Thursday, August 14, 2025

GAS Featured Poet: Michael Lee Johnson

 

Michael Lee Johnson is a poet of high acclaim, with his work published in 46 countries or republics. He is also a song lyricist with several published poetry books. His talent has been recognized with 7 Pushcart Prize nominations and 7 Best of the Net nominations. He has over 653 published poems. His 336-plus YouTube poetry videos are a testament to his skill and dedication. He is a proud Illinois State Poetry Society member, http://www.illinoispoets.org/, and an Academy of American Poets member, https://poets.org/.  His poems have been translated into several foreign languages. Awards/Contests: International Award of Excellence "Citta' Del Galateo-Antonio De Ferrariis" XI Edition 2024 Milan, Italy-Poetry. Poem, Michael Lee Johnson, "If I Were Young Again."   

 


Turnips in Southern Tennessee Still


In Tennessee, the shadows of the southern

wooden structures stalled off the narrow

highway and came to an abrupt end.

Lost in the deep eyes of forest green,

closing in on night.

From the top of a Yellow Poplar

tree scares me looking down

at the hillbilly stills. Moonshine

and moonlight illuminate the fire stills.

Moonshine murders of the past,

dead bodies hidden behind blue walls.

Mobs lie in Chicago, bullet marks

on the right side lie dormant through plaster.

This confirms my belief that Jesus

only works part-time.

Let me look at this mirage

picture photo album.

One more time

find the turnips in the still.

 



Steel Bars a Single Sheet


I'm Steely Dan Seymour Butts,

South America, trust me on that.

I can't pull up my sheet inside

these steel bars anymore. 25 to life.

No man is God in the cold or the clouds.

Isolated poets grab words anywhere

they can find them in newspaper clippings,

ripped-out Bible verses are a sin.

No one pities people like me in prison.

Spiders hang from my cell ceiling—

dance the jitterbug, "In the Mood."

Jigger bug fleas on my unpainted

cement floors.

My butt is toilet paper brown, flush.

Toxic thoughts grind on my aging

face, body, and declining health.

In this dream, I reach

for a hacksaw that is not there.

End this night & so many more

suffer in just a snore.





 

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