cost is none too small.
Is this not story for all who peer,
into the depths nought read by seer,
to wonder why won't fill a purse,
but not to fills the soul with curse.
Be here when here and there when there,
Don't strip your world, she's her own to bear.
Your dreams be yours and my dreams mine,
This journey's only friend is time.
Look all around and you'll see,
to venture forth that is to be.
Stride by stride our purpose found,
No longer by our shackles bound.
Each step closer takes us two,
toward that place just out of view.
Though keep your sight right by your sides,
for that's where every treasure hides.
We're here to sing, here to dance,
follow your bliss and take a chance.
Walk forward proudly, be your best,
Hosts we are as well as guest.
Arrived then have we at the door,
this voyage done, though I know there's more.
I turn the handle with a pause,
and open slowly, gazed to beyond.
For we all have laughed, all have cried,
We have smiled, and we have sighed.
To love but once is enough to know,
Into the yonder we will go...
Now And Then
By Brian Joseph Johns 2003
What is now was then,
what was then is nought.
What is to be and when,
are now what's just thought.
Living in the past,
makes harbour for regret.
The good things you remember,
are the future you beset.
You I Sought
By Brian Joseph Johns 2012
I did what I could, I had no choice
Did you get my call, did you hear my voice
I gave it to you then as I've given it now
Can you even hear me? If not then tell me how.
It's been many years and I've searched high and low
I've given up so much just to try and let you know
Though time has hardened up my shell to spikes and then to stone
Inside I've still the same stout heart though lonely and alone
You may not think that we're alike or that we're meant to be
But I believe I've known your soul for most of eternity
This isn't chance nor is it fate, I think you know that too
The first time that I saw you is when I really knew
Nothing ever happens if you don't take a chance
If you should choose not to then you have made your stance
And every path we'd followed that lead us to this place
Washed away in a rain of tears fell from your beauty's grace
And though I'd be without you, I still would want you well
As my hope doesn't perish nor does my affection quell
For what I have you given as it's roots do take hold
It will by much get better as we surely do grow old
I gave it to you then as I've given it now
Can you even hear me? If not then tell me how.
It's been many years and I've searched high and low
I've given up so much just to try and let you know
Though time has hardened up my shell to spikes and then to stone
Inside I've still the same stout heart though lonely and alone
You may not think that we're alike or that we're meant to be
But I believe I've known your soul for most of eternity
This isn't chance nor is it fate, I think you know that too
The first time that I saw you is when I really knew
Nothing ever happens if you don't take a chance
If you should choose not to then you have made your stance
And every path we'd followed that lead us to this place
Washed away in a rain of tears fell from your beauty's grace
And though I'd be without you, I still would want you well
As my hope doesn't perish nor does my affection quell
For what I have you given as it's roots do take hold
It will by much get better as we surely do grow old
Vigil Of Constancy
By Brian Joseph Johns 2012
There is something from nothing, as nothing is something,
To measure one’s worth while they toil is mirth,
As it is to spit in the very essence from whence you came.
Any can look on, hidden in the grove or in their numbers
Casting stones without signature, words without their face
Attacking the fallen, as cowardice has many friends, but none true.
Misdirection is the friend of the fiend, and finds only the like
The trail ever leading to some distant source of ignorance kempt
There is no shame in keeping thee against this stirge;
For it is the thief of innocence!
As it is to spit in the very essence from whence you came.
Any can look on, hidden in the grove or in their numbers
Casting stones without signature, words without their face
Attacking the fallen, as cowardice has many friends, but none true.
Misdirection is the friend of the fiend, and finds only the like
The trail ever leading to some distant source of ignorance kempt
There is no shame in keeping thee against this stirge;
For it is the thief of innocence!
Is This Resolve?
By Brian Joseph Johns 2012
In time I've found out what it means to be moved by nothing and still by all
It only takes forever to climb but just a moment when you fall
I remember everything about her kiss but nothing of her name
Every colour in her eyes though she may not feel the same
You see, I left myself in the past, somewhere in the mind
And though I've kept on searching, its now that I can't find
Voices are just echoes, those who've long gone by
Tear drops turned to deserts, rivers long run dry
I once put name, within verse, to know if some could see
A revelation became revolution and many became free
Some had found that they could see just through their own belief
And others in their waiting found that time was their true thief
To watch the sun for answers, is an exercise in strife
Sometimes we are reflections, in a mirror that is life
Living in the past, makes harbour for regret
The good things that you remember, are the future you beset
I remember everything about her kiss but nothing of her name
Every colour in her eyes though she may not feel the same
You see, I left myself in the past, somewhere in the mind
And though I've kept on searching, its now that I can't find
Voices are just echoes, those who've long gone by
Tear drops turned to deserts, rivers long run dry
I once put name, within verse, to know if some could see
A revelation became revolution and many became free
Some had found that they could see just through their own belief
And others in their waiting found that time was their true thief
To watch the sun for answers, is an exercise in strife
Sometimes we are reflections, in a mirror that is life
Living in the past, makes harbour for regret
The good things that you remember, are the future you beset
I once told a distant friend, that there's no I in us or we
But it turned us into something that we were not meant to be
To gain them by the weight from peers is not to form your own
Ideals you have to fight for often end up set in stone
A golden idol to one whose path was set with pain
A chance that others' creation will someday yield the same
A smile upon my face, though too long have I crawled
For I alone can see the perfection in it all.
Wise Advice
By Brian Joseph Johns 2014
Hate can be used by some people to steer the outcome of your future path, to steal your past and swap theirs to yours and to provoke reaction at the least opportune of times.
What you do might leave your person find way to another
Good and bad its up for grabs don't let it get discovered
Some know this trick and transfer bad theirs to another person
Right when you're clean and empty's when your situation worsens
Was it you or was it them? determination's question
The difference between good and bad defines your true redemption
For your good deeds you'd keep them likely as you would your treasure
As for your bad ones drop them not they're repaid good by measure
Some use hate to make you bad enough to act with malice
And if you do that's more your load filled draining your gold chalice
Don't follow theirs avoid their hate stead keep love in your purpose
But if you do then steer it good to protect true love's blindness
Guard Your Treasure
By Brian Joseph Johns 2014
Guarding one's treasure does not mean hoarding and not sharing. It means be guarded about with whom and how you share it. Some might lay claim by right that's none theirs to take or some might lay claim despite their effort's lack they make. You should always share it abundantly with your love (a spouse, your love interest) as you do your love for that person to one and the same.
A person makes or does out of inspiration
Doing so makes it part of their creation
It started when they saw or felt their first sensation
Feeling others create their prior motivation
Deeming whether they're the source is theft of action
Gaming it to find as such is just redaction
For some use hate in game to steer the final outcome
Players tested - judges wrested from their last opinion
. . .
Building hate to change your team
Hate's what they give to steal your dream
If you buy hate then you've dropped
Your good deeds prior progress stopped
They'll watch your good deeds fill before
They hatch the plan they have in store
To milk the cow or crack the safe
Until you're done and set to grave
The most effort that they'll make
Is building hate just for hate's sake
Nothing more paid for your good
While they take more than they should
Keep love safe, protect it well
Or in hate's name they'll give you hell
It's their drug but thin as air
Yet ears can't hide what you can't bare
And when you feel it coming on
Stand your ground and keep love strong
Yet if you fall you're not yet done
protect your love until you've won
What Time Took
By Brian Joseph Johns 2014
Time took some numbers but not all
A nine a six and nine did fall
The first part jumbled round a bit
The second four wide fill the fit
A zero there somewhere within
Another like that none too thin
A five there too but not eleven
Making it the final seven
Too Long
By Brian Joseph Johns
Is it wrong to long for touch
Or is wrong to want too much
I know of her but not her face
Another could not take her place
To travel years without this breath
And not to feel it 'pon my chest
For that's the best place does it feel
Wrapped to her body makes it real
All written works on this page © Copyright 2001, 2003, 2011, 2012, 2014 Brian Joseph Johns
Copyright © 2012 Brian Joseph Johns
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