Tag Archives: Folklore

A Little Thing Called Life

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A Little Thing Called Life 

A flicker of light at dawn
And the stage is set.
Arrows and hammers, become guns and drills.
While man finds the sacred purpose (Absolute Truth). 
It’s a true story
It’s a little thing called life. 

Comedy’s, folktales, and drama’s alike.
They all reach the same conclusion.
Which is that mankind is never satisfied.
And that any good heart, can ripen to quick. 
It’s a game, but it’s always a do or die situation.
It’s a little thing called life. 

Love exists in this land of lollipops.
But murder is common on the dark side.
And though fish will survive this age
Mankind is doomed for the gallows.
It’s a mystery, but it’s true.
It’s a little thing called life. 

Males require short hair.
And females, long.
It’s a stereotype, a lie, and a scam.
But it’s part of our story.
It’s a little thing called life.

War rages, worldwide
And mankind, hates mankind
I don’t understand.
But it is what it is.
Because it’s a little thing called life. 

My point,
Is that every human being should aspire to excel. 
We should climb mountains, or ski the universe.
And ride endless waves, where trouble has an end. 
Because it’s fun
And it’s a little thing called life. 
For we should embrace everything that is good
Because one day, it could all be gone. 

Robert Alexander Deason          Peace

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A Darkened Willow

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          A Darkened Willow

 Way in the back, alone . . . . . .
Where arrogant crowds gather in annual celebration
Lies a story, which goes back four ages.
And it is told, within the darkened willow.
 
Its legend is worth the telling.
And with its death came glory and valor.
But the nightmare picked its poison
For the blackened bark, and the anorexic limbs, show the signs.
 
Through times of war and peace
The willow lied adorned in an enlightened evergreen beauty
Which gave the multitudes, a reason to discontinue.
The massive bloodshed and never-ending horror . . . . . .
 
From the natives to the stars and stripes
The silent being stood firm.
And while surpassing the impenetrable flames . . . .
The willow showed patience, and outstanding virtue.
Until it darkened, thus shriveling into exile.
 
During its course I heard a voice
Not verbal, but as if it used the wind . . . . . .
To create a melody with infinite rhymes, and a natural flow.
And though they say that silence is golden . .
The willow’s end brought terror to all its surroundings . . . .
And the small circle of life that that was provided by it. 
 
I listened to its internal pain.
The roots, which were destroyed by the polluted soil and the contaminated minds
Gave the willow no chance of survival.
In addition to an absence of joy, balance, and glory.
And it suffered for the longest time . . . .
According to its emotions.
However, with death comes peace, along with the end of pain. 
 
Before it was chosen by the Kraken
To endlessly suffer within the abyss
The willow reflected rays of light
That shined through anything, living or not.

Now let this be known
The Darkened Willow lived and died, all in four ages.
With a story to tell, it is now covered in blackened bark.
And the anorexic limbs show the end. 
 
Now I sit here
Remembering the willow
Back when it moved
Physically and figuratively
And enlightened the world.
I also weep, for its soul which has perished to the halls of its fathers.
Maybe the next world will be just as epic, for the one, but not the only, Darkened Willow. 
 
 Robert Alexander Deason     Peace
 
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