Below are the all-time best Don Johnson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members
~~ The Rabbit and the Fox ~~ 20 line Ballad
The Rabbit and the Fox
The Rabbit and the Fox are here
go down south, to Australia
They have a bounty on the Fox
Bring in his skin they’ll pay ya
Myxameatosis germ warfare (first ever)
Just for the Bagman's bunny (our ww1 war crazed soldiers lived on rabbit in solitude)
Old Rabbit got mattry eyed
It really wasn’t funny
Great depression in the 20s
We lived on lovely rabbit
skins made the Slouch hat
Our soldiers wear, our habit (fur felt made the hat)
The master took the Rabbit (Squatters said plague)
No more free feeds for us
So we started eating of his sheep
Become a bit nonplussed
They brought another virus out
To kill off outlaw rabbit
But bunny still gets about
The Fox your hens will have it
Just like football I am waiting ,
on the side line,
To go up on the field,
Yes we are playing Goodooga,
Aboriginal big guys, tough as steel.
Here comes Albert racing faster,
Trotting down the bloody wing,
Gotta stop him, take him head on,
Hit his ankles, the hurting thing .
Fell him like a big old tree,
Pot belly lands on me ,
I’m a still a seeing stars,
all round me ,
Get up you silly Galah.
So there I was out on the wing ,
Waiting for a pass to me.
Intercept, Albert's a coming ,
he passes ball, dodges see .
Just a few of broken arms,
Black eyes worn with pride.
Rugby Leage what a battle ,
Carry the ball through the other side.
Running for the other goal,
Sidestepped Albert, got there see.
Not a bloody forward pass, (illegal)
Planted it between the trees.
At 17 I was in an interstate game,
between Dirranbandi n Goodooga, we lost. (shame)
Big n hard
well babe its been big n hard,
the dumb retard?
wants planting in pleasures planting pot,
or bring some stole viagra,
just in case its not:)
get a keeper maybe should,
enhance his mood, stiff as wood,
the blood flow enterprising,
could be bloody mystifying,
as any phallus should,
yet babe im shagged, deflated bags,
me ball bags teste-fying,
get back you baitch,
can’t have an inch,
bo-didly aint supplying…
Door o’ green
The door of green it stands ajar,
I enter here in a dream, so far,
A rough hewn table, here it sits,
Big yellow candle splutters its,
An ancient room, of meditation …..
As I look about the ancient room,
A figure seen within the gloom,
Svelte of body, bosoms loom,
The sweetness of creation,
She comes to me with loving eyes,
No words are needed, sobs or sighs,
And pressing close, and locked of eye,
I hold this incarntation,
The sudden chill of nipple freeze,
The points are made with subtle ease,
What can I do but play on these,
No words of explanation?
Moving closer within her thighs,
I trace her form, though things do rise,
Her bosoms rise, in breath caught size,
Inpaled by the situation,
I try to leave, she says don’t go,
The fire is burning me, you know,
Till passions fire has had to blow,
The magic place behind the door,
Where love does wait for me and more,
Fantasy says, yes me explore,
A mental apparition….
of suffering deep, tween pain and asleep,
and the curse still lingers like crime,
a fiendish mind wheels, still turning out deals,
and slip-sliding thoughts to begrime,
get back in your box,
begone to the nethers of mind,
bad voices are still,
mourning their loss,
in spirit i'm doing just fine,
got a grip on its throat,
bad thoughts continue to gloat,
yet the battle is mine, bloody mine...
of: p.d. "Cronic Pain"
the ever helpful angels,
we meet along the way,
ones who will pick you up,
till you are happy, bloody aye,
boot the black dog up the Kyber pass,
and the mongrel whines away,
depression knocked off, on its asss,
when the angel comes your way,
take the world by scruff,
yer tough enough,
be happy bloody aye,
let the inner spirit shine, plum duff,
is all that johnson says...
I wandered as lonely as a dog,
Me pantaloons were full of frogs
Slurping suds while on the grog,
Dog paddling with the ducks,
I thought I knew her lovely face,
Got cuddling with Aunty Grace
mascara was every place,
me swimming togs got stuck,
a rooster crowed up in the church,
cuckoo clock was in reverse,
I could think of nothing worse,
When incest, comes a riding?
Contest Name Make me Laugh
50 years ago we had a sport
Of the deadly dangerous sort
Fight a Tiger snake just one
Quick as lightning in the sun
Used just once a post hole shovel
6 foot long was the handle
Running barefoot with the Tiger
Banded black n brown, a gamble?
Adrenaline ignites, terrifys!!!
Up the handle 5 foot tries
3 strikes each the 5 foot bugger
Deadly battle, won another
Fang marks on the handle sit
Near my hand where he had bit
Don’t fight old Tiger he may win
Stupidity it is a sin!
Hindsight says don't play with snakes.
My Tiger was launching 5 foot all his body at me, incredible because he was
racing alongside me at the time.
"I dreamt, I was a butterfly or was I,
a butterfly dreaming . . ."
But I was only the cocoon grub,
attached to a ceiling,
So I hung there thoughts of enrapturing,
fascinating, the meaning,
But I was still a sordid bug,
unloved a heart for stealing,
Outside was a Billabong, (Aussie water hole)
enchanting was the feeling,
I jerked the zip and let me rip,
away from the cocoon,
delightful slip an swerve,
with constant wheeling
I had bloody wings an things,
entrancing was the moon,
Don Johnson 8-july-11
Poet Destroyer ~ A
Contest Name any old butterfly poem....
The Puzzle of life
The puzzle of life is there for you,
ancient texts, part of the larger view,
the Karma view of sow and you reap,
vengeance for his murdered sheep,
thoughts of the Master-mind for you.
The spirit bank holds seven billion souls,
Where else from, babies join the fold,
To get it right, to fit the mold,
To rise up the 7 levels,
To finally get to heaven,
Or so I’m being told.
Different places, different rules,
Monogamy, Mormon or solitary fool,
Flexible to fit a Hill Billy old mate,
To get em lined up at the judgement gate,
To stop the murderous duels.
First born of our God was he,
Adam, Christ and Budda see,
Many times returned to us ,
Many times more he must,
Our just Lord of eternity.