THE WALLS

Wisdom deceived the night,

Turning dawn into a bright new day,

Flowers draped the sharpened edge and covered thoughts run astray,

Still, the notes of mystical winds pulled from a hallowed choir,

These are the strings of the fortnight song.

Follow wild the land and its gifts,

The bold new storms in the lifting mist,

The walk where were led is far away,

Alone in the night we silently stay,

Abandoned between and betwixt.

Walk with me across Jordon’s shores,

If you dare, roared the voice of the Lord,

This land of milk and honey’s lust,

Ask not where it leads or ends in trust,

Just follow the signs sent from above, His majesty adorned.

Encircle this house, and its blood-stained door,

That pathway where Joshua leads.

Tonight, we fight in trust though meek,

A promised land sent twelve who seek,

This place in which life is catawba sweet, and content, within its slumber.

A place where all who obey,

Captured slaves in Ancient days,

Beside one’s towers upon display,

As walls fall from its face in tears,

The sound of rolling thunder.

And in this march, we stake all trust,

Times disturbed are left to dust,

Of unknown travels upon His earth,

And moments left in wonder.

For prophecies only heard,

Deep within the night,

Fill our minds with angelic harps,

Which leave us victors in His light,

In shadowed dawns great wonders.

The sleepless nights when darkness seemed,

As lost as those unloved,

We fell from grace into His arms that held and blessed us from above,

But though we tried to meet swift strides failed to grasp His second dove,

And in the weakness of our trust,

Deceit was torn by the sins of another.

In hearts now left alone betrayed,

All light that’s dim in time did fade,

The spirit in dust of a dismal haze,

Sift through grey ashes, lifted in a blaze,

Left to the burning night,

Forlorn the thoughts that settled around,

The world unleashed ropes unbound,

This falcon’s talons torn.

Light in sight blurred and confused,

The grace, of His deep love, rebounded.

And from dark clouds which shone above,

Question not His gifts in love,

When granted truth from beyond,

A nation born to tribes of twelve,

Beheld the faith and sire of Jacob.

 


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An artist/writer as well as graduate of the University of South Carolina with degrees in journalism/20th Century American Literature, and retired senior executive of several international hotel/resort corporations, Johnny is the product of the south having been raised in the ever-changing transient lifestyle of a Carolina coastal resort. A point where he discovered, within his 300-year-old heritage and the world's dramatic social/cultural shifts during the late '60s to early 80’s an ambitious hunger and overwhelming curiosity to touch, see and become a participant in the virtually unlimited possibilities offered to those who wish for and seek life experiences. A journey which when hearing its details initially makes one a bit skeptical, questioning its validity as it is hard to imagine that incidents such as these may have crossed one man’s lifetime. This is the fodder required to step into zones exposing one's personal inner self, which many of his paintings and the words he writes do, openly. An ability to see and hear the tragic, beautiful, accomplished, exciting journey in a life free of inhibitions allowing others the opportunity to live vicariously and become, through his works, a part of its future. His larger works which have been featured in several Colorado and Fredericksburg Texas galleries and resorts have produced a number of collectors and fans. However, over the years, his paintings are mostly viewed by friends, enthusiastic new artist encountered on the streets or a small number of acquaintances he meets when dining in local cafés with his wife.
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Larry Tyler

This is spiritual Ink. Bold, powerful yet entwined in a gentleness and softness like the morning mist

Bharat Mathur

It is truly heartening to see a gentlemen of your intelligence, Dear Johnny Johnston, bring back the cherished memories meant to guide us as true human beings. As long as we continue to believe in the value of our holy scriptures, no matter from what religion, the Good Lord shall continue to guide us.

I especially like your poetic bent of mind that unfolds ancient history as if we have travelled back in time to watch every event unfold right in front of our eyes.

Keep up the good work, Dear Sir, you got a lot more admirers than I can ever imagine.

Thanks, with Warm Regards!

Larry Tyler
Larry Tyler

As I read this again it touches me deeply and reminds me so much of how we saw life on the farm