Andy Warholt

Bush vs Peace

2011-09-19T15:36:00.000-07:00

The Specter of War looms,
Creeping like a figure,
Greedy with shady speculations;
Gesticulations apt to snatch away
The purple shadow of Peace.
Vain-glorious men are testing
The limits of their power.
Soon allegiances will be made
And the tension between the energies
Will ignite a fiery sunset.
A new triad for an old land,
Where rust and distrust
Are crossed with the lost.

Johnathon Gallagher

Jack Rabbit

2011-09-19T15:19:00.000-07:00

It was morning. Whilst lying in bed,
I had not a dream, but a vision, instead.
There was a jack rabbit, hovering over a line,
And below him was a triangular precipice;
And hung over him was a dark cloud;
In the foreground, a round boulder.

The scene was slowly changing, as it then became
A large question mark rotating in its own space.
I was in an alpha state, as the thoughts processed.
I wondered how long this art could hang there,
How strong the fiber of silk was to balance it.

With gentle suspension, as it gestured clockwise.
The mobile was really a cache of dried leaves,
Arranged closely together, like a cluster.
It dangled from a long spider web,
That Mother Nature must have mustered,
On a light bulb in the middle of the window box.

Rod thought I had made it, and hung it there.
I said, “No, look closely.” And he did.
“You should film this, because it’s floating in mid-air.”

The next morning I looked at it again…
The mobile had morphed into the shape of a caterpillar,
Sitting atop a mushroom, and yet was still a question mark.
“Who Are You?” from Alice in Wonderland, I thought…)

But I knew what it all truly meant. It was all symbolic.
The life of my dearest friend, Jack, was hanging by a thread.
The line was his path and its nature, segmented.
The triangular precipice below him
Was the balast of his Body, Mind, and Soul.

The dark cloud; his emotional state.
The ground in the fore, heavy and bold.
Finally, the caterpillar is Jack’s metamorphosis.

The Question that dangles, fragile with dry humor,
Leaves us wondering, and yet also, illuminated…
Life returns transmogrified, and this circle is forever,
Slowly turning in the gentle web of November wind,
A butterfly waits to fly once again into its remembering.

Johnathon Gallagher written November 17, 2011

Spentagon

2011-09-19T14:47:00.000-07:00

And so the weapons of war are bought and sold,
Like new oil lamps for old, or so we are told...
Loopholes for corporate cheaters, no taxes for temples and churches.
Big breaks for the rich leaders, even though the economy lurches.

A gallon of gas flies past five-fifty! Damn, I'm so coupon thrifty.
You can find me at the dollar store, buying assorted sundries, cheap allure.
Cutting corners scraping by, all those years I used to cry. But no more.
The people need to forsake the greed and return the deed to our country!

Johnathon Gallagher August 2, 2011

Hello Mother

2010-11-30T20:34:00.000-08:00

Hello mom, hello dad,
Here I am in Islamabad.
There’s people fighting,
There’s people dying,
And all we hear at night
Are soldiers crying.

Hello sister, hello brother,
Here we are with one another,
There's lots of guns,
And tons of ammo
There’s nothing greater-
It's ten years later,
We're undercover.

Hello Raq, hello Ran,
I say it that way, because I can.
But if you don’t like it, well that’s just too bad-
'Cause it could get much, much worse here in old Baghdad.

Hello woman, hello man.
Here we are in Pakistan,
Osama’s hiding, Obama’s chiding,
But who’s deciding how to end
This wartime plan?

Hello Turkey, hello Yemen,
Here we are, your darkest demon.
Hello China, hello Russia,
Guess we’ll see ya, North Korea,
If there is still a Seoul
There left to crush 'ya.

Hello mommy, hello daddy,
Here we are in a rice paddy.
Nothing’s changing but the seasons,
If you feel anxious, there are plenty of reasons.

Hello Buddha, hello Shiva,
Here we are again, back in Geneva,
Discussing war crimes and Wiki Leaks--
Iranian uranium, pandemonium, & media freaks.

Hello human, hello world,
Is it time for a flag unfurled?
Airport pat downs, x-ray screenings,
(Even jay-walking now has secret meanings.)

The sun is hotter, the poles are shrinking,
The air is fouler, what were we thinking?
The river’s polluted, the milk’s diluted,
Another nuclear power plant is slowly sinking.

Hello Jesus, hello Allah,
Here we are in Guatemala,
Oil drilling; spoiled and spilling,
But we got to keep them chillin'
With lots of snow in Walla Walla.

Hello mom, hello pop.
Well I guess it’s time
That I should stop-
They’ll call me a traitor.
But I’m only a waiter...
I just hope that this tip
Was worth the trip
More now than later.

The Artist's Garden

2009-09-03T14:14:00.001-07:00

Sunlit palms and bamboo shoots
Tapioca trees and ginger roots,
My house has a garden
Where morning doves go--
Where ivy and peppermint
And lavender grow.

There is Iris and Jasmine,
Rose and Rosemare,
Papyrus and Onion,
And of course, Aloe Vere.

Along with some Sage,
(Now wiser with age,)
A passion vine towers
With summertime flowers--
It twists and it twines,
Betwixt the grapevines.

But the Boston fern,
Has lost its turn,
Under the calm
Of the pineapple palm.
And the creeping fig,
Has gotten so big
That it makes it all seem,
Like a gardener's dream.

So when you come over
Check out the clover--
Stop and smell the roses.
Then say a prayer,
That the angels stay there,
After the garden gate closes.

Johnathon Gallagher Circa 1986

The Golden Rule

2009-09-03T13:58:00.000-07:00

Is it the Poet or the Fool
Who asks which is the rule
Most golden? Neither nor.
It is the Artist's task to cull
The truth, and show it to all
Beholden.

Nothing is greater
Than a promise kept;
And nothing is kept,
But a later promise.

To create anew and celebrate, too,
The few moments left for leisure;
Those gifts of Happy pleasure--
The sweet days of living,
While giving up the soul...

These moments are precious and few,
Between God and you,
And all that I have said is true,
If you believe.

Johnathon Gallagher Circa 1984

Venus and Mars

2009-09-03T13:12:00.000-07:00

If ever there were a slivered moon, surely it was this eve.
Earlier at dusk, in conjunction with Venus, it seemed odd as
It hung over the horizon, like a burnt orange scimitar.

Later, when my Libran friend, Rod, quipped with blithe dismay,
“Where is Venus? Venus is gone!” True, she had slipped away
Beyond our view, leaving only a sanguine crescent hue, suspended
Like a giant scythe. I wondered if any others were marveling
At the moon, with Venus gone so soon, and in such a way.

In the blink of an eye, and in the eye of a storm, Mars is rusty red-
Like tonight’s Moorish moon, and its unfortunate sense of dread.
For the balance of the oceans, rests upon the motions of the moon.
The tide pulls and crests at the shore line. Only now it’s not a
sure line. Like footprints in the sand, they dissolve into the sea.

Our deep emotions are tied to the sea- a briny solution, our tears;
Our moral shell of calcium coral and skeleton of bone-white fears.
Perhaps if time were measured in lifetimes instead of years,
Human kind would put mind over matter, and then kindness would matter.

Triumph slices through the sky, and justice seems edgy.
Nature trumps all inclinations, and a new moon will rise,
As surely as there are men who are wise-
As surely as I, who cries, “Here Comes the Sun!”

Johnathon Gallagher January 2009

Afraid Of The Wind?

2009-04-24T19:26:00.000-07:00

My soul is calm,
The night is windy.

The leaves swirl and
Crinkle in cornered eddies--
The night forces her spirit
Into rustling trees and excited bushes.

Am I afraid of the wind?

I sit alone and listen alone,
Yet, not alone with the night.
My soul is calm,
The night is windy.

Black Van Gogh secretly visits me,
But then jumps down from my trestle.
I guess he didn't expect anyone
At his favorite porch, sitting in his
Favorite feline chair, at this hour,
Asking himself if he's afraid of the wind.

Maybe he's right.
How could I explain
To some stranger that'd
See me sitting alone under
This dim lamp, in Van Gogh's
favorite feline chair,
That I was afraid of the wind?

My soul is windy,
And the night is now calm,
And Black Van Gogh says
He likes it likes it this way.

Written by Johnathon Gallagher 11-24-81

Paradox

2009-04-24T18:37:00.000-07:00

I dreamed I was a sun god in a field of gold.
A maiden played harp in a circular room.
Something seemed sacred in the story I told,
A hidden time tunnel within a cosmic boom.

A double helix caught my eye,
And suddenly I knew I could fly!
I listened to their verses, never asking why,
For in my own mind, it truly was no lie.

Jasmine tea and floral gowns;
Caspian Sea and mural clowns;
Orpheum lyres and ebb tide clouds;
Rainbow tears and sea side crowds...

Johnathon Gallagher

Shock Me

2009-04-24T18:23:00.000-07:00

Shock me.
Tell me some Druid lies sleeping.
Sell me those candled stars
That ooze down cradled skies.
Flash me your razor blade stare.
Tell me my rag doll doesn't care,
One armed and tagged.

Say something snide and remote
As your silver-spoon dangles and shines.
"Dreams in snow will melt and drain,
As moth wings fragilely fade away.
You cannot preserve their elusive state."

Insipid smile,
Twisted and grey,
That fire-cat resides in you;
Hides inside you.
Mock me,
Oh, mock me if you will!

Johnathon Gallagher 8-5-81

Under Wires

2009-04-24T18:06:00.000-07:00

Bitter eve. Plastic snowman. Semi-conductor.
Intrinsic, musical, anthropoid gropes with clasping finger.
Trigger-happy entrepreneurs enlist in garrulous grain fields.
Hen-pecked asps hiss, silently stealing into wood.

Merged, as divided into souls; Divided as purged into purity.
Sincerity is slain by the sleepless, sycophants that drizzle
On a frizzled window pane. Puddles run down a deserted lane,
All but pennies in a pocket of change.

Under-developed sardines gather at Junction 3.
(Selfless Catholics sin too much).
Surrealistic space interjects the feedback as
Wonder bred ponies fleet on transpired shadows,
A window of a bridge.

No reason to smile--The sun leaks like a broken watercolor,
Spilling into the absorbent fibers of the paper sky.
Fire laughs on the Hillside. No castle could cry, no candle will die.

Simple things are equated
By frustrated suppliers
Crossing the train tracks
Under wires.

Johnathon Gallagher 1-30-80

No Comparison

2006-11-22T18:51:00.000-08:00

Give Me Love

I cried and cried the day that George Harrison died.
I took my White Album portrait of him and framed it in gold.
I found a frankincense candle and lit it with Myrrh in a bowl.
And at the time Olivia asked for loving thoughts be sent to him,
I carefully played “Give me Love” on my turntable and sang.

Weeping like his gentle guitar, I, too, prayed for peace and love,
In tribute to someone I knew I loved, and like John before,
I knew that I would cry too hard, to sing along much more.

His loving portrait glowed golden in the candle light,
And the air smelled like church on a calm Easter night
As his beautiful song about love and hope echoed in my ears…
So, I sent a message to George Harrison:
Thank you for all those years of joyful music!

“There is no comparison to George Harrison.”

Written by Johnathon Gallagher -- November, 2006

Three Words

2006-05-22T18:23:00.000-07:00

Three words that are spoken.
Three words, a token of sharing...
Of caring--of daring, to say them again.

Of finding the part,
Deep in the heart
Where God dwells--
Where he tells us to
Love one another.
Oh, Father, Mother, Sister, and Brother,

The three words are: I Love You.

When I say to you, "I love you,"
Believe me.

When I say to you "Stay with me,"
I am here.

When I ask you to “Soothe me with your peace,”
Will you?

When I say to you "Teach me your wisdom,"
I will listen.

When I say to you, "Touch my soul with your beauty,”
I will wait.

When I say to you "Look into my eyes
And see the child laughing,"
You laugh, too.

When I say to you, "Be my friend, my lover, my mate,"
Will you say the three words,"I love you?"

Johnathon Gallagher 2006

The Hour Glass

2006-05-10T18:08:00.000-07:00

This endless exchange
Of funneled constancy-
Always silent.
Always contained.
Always predictable.
A mirrored measurer,
Directed with just a tumble.

"Afraid to use it?" he asked.
"Afraid to lose you," I replied.
The elusive time passes...
The sand slips discreetly through.
I'll be asleep, not to see it end.

But I know it will be full again tomorrow,
And empty again as well.

Johnathon Gallagher 5-3-81

Somewhere in Dreams

2006-03-11T18:27:00.000-08:00

Somewhere in dreams
We play as we do,
In castles of sand
Above clouds of sky...

Somehow it seems
I'll stay here with you,
And just hold your hand,
As hours pass by...

Romancing the Stars,
Just wishing tomorrows,
We're dancing on Mars,
Forgotten of sorrows.

For you came to me
Right out of the blue
And captured my heart
With passionate arrows.

And just as the Sea
Is endless and true,
This path is the start
That widens and narrows,

So follow its bend,
And there, at its end,
I will be waiting for you.

Written by Johnathon Gallagher 1989

Mother Earth

2006-03-11T18:03:00.000-08:00

A dragonfly spies the water's edge,
A sparrow deftly builds his nest.
A rabbit hides in a hollow ledge,
A spider casually waits for a guest.

The sun melts the icy snow,
Which waters the land then flowers grow-
A garden of blossoms springs to earth-
The cycle of life, the season of birth.

While the mating call of the ebony rook
Echoes across a serpentine brook,
A lily pond glistens with diadems,
And a trumpet vine listens to bumblebee hymns.

And who watches over the sunflowers?
Van Gogh did, in his painting hours.
Who hears the song of the seashells?
The rush of ocean, as water swells?

The silent prayers of the trees?
The soothing mists of the waterfalls?
The salient errs of our memories?
The happily ever after all’s?

Save your tears for the last few years,
For youth screams to be as free as it dreams.
Take the time for reason and rhymes,
Taste the honey, and sip the wines.
Let your life flow like a peaceful stream.
Then let your life go like a peaceful dream.

Johnathon Gallagher 1990

Alpha Bet

2006-03-10T22:30:00.000-08:00

The Human Condition From the Animal’s Point of View

A -- An Alligator asked an Albatross to ascertain if an atom bomb was so absolutely necessary for any animal to access.

B—A big brown Bear in Boston was baffled: "Who would bake such a big bad bombe?"

C— A California Condor candidly commented: “If we keep on counting Crows-- who knows, maybe mass extinction isn’t convincing enough."

D-- A Dove from Dover, Delaware flew over and left an olive laurel, declaring that Peace is a hardly done deal.

E— Every Elephant in England suddenly expected everyone else to eliminate their ever-increasing urge for ivory. We all eavesdropped.

F— Four feathered friends from Capistrano found it non-fortuitous to swallow a fortune cookie on Good Friday the thirteenth, without a faux-paparazzi fanfare.

G— A Great Egret sent her regrets, yet let her grievances be known: What great new toy is the neutron boy constructing to destroy our sacred home this time?

H— A hopeful Hippo from Honolulu offered a haunting haiku:

Life and Death are lost and won.
Just as the wars we've just begun.

I— An ingenious Iguana insisted that the idiot was too ill-tempered to imperialize the world with impunity. Imagine.

J— A Jaguar argued that it was perfectly normal for people not to expect justice over Orange Juice.

K—A Kangaroo from the Queensland Zoo was hopping mad about a neurotoxin leak, so she kicked up a storm during Euro-Boxing Week.

L—Love Birds in lower Mazatlán launched a long list of pet peeves-- namely to leave the birds and Bees out of this, pretty please.

M—A maimed Manatee moaned in misery. Voting and speed-boating should be outlawed in Florida, for very hurried reasons.

N—No nets were spoiled in nabbing large numbers of Fish, just like no Bushells were used while netting huge oil profits.

O—Obviously, the Owl’s observations were the wisest: only Ostriches are allowed to bury their heads in the Arabian sand and get away with it.

P— A Parrot from Paraguay paraphrased it precisely: People shouldn’t put up with inept politics--even the Pope proof-reads his prayers.

Q—Quite frail, a female Quail requested that all male guests scramble their own eggs from now on. It just seemed quizzical.

R— Rambunctious Roosters ranted and raved about all the Chicken feed they would need to recoup their initial investments, just before they flew the coop with the total down.

S— A stark white Swan seemed so innocent, stuck in the muck of that sorrowful oil spill.

T—Ten Indian Tigers tried to stress the notion that trash doesn’t mix with ocean.

U— A Unicorn was unexpectedly well-versed in the unique ways the USA could undermine uranium expansion.

V—Veteran Vipers vented their vitriol about revolution and Vietnam animosities.

W— A wannabe Wallaby in Waco wallowed in a wet, wild-west fantasy. Whoa!

X—Every one (except me) was expected to express exuberance over this stubborn Oxymoron.

Y—Yaks yelled the most about their frozen assets and why it was better to burn the bread today, than yearn for toast tomorrow.

Z—A dozen zealous zebras zigzagged their fate, then fell exhaustedly into a Zen-like state. They finally realized that Led Zeppelin was past its zenith.

Johnathon Gallagher October 20, 2003

50 Ways to Leave Your Lover

2006-03-10T22:08:00.000-08:00

50 Ways to Leave Your Lover:

1. Slip out the back, Jack.
2. Make a new plan, Stan.
3. You don’t need to be coy, Roy, just listen to me.
4. Hop on the bus, Gus, you don’t need to discuss much.
5. Just drop off the key, Lee, and get yourself free.
6. Split after dark, Mark.
7. Make a telephone call, Paul.
8. Hop on a bike, Mike, just listen to me.
9. Make a big break, Jake, and let ‘em eat cake!
10. Just skip the defense, Vince, and get yourself free.
11. Take a big trip, Rip, like a world cruise.
12. Get to the bank, Frank, you know you can't lose.
13. Dash with the cash, Flash, just listen to me.
14. Get out of debt, Brett, don’t make a bad bet.
15. Just catch a new wave, Dave, and get yourself free.
16. Hop on a plane, Dwayne.
17. Head for the zoo, Lou.
18. Take a long hike, Ike, just listen to me.
19. Go with the flow, Joe, you don’t need to know mo'.
20. Just try a new trick, Rick, and stick next to me.
21. Hit the big street, Pete.
22. Get back to the gym, Tim.
23. Hop on a train, Wayne, just listen to me.
24. Don’t even worry, Terry, she’s a real nut case.
25. Just go for a sail, Dale, get out of the rat race.
26. Jump on the tram, Sam.
27. Go for a swim, Jim.
28. You know where it’s at, Matt, get yourself free.
29. Get out of bed, Ted, you’re such dead head.
30. Try to be brave, Dave, and let yourself be.
31. Find a new job, Rob.
32. Just send ‘em a fax, Max.
33. Try a new ploy, Floyd, just listen to me.
34. Take a long drive, Clive, (hey, at least you’re alive!)
35. Don't stop your tryin' Brian, get yourself free.
36. Get on the right track, Zak.
37. Act like a man, Dan.
38. Cut yourself loose, Bruce, just listen to me.
39. Just go for a ride, Clyde; no need to be snide.
40. Count up to ten, Ken, and get yourself free.
41. Find a new way, Ray. What else can I say? Hey!
42. Just cut through the red, Fred, and make your own bed.
43. You don’t need to be shy, Sly, just listen to me.
44. Don’t change your address, Wes, you just have to confess.
45. Throw in the towel, Al, and get yourself free.
46. Drop the big bomb, Tom.
47. Get away quick, Nick.
48. Find a new scene, Gene. Listen to me.
49. You’re over the hill, Bill, you don’t need to feel ill,
50. Just try out your luck, Chuck, and get yourself free.

(The first six ways written by Paul Simon. The rest written by Johnathon Gallagher 2000)

Cobwebs

2006-03-06T22:52:00.000-08:00

Laced between this old stairwell,
Are cobwebs where no spiders dwell.

Knitted nets of silken strings,
Crafted by some hungry things.

Their transient traps, once played in,
Are now broken shrines, unpreyed in.

For as the dust that gathers thickened,
Those little weavers must have sickened,

Since there is no trace of the being's face,
Just the tangled bones of their elder race.

Is this perhaps, just Nature's gleanings?
A forgotten cache from Mother's cleanings?

Did Arachnid find some better home,
Far away from this fallen Rome?

For once a strong and seductive grasp
Sipped sweet nectar, at life's last gasp...

Perhaps I'll peer in some other place,
And find their tapestries all replaced.

Then I will know I'm not really alone-
As long as the cobwebs feel right at home.

Johnathon Gallagher Circa 1980