Poems from 2017

VSS VPM

These are the poems that I have written this year, so far, in case of interest.

*DISCLAIMER: I am a Catholic, but my writing may have hues or points that are, by
accident, not perfectly Catholic in orthodoxy. So please, take my writing with a grain of
salt, and if you are confused about something, ask a priest who has had proper
formation.

"Bass Prayer"

The man walked around the pond in the heat of the day
The water was hot as it gets in the summer
When the blazing orb is highest in the sky
He under his round dock of straw
Me in the water under my long hat of wood
Seeking protection from her blazing majesty
Waiting for a morsel to fall through the slits in my hat
It was cool there
Was it cool under the straw dock?

The man returned to where he started

Then I saw it
A small afternoon snack of worm or something
Just right for an old one like myself
Who is unable to obtain big meals anymore
But then, I am past fry producing
And will not see another spring, so my needs have dwindled like my prey

I grabbed and felt it sting me

A sting that I had felt before several springs ago
An invisible hand began to drag me to shore
Just as it had before those springs ago
Last time, I was young, I fought with all my youthful strength
But now I am old and my fight has decreased as my wisdom has increased
I let the invisible force pull me to shore
I lay there looking up as he looks at me
He has an eye like mine

He bends down and lifts me by my jaw

It doesnt hurt as much as last time when I fought so hard
My jaw a big handle for a body that has shrunk with age
Now I am in an alien world

Surrounded by air but suffocating

The only water is inside of me
I feel myself drawing near to eternal coolness
And then, I am back in the water under my old dock hat
Drinking in the coolness and wetness
My teeth sand his thumb

Then I am in the water desert called air again

Another man is there holding a small black box as a barrier
Between my eye and his
The men marvel at the size of my head
And the meagerness of my old emancipated body
Out of proportion for a youth
Yet fitting for old age

Now back into the water again

I give the thumb one last sandpaper kiss
And swim slowly away

I will not see another spring

Will I even see tomorrow?
I am exhausted from the miniscule resistance I offered
I am destined to become the raw material
For making new turtles or raccoons

Or maybe the worms will take me on the longer route

I live with some now
But when I quit eating and swimming
More will come to the feast

The hand that pulled me ashore

Under his straw dock
In his eyes
I saw a hope that went beyond worms
I pray to my Creator
A prayer of gratitude
For not knowing the Creator
Had greater plans for my catcher than for me
That He had planned eternal life for that old gray head under the straw dock
A life I was not destined to know

If I could hatch more than bass thoughts

I would have prayed my Creator became a fish for me
And let himself be eaten by a turtle or a raccoon
That I may live in eternal spring
I fear
If he did not do my bidding
I might eat the forbidden apple of envy
Ruin my unique bass perfection
Thus destroying the gift my Creator gave me
Would He forgive me as he did the one under the straw dock?

!
Real

The day you saved my heart, giving it hope

Towards wisdom you then leaned, then lighting a fire
Which I took away and carried, impelled by my noble desire:
Determined to find Him at the end, I ascended the cruel slope

Of circumstance, for there it was, on that worldly tight-rope -

That He spoke, I was sure, to my need; to which I aspire
To, though unknowingly, make Him in my image, myself a liar
Yet unable to erase the wild thirst to see Him; for Him I still hope

In darkness, blinded, for a time, to heal

The poor and forgotten wisdom (the real comes first)
Are candles to the fire of hope relit

For much more real's the rest my heart doth feel,

When 'stead of hanging**, I close my eyes at last
As I lay my tired head on the poignant memory of your prelates.

(C) 2017 Patrick Johnson

**By "hanging" here I am not referring to suicide, but to "hanging on the chain of
circumstance" in a way that is not human enough. Likewise by "close my eyes at last" I
am not referring to suicide either, but rather to entering into a wisdom that is deeper
and more stable than that which can be found on the chain of circumstance. There is
some idea of "death" though, in the sense of an intellectual sort of death from one way
of thinking to another, a major change. But since this change would be major, I have
resolved not to try to make it until I have more ecclesial support for it. Furthermore, the
stance that I have outlined in this poem is not final, and is subject to change.

"The Grass is Greener"

The grass is greener on the other side

Whispers my pricked conscience,

As You pass by again, necessarily, and put my heart on the fence

Resulting in a forever restless Cain game of seek and hide

And so every few weeks, I make retreat

Praying and thinking and thinking and praying

Letting the heart be grateful for a time, the will strong through fraying

And crash-landing, if wrong, on a journey I must now complete

Or else, I deny my sin, deny the cracks

And see only one shining city, a rainbow

Hidden in white; only white do I then know

And go through, a bastard at heart though

All this you see, and say follow me to me,

I have to move slow to get you where you will always be.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"Losses Outweighed"

Grown up disappointed, our fellow rich young man

Denounces all gold he worked so hard to gain,
Betrayed by illusions, his attachments to gold caused pain upon pain;

By shedding things sold, he returns instead to God's most perfect plan

That water women who had five previous husbands,

Now again espoused by one sharp look from Jesus lover,
He claims her heart, her mind, and her body as she wanders

According to orders, her thirst he aligned with his dozens

That pope who God called Satan, humbled

Directed where to go by key belt upheld
Might instead spearhead attack on gates of hell*

Until the real Satan's empire crumbles.

So they who lost their will, their flesh, their things,

Become the heirs of God, of sight, and wings.

(C) 2017 Patrick Johnson

*I heard this view once, that the Church will not only defend against hell but
attack hell, but I do not know if it is true. Pretty badass, though.
Home (at the Dome)"

Half-free enlightened friendly place to lay

My head, my hand upon the porcupine of truth

As it oozes out, the Zoe of my youth,

But leaves footprint belonging to the Sky -

Take up our crowns at lunch, we dual verse what is right,

Eating like kings - please pass the apple juice -

Common noble grace mixed in throughout sparring hearts on to truce -

When other soul encountering, we are, in her sparkling eyes:

Looking back at me, you smile, laugh smile and point up

Dropped images, asking us dryly about the cup

Since light heres just a shadow, outlined by the Sun,

This homey hold, an awesome place, though finishing as obvious pun,

For half-light yields to vision perfect when this home thats failing is undone,

Our flaws let go for eternity, as let down winds up home

(C) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"Transfigured"

Selfish and rebellious, we climbed up the way but fell short,

Too much civil strife leading to despicable self,

Unhappy, and not able to be good, we fell and felt

Too thirsty to be forgiven the life we unduly abort

And stopping, we took out our maps with a frown,

Wearily debating which way of all to go, each old one of us

Through exhaustion settling on one point, on which we fuss

And fall back and losing full sense of left right down and up

Until, just then, Ah! we sigh as Your glory is lifted high:

JESUS, the Good Love of King God which transfigures us where

JESUS, the Full Truth Alive revealing All Being here -

With hands stretched out, every mans expected Adonai -

Opened our eyes, and saved by hidden glory,

The sacraments you gave still hide the whole love story.

(C) 2017 Patrick Johnson

Run Away

You touched my arm, and my heart leapt up, in love

For a brief flash, but then away, away

You went, and touched his arm, as you sway

Under movement of spirit, my love now sad to prove

By testing, refined and sent again away,

Seeking a band-aid, I wander like Cain,

Unknowing Him for which I have been made, and He slain,

My Sun lost in a fit of eye rain

Which clears up, though, with a timely promise

That Kernel Desired will wipe away each tear;

While Pops farmer heart points out disturbances, stretched to tear

My eye, but growing ears for moving Fathers love, so wise.

Still burned as ardent lover, I convert to being one of Someones sons,

And run away in highest love-life kick-started by what Love lacked begun.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"The Servant of Goodness"

Be good, alright? So sayeth the soul, as it taketh stock

Of evils for mans salvation. To save it reckoneth

Means to free from evil, and thus it beckoneth

To wipeth each tear from our eye, like some impassioned doc -

Thy Kingdom Come! a battle cry, waging war,

Remembering One who cameth before, to heal

And exercise Gods finger; while all the seeking real

Cries out for that Happiness which is the Absolute most most Far.

But touching gently your collar, white and black,

No greater love you sigheth, and stifleth a smile,

No follower of Christ rejects his cross, so reconcile

To the ethic of taking this thick wood across your back

And thus you sheatheth your sword but crush the serpent,

The roots of evil cast out by hurt Servant fervent.

(C) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"The One"

As you came to earth, you smiled and said,

"Good-bye" - for I was to set sail for Mars;
My ship: On Truth I Seek to Lay My Head,
A one-manned ship, destined to go quite far.

My mission, once landed on quiet Mars, to seek

The well-sought flower: "the one" -
But before I climbed to her hidden peak,
By "loneliness," my heart, I was undone.

Let down, weary, and lost for words,

I bawled and bawled and bawled,
My thoughts approaching the futile and absurd -
My ship back home through some time portal crawled:

Made child; You passed; I saw; "Come with;" I did -

And found a garden of friends the one had hid.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

Whats the big deal?

I called you Catholic, and then you said, no fun

Since that is what some think. Besides, you said
Of all those things that pass through my pretty head,
After all of it, you only totally care about One.

But good sir, I cried, remembering why God died:

From Adam to Moses, sin reigned, and now it dont!
From slaves to men, remade by grace paid up front
On calvary, by that One who made all his bride

But shaking, dismally, you said, its not sufficient

What good is there then to be forgiven, if still
comes death to every man; even He way up the hill.
While Vianney whispered: yet life eternal, you take the benefit.

But shaking like you then, like you I pointed out, the Catholic most certainly lives!
For full truth marks good way to full heart - so really man, what gives?

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"Yeah Sure"

If I tell you straight the purpose of your life,

Who you are to be, to do, and to become;
You may smile, and say okay and then succumb
To a long existence reacting, without intent, like wildlife.

If I told you what is justice, and good conduct;

The common good for self and neighbor, both -
Amen youd say, and go on serving moneys growth
Without end, so you have your own thick buck

And if turning I embraced you and said once more

What makes for happiness between us and between each and each
Instead of misery and pain, sweet love to preach
A nod youd give, then go on breaking hearts, destroying every rapport;

But if instead I open towards you flaming eyes that lean

Towards Him who knows but hides behind; then you touch Being.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"Stomping on serpents"

Amen! Take my whole life! And so it went

When crying with Marys faith I said that first Amen,
To follow the faith of the fathers were we sent,
To tread upon serpents with feet made of lead.

But soon as I learned how to think for myself

That serpent lisped in dont listen anybody else;
Your life is for you, and youd best pride yourself
And thus hung he high the word free on hells doorbell.

And just when I started to notice good truth,

And that Im a sinner that Christ Savior has let loose,
That crafty con serpent lisped through glaring rotten tooth,
You best look down again; your God does not love you.

Mary! I cried out, and turned, looking up with her towards Him:
To Gods Good Love I bow down, to become His son, my cup filled to the brim.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"Fidget Spinner"

Despite our colleges, advanced placement tests and coffee,

Most pleasing youth know not which way to go,
When sticky sin disintegrates us to confused cacophony:
Beans in a blender, shredded with six thousand althoughs

Its then a Fathers firm hand reaches out,

Grabs soul by the heart and speaks inside
The ruins of the real spread aimlessly all about,
With one unsevered voice: But what is it, for what do you sigh?

And before a word en finds it way to lip,

Unshackled bridegroom-Sun sheds light on all thats made:
Phototropic real re-lit in fierce burning grip
Of Free Saint from Some Current of Christ-Forrests Open Glade.

Its then, gathered to, we continue the Trinitys symphony,

Together singing One Congealed Life for all humanity.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"When you went away"

When I met you on the shores of the Jordan,

And you asked me what it is that I seek,
How could I have known the depths ordained,
The joys I did not even know how to speak;

But every day with you was an adventure,

As every preconception fell from fishing
Things to re-entered whole world, as we ventured
Into the beggars songs of all human wishing;

And when I watched you go away, far too soon

Remembering commands and teachings some,
I knew it then, too late, it seemed; I your son,
But now orphaned, forsook, and numb.

But smiling, you last said to me, go out to all the world,
And I knew then, and know it now, that I am but Your continued herald.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

My Mothers Eyes

I see you seeing me with ready concern,

Eyes staring out from chest starved for compassion,
Eyes poised on the instant for an about turn,
To go through thick or thin, through any passion;

And looking into souls window, I read the cry:

You who suffer so, spare me a smile,
that wipes away each tear that tears our eyes
And on this cry for hope I dwell for some while,

Until I find your curious sort of quest:

May I share and slate a share of thy pain?
As weight of wavy love reaches its crest,
And gives a drink from which no saint would refrain.

And as I cry out, yes, you are my mom!

I lead us both towards our eternal home.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"A Mother's Love"

A call to love with arms of love is written,

Enfleshed in breasts of every human woman,
That having spent those arms in dutiful exertion,
Returns to think of what can be begotten:

I gave you life, a mother's voice has admitted,

And how I love you so to gift you, human
Growing into special kind of woman,
A person, who in book of life is written,

A child, tethered to my central temple,

We share one body, share a womb begotten,
That body sending soldier nodes to heal
Like flesh of Christ, communion more than mental,
Wields crook of staff though crossed by love forgotten,
Sinking onward towards Father of the real.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"The Two Philosophies"

There's two philosophies present in my mind,

The one keeps searching for some sweet urgent sign
That mirrors the heart, unwound; the other confined
To real's boundaries that mark out an ethical love refined.

The first, my Love, the Source of all my cheer,

Admits humbly, "You know already what you need here,"
The latter governs most all that happens in the human sphere,
And details rules on further love with minds that are now more freed.

But sticking to signs of Him, I lose security,

Misunderstanding, enmeshed in Mystery's sinking imperfecty,
While cold focus on what's right in ethical purity,
Misses the magic of Him who knows me perfectly.

So speaking through signs, or revealing through reality,

The cross of Christ chains friendship to ecclesial sanity.

(C) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"The Choice"

Which choice of man has po'er to mete all good?

Which fruitful yes is lord of all human choices,
But this: to choose the good preferred to evil shouldn't's,
And shun what's wrong, and to love with passion what my heart voices?

And doing right, and not what's wrong gives way

To be filled, at last, with what will make me smile,
But smile's cause is given by way ingrained
As Path to joy is sown same for every human child:

Recognize and enter, sayeth the signs,*

As like gives way to like: cooperation,
As I opt into deep reality's winds,
To the benefit of my every human occupation.

With thirst for right, but paralyzed inside,

I let the saints right point me right to Christ!

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

*This is a Lord of the Rings reference. "Speak, friend, and enter." See <https://
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DgHCM68KkPY>
"Who am I? (part one)"

A question that the eyes of children ask:

"Who am I?" persists through all their tasks,
"I see an other order that forms into things,
And spits me out with dirty wings...

"Clip, clip, I am a human being,

That is the most evident thing I'm seeing,
And human being are made to do what's good,
If nourished properly by the right kind of food."

And silenced by a thousand fluctuations,

I'm haunted by the various sweet vibrations,
Until I find that voice inside my side,
That quivers as it articulates my "I" -

A child who grows by each step taken in faith,

A spine solidified by what we believe by faith.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"The Go-Between"

To know for oneself

The passion of Christ
Who, for us, became man,
Who, for us, came into sight --

The Ladder of heaven,

The Spine of the earth,
The Dam for the damned,
The Hound of the search --

No one need be alone;

His grace reaches all.
No one need despair,
When into sin one falls.

And when question on question,

All shot through with desire,
No matter which faith one is confessin',
Crossless Christ or burning bush's Fire,

Or other first crush

Become an obsession...
What we cannot find,
The Lord freely gives us rest in.

For CHRIST is the one

Who saves a million failed launches
By coming to earth
For all those who search for Him.

And when I turn towards You, my Lord,

I beg You to make good on your Word:
To walk before me, to be my Night-Light,
To bring Your Dad's kingdom:

That I too may love others, as You loved me, right.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"A Circle of Life"

That we may have life,

And have it to the full,
Draws all the fishes
To the boat's hull

For this, and that,

And this too, what we want,
We arrive -
At the baptismal fount.

And when we've walked

A thousand miles,
Served by Christ,
The Lord of Sighs,

He turns and smiles,

And says:

"You too, my son,

can give others life,
Night-life-light here,
And hope for eternal sunshine,

"Whether as
A Catholic priest,
Lifting up
My paschal Feast,

"Which streams with grace

And power and love,
Poured out eternally
From a God of Love

"Or as a layman or religious,

Carrying out
Your duties and whatever sufferings
That come about"

So as we do
What God said we must,
And do it with
Perfect love and trust

-With eye for red flags

That say, "not God"
So that my feet
On Level Earth may trod-

We/I complete His afflictions

We/I carry it on,
We/I mother the Church,
We/I make her go on...

It's beautiful, Lord,

The circle of life,
Alternating between
Joys and strife

That each may have

Not just life but giving
And so I breathe
O2 in thanksgiving:

Mary, link my life with life,

And my prayers for the living,
Let the fires of love burn up the "night,"
But chastely, with hope for all of the living.

And whether each fish is eaten

Or thrown back,
Each can mount
A holy counter attack:

By living and warning

One's brothers and sisters,
Carrying on with wounds
From fisherman's sissors,

Or by drowning in air,
Filleted to the bone,
For a family's feast,
Slayed on the boat ride home.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"What Came Before"

Today the eyes of this human being opened

To see what's hidden in mud:
That (which though in the tainted rat race,
Within broke games of early childhood,
In the boring lessons from teachers, not a few,
And all the various human arts expressing personhood),
That in this game we call "the world"
We learn to know and love,
To exercise our interior strength,
To choose, and will, and live...
So though the final end be off-
Centered to what can't sustain, yet
It's not all a worthless waste
Not all a wasted pain,
For when the Lord called James and John,
These lowly fishermen,
He called them with those holy words,
"Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men."
So Lord please when you look at us,
Don't just see a hopeless cause,
But see the life that lives and breathes,
The pre-reqs that give us stronger knees,
That when we turn to What is Right,
We will do so full of a strong fight!

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"Rebuilding Out of Love"

I love the Lord, you know I do,

But since I'm flimsy, since I'm broke,
Since I've spent all my human freedom,
What kind of friend can I freely be?
Is there anything left to give in me?

But when you say, "Hush, there is still time,

Put your dirty hand in mine,
I'll heal your freedom, mister sir,
From childhood to a jar of myrrh."

That's when I smile, and say, "Thank you mom!

You know my desire, you know its strong,
With you I hope for steady relationships, long,
And the ability to sing in human sing-song."

For by nature we are royalty,

You and me and every person in-between,
With mind and will and everything else,
Princes and princesses, each and every human self.
The image on earth of the God we adore,
And with healed faculties from God, we can go very far.

For in love, and for in hope,

For in faith, and much more, so...

With eyes welled up in tears,

I turn to Jesus present here,
And ask, "Please Lord, another chance,
That one day You and I may together, dance."

(c) Patrick Johnson 2017

"The rule of love"

When Jesus went upon the cross,

The old liturgical law he overthrew,
But through his life and teaching and death,
The moral law, he renewed.

But sometimes, hypocrites that we are,

We get it kinda backward,
We pay our tithe of mint and cumin,
But through all moral virtue to the wind.

In any case, what is the point

Of all these moral ethics,
Rules on rules about my life,
And how I should better live it?

"But son, the laws are for your good,

Your utter happiness!"
I hear the voice reassure me inside,
the beacon in my chest.

And the best part of my heart's happy art,

Is that leaning towards best part,
The loving heart to heart,
As I lean my head on His heart, and say:

"When I am older and I'm stronger,

I'll be a better friend;
For all mankind, You are the Only One,
So let us make amends."

And turning back to what I do,

I find a human truth:
That its better to love and lose,
Than not to love at all.

But still better is this other one:

That when your heart is broke,
Fall in love with God, the Perfect One,
And relearn how to hope!

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"What saves our relativistic climate?"

The heart of man is like to Cain:

We are all restless wanderers,
Searching, despite our sin-caused pain

The search goes on in pews of Church,

In revels on the weekend,
In families, and in books filled with words...

That painful, stressful search,

Demanding every faculty,
It makes every heart stretch and hurt;

But in this valley of scintillating tears

Shines forth one Source of light,
"I thirst..." said Christ in his paschal fight,
To take away our relativistic tears

"I thirst, a Beggar after beggar,

I beg to give you light,
I want to take that old, haggard search for truth,
Give it one hand from the other side.

"That general search all humans must make,

Is found in Jesus Christ,
Who dwells in casings as Mystery,
But not without ample light.

"And for the personal quest, for destiny and meaning,

Look at my father Joseph,
Who believed the angelic salutation,
And by grace, let the world know it.

"For a seed of a holy prophet,

Relevant to our lives,
Matures into mission,
Carried out for He-who-lives."

So Mary grant us the grace to do,

All that in this war we are supposed to do,
Reliable for what General has made our due,
Sending Jesus in pursuit,
All wrapped up in Mystery blues,
-As He takes us deeper-
Into incandescent Truth,
Guiding persons home in Truth.

And You, Lord, grant that when I turn towards You,

I will always know your glory, your garments, and You,
(And share a little too)*

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

*By this line I do not mean to de-emphasize the importance of fraternal charity, but
rather to emphasize the virtue of keeping one's silence when, in the life of contemplation
and action, silence is due.
"A union of hearts can give hope to the world"

When God gave us the ten commandments,

He gave us real good start,
Since hidden in these commandments,
Was hidden a hint to Jesus' heart:

One single motion, with two endpoints,

Love towards God, and Love towards neighbor...

And to this heart the Lord me draws,

Seeking chaste, loving union,
The Pearl amidst the den of straws,
The Mystery of Communion.

The Father looking for his sent Son,

The Son my disunion bearing,
The Spirit's sanctifying work begun,
As onwards towards home we keep bearing.

Thus as we walk, we change the world,

Through heartfelt prayerful union:

Love towards he whose love unfurled,

Has power to reach every stranger.
And so, no matter what I've done,
No matter where I am,
The searching, saving love of God,
Can always hold my hand.

And as I turn to You, my Lord,

My wounds moaning, alone,
I pray: please heal what I have done,
Please don't hang up the phone;

For when You sung upon the cross

A hymn of abandonment,
You redeemed what man had lost,
You went everywhere man had went.

So Mary bring this need to God,

That strengthened with his perfect love,
I'm taken back into his arms,
Where he and I can have the most powerful amunitional arms
Of united hearts.

(C) Patrick Johnson 2017

"A Greater Yes"

I'm searching, mother, for my yes,

My heart heaving in my chest,
Aware, each no, of greater call:
Amen, Amen, to now I'm called,

And counted, in the way I look,

(Not so much in my favorite books)
But at God who is living, God who is here
Blasting away my residual fear!

My faith moves mountains of the real:

They ripple, ripple as the Word is revealed,
A thousand different "presences"
Blasting through all my best defenses

As I am taken by the Only One,

Who has planned for me, a full life of lovely fun -
Or so I pray to you, Mommy Mary,
With hope and trust in the face of the scary,

And as I circle back to her, ears ringing,

With every sacrifice deferring
My yes to grating calling,
When into my humanity I'm falling

And ordering my treasuring chest

Remembering all I have confessed,
I give to JESUS my only yes,
The rest of history marked with his holy address

Baptism, Confirmation, and Eucharist,

Reconciliation,
Marriage, Orders, the Sick's Anointing:
All aimed at our filiation;

And though free, with thousands of angels

At his beck and call,
The Lord said yes, from every angle
From man, he took the fall
And so I give to Him my yes,
Dressed up in Lady blue,
Let the world know the rest
Of how much God loves me and you!

(c) Patrick Johnson 2017

"A poem on mediation"

"If only you knew, Jerusalem,

What would make for peace:"
To guard our souls with humility,*
We have one fine trick up our sleeves:

To say, "by self, I fall far short,"

When seeking steady truth,
I trip and slip on Mysteries of chance,
I give up in pursuit;

And even when I have a rule,

What is that rule's context,
What makes it sing in harmony
With this factor, or the next?

And so with humble recompense,

I work on personal friendships, dear?
To bear the fruit of obedience,
Carried out with loving fear --

But let that willed obedience,

Be all shot through with love,
Love for the beat up stranger,
And love for God above!

(C) 2017 Patrick Johnson

*I think it was St. Francis who said to guard our souls with humility by obeying
our leaders in every matter but that which is bad for the soul.
"Where to, pop?"

We followed him for different reasons,

Each one falling into his own true reasons,
Some said, "This man, who can he be?"
Another, "He saw me 'neath the tree."
But one thing rings true, for each of us:
We knew he was truly the path for us.
How did we know, what did he do,
That we would go, wherever he did, following suit,
But whatever the hue of our demands,
A warm white light shone from his eyes, his face, his hands;
So that our cares melted away like desert sands,
Crumbling to an enormous wind wave, lifting away as to far off lands.
And so, though not what our projections expected --
As children will beg and nag mom and dad,
Obsessing on what will make them glad,
Rebelling against that which seems to make them sad,
Then settling for "the one thing needed"
Finding themselves happily fed,
With fun day planned from breakfast to bed --
So following he who God resurrected
(Though for short time he was rejected)
We found abounding happiness
In him, that's all there is I guess.
"My kingdom is not of this world"
But unseen neighborhood,
"Turn and become just like a child"
Somehow he knew I would.

(c) Patrick Johnson 2017

"An apology"

Awhile ago, my hope, my Queen,

I spoke about the "war" between
The different sorts of "charisms"
And their apparent defections;
But who was I to judge my Lord,
The Only One, the embodied Word,
And so I say, "I'm sorry, Mom,
For how I judged our Christendom.
And in particular my Mommy,
When I said that religious were dummies:
Dead men worshipping a dead God,
Hung men mourning God's death,
I'm the one who was in death,
Since Christ is Risen and closer than breath*
Even amidst the martyrs of intention,
Where holiness is beyond adequate mention."

For though each monk points to beyond,

They walk with the present Friend* of whom we all are fond.
And so I burn the "monkey rope"
And embark on a love life of faith and hope!

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

*I mean precisely that, above all Christ Jesus is alive and because He is God, He is omnipresent; yet the
Presence of Jesus can be viewed from several different angels. Some may say that it is the Eucharist
(strictly speaking the passion of Christ) that is the Source of what we call the "present Friend" as it meets
our heart's intentions. Other may say, God is alive and present and "in Him we live and move and have
our being"; but besides for the presence of the community and the sacraments, it is the Father whom we
experience directly. But then again, where one Person of the Trinity is, there are the other Persons. Still
others may say that the experience of the "Risen Christ," such as the one St. Paul had on the way to
Damascus, is an exception to the rules, when Jesus breaks his own usual way of doing things to bring
back a sinner from his ways. And there are other ways of seeing it. But my simple point is this: the
monastic life is not an embrace of despair because we can't succeed at a relationship with a living Jesus;
rather, it goes deeper into the same relationship, a relationship with a living God which we cannot be
separated from by anything, not by monastic life or anything (besides temporarily by serious sin).
"What is a Gentleman?"

"Can you kindly tell me, sir,

What makes a gentleman?"
I heard him whisper in my marrow
(When he shot me like an arrow
Towards every soul of every saint,
Languishing in sin,
Or every part of Christ the light,
Hidden in darkened din.)

A gentleman speaks gently still,

With humility and patience,
For any man, goes up the hill
Of tact, and respect, and perseverance.
(For though some Christians militant
Isolate what's 100%)
Its much happier to uncover -
Since a gentleman has a heart for others -
The gold inside the pile of mud,
The house inside a wayward son,
The questions that make the lunatic tic,
The stable bedrock in a world that's...

But what is more a gentleman,

Is one who talks with God,
With humble, respectful, frequent talk,
He bears the royal rod.

And so to answer my Maker's might,

Whispered in my internal sight,
I say the gentle is the Catholic
Since universal is that which makes us tick.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"Surrender"

Let only your will be done in me,

Nothing more than this,
Is what the Church expects of me,
And nothing more than this,

But as Creator, in Your plan for me,

You built a little swerve,
When to my spinal soul You said,
"Please my dear, have some nerve;

"You think the world depends on you

(In truth it does, my Word)
But you carry it to a huge expense,
Bordering on the absurd.

"In any case, please try again,

And try to do it right,
Start out as a little boy,
And gradually learn how to fight,

"Because when you don't sleep past seven,

I've got a humble plan,
When as a professed religious in Denver,
You wait for the Son of Man,

"At least that's what I say you must

Think until the time is ripe,
And act as though I've paid it all,
When I made that treasured hike,

"But while you snooze for all the lost,

Please do a Charleston,
And sing some music fallen to poems,
For whom you think is right!"

So all is new as I renew

My hope for what's in store;
And hope my prayerful poems and search,
Are not a horrible bore.

For when I'm twelve and feeling fine,

Mom won't just vomit me out,
'Cause when I put on my roller skates,
I'll help a fellow out:

As brothers of the Son of Man,

As Carmelite delight,
As friends to every child of Abram,
We'll dance in Christ's moonlight;

And as a pack of air balloons,

We'll lift chins of every human face,
When in our royal prayer ballrooms,
We'll make our human hearts race.

(In any case that is the plan,

But could be a decoy,
While through the backdoor of Christ's heart,
We learn to be less coy).

And swerving back to present time,

I'll write for one called "You"
But whisper it to his mother's ear,
For all those like me and you.

And as for that little battle of wits

Over the iocane powder,
Whether to save my heart as it was,
By human hearts and inventions,

Or else by way of cold reset button cross,

A heartless intervention,

As chemicals drown my smile and song,

The tragedy of human power,

But I really don't give a shit,

For Christian resurrection is legit -
(I'm still here [us] bastards!)

And if that's not like Mary's fiat,

Not bold enough surrender,
Then let your open heart beat clear, and beat fast,
But always be o so tender,

For only one life there is to live,

And it is a-You-a-following,
Please lock me up and chain me down,
And so to begin a hollow-ing,
Until my place, I've got it down,
And all of us learn to be holy!

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"Paralysis ended"

Odysseus way-fared his way to earthly home,

While Dante's quest took up a higher calling,
Quixote's route reminds us that our heart is good,
While sinner Paul points out by way of falling:

That JESUS transforms sinner into saint,

The exodus purchased for us on the cross,
Discussed beforehand during the Transfiguration,
Safeguarding highest calling, highest haven.

But on this journey man is always making,

Modern man is paralyzed; and broken,
His heart disguised, his happy features faking,
Turning over distressing stuff inside:

Will what I made take power over me?

Which good is best to seek, of all of being?
I want what's Great, but see myself a-sinning,
And why the hell can't I make myself happy?

Thus as he sits on his mat.

(Questions raging, rocking, and pursuing).
Not moving.
He hears:

"Take courage my son, your sins are all forgiven,

Now please take up your cross and continue living."

(C) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"The way to peace"

When he laid out our dinner plans,

He did so with boundless love;
When on the cross he made amends,
He solidified that love.

Up on the mountain with J, J, and P,

He gave our faith a hug, and kissed
Us from the place we had been
To be love's kiss of peace.

So if we want an exodus
From fighting unto peace;
Let us recall to give each a hug,
Then inch it towards it, our feast.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"Thy Kingdom Come"

Those of us who've been around

Know the dreadful feeling,
Where once a plethora of zeal was found,
Our litanies are done reeling,
I mean when we are tuckered out,
And heavenly way not seeing,
For having pulled on every rope,
We are lucky if we are breathing,
It's then when I know that I'm a man,
That I depend on God,
And all I do is lift my hands,
And lean towards the Lord my God.

So when I'm so wearied much that I've forgotten how to pray,

Remind me to say, "Thy Kingdom come now!" and let Him save the day.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"The Bait and Switch"

The bait and switch, some of us have felt,

When he was climbing up the hill,
Then turned aside and gave us promises,
About the way we'd be fulfilled.

Why must our nature wear disguises,

I dealing with your "compromises,"
For now is what a man demands,
But doesn't he reprise with promises?

So lifting up our holy hands,

We pray for that which we demand,
And then he says, "It's me, I'm here:
A golf ball in a universal space.

"For though you want what's infinite, sir,

Life on earth is more a blur,
For that which I have planned for us,
Is much more than your ears can hear.

"That's how I fulfill promises:

stretching you to what's planned for us.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"The Luckiest One"

I am the luckiest one amidst his friends,

So graced that by his power my heart amends,
And learns the right way that leads on to life,
Following the tried and true in life,

One went before in everything but sin,

And by the power with which he caught my heart,
My life continues on with new beginning,
Not perfect yet preserved for more eternal living.

And when I turn and into your soul I'm looking,

To tell you what would save you I am hoping,
I cry because I know that you're not listening,
And that with tears and pain you're sinning your way to him.

All unless you make your heart a child,

So to see that saint that beside you smiles.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"The Importance of a Glance"

You always pick the little guy

Just like with david and Goliath
Jacob, Joseph, Moses all
With little Mary queen of your hall

Very small the mustard seed

Of one Man's words and prayers and deeds
The Grain Of Wheat - o sisyphus -
How will it reach the rest of us?

- Glance - that's all it took for Matt;

"Good works - I wasn't doing that...
You looked inside a saw a slave,
You looked inside and made me brave,
You looked inside and saw a saint
You look inside..."

Need
(The devil sometimes makes us smart,
Monkey see-do, but where's your human heart?)
You Lord

But as I gaze into the mirror -

I do just that, not at the mirror
But look inside, a heart to Heart,
Where deepest needs find the best Part,
And conscience gives a yes or Yes,
Or sometimes, "Pardon me, I am a little slow"

And with your kingly patience grand

- Though I am just a puff of sand -
You wait until the chess-match is done,
[Pardoning with a benediction]
And a litany of saintly counsel
To lead me to where the life is full:

One, have you kept the law of love,

Two done what's right as rain,
Three obeyed the true, not the false,
(No matter ease or pain]?
And if these three strikes aren't a hit,
And if you're not yet home,
Pick what you can with love for Dad,

Sometimes just be yourself

And then persuade your poor parents,

Of what will make you glad.
But always do go home my son,
When they tell you to,
Because a Christian is not just one,
But Christ one multitude.
Amen.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"Come to Me"

Another brick laid in the wall,

Another Christian falls like St. Paul,
Another thinker thinks he knows it all,
Another human person hits the wall.

You said, "I made the Bridge you can't.

And you don't so heavily have to pant,
For I'll make you more of a man,
And you'll do just enough for your fellow man."

And as we slave in a room of 6's,

I pray that Your heart's promise will fix us.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson

"What Reward?"

Reward, reward, it's in your Word -

But what the devil does it mean?
All the kingdoms of all this world
Are nothing vs your peircing eyes...
But "pie in the sky when you die"
Loses all the fishes;
And so you say, "have it your way,
I'll gratify your wishes"...
The prodigal party, thrown for each
Decorate world-hall
The All in All becomes a feast,
Decimating the kings of hell.

And as you live again to buy my heart,

You say, "Follow me," and that's the rewarding part.

(c) 2017 Patrick Johnson