Mary Rose

Aside

          Mary Rose

 Across the valley, and inside the mountain
Lies a cottage, a house, and a work shed.
Beneath the smog, is where Uncle Ralph works in peace.
But something is missing….a soul. 
A partner….Mary Rose. 

Uncle Ralph builds his trains and his tracks.
And he pieces them together, so that he can get her back. 
But Mary Rose lies silent, pale, and stiff.
Away in a coffin, where everyone sleeps.
But where is….Mary Rose? 

Uncle Ralph tends to his garden regularly.
His vegetables grow higher than Orion’s Belt.  
And his grape vines are longer than the Mississippi. 
I remember when Cadan ran through the garden.
Joyfully, and without a care in the world.
If only he knew, about the memories that lie beneath the soil. 
The ones that Uncle Ralph, shared with Mary Rose. 

The elk consumes the bitterbrush.
And berries wither away amongst the frost.
But Uncle Ralph, whom has journeyed the locker backwards and forwards….
Fears no famine.
However, even the strongest diamond is subject to a harder substance.
And to Uncle Ralph, Mary Rose is….
The Sword in the Stone.

Robert Alexander Deason         Peace

© All Rights Reserved

http://www.facebook.com/radisradicallyprimetime
http://twitter.com/#!/RADsPeace
http://trippydreamsandnegativenergy.blogspot.com/
http://www.youtube.com/longhairalex

Me Heart is a Mountain

Aside

 

 

 

My Heart is a Mountain

My heart is a mountain.
Rough, uneven, and jagged.
Its beat skips unexpectedly.
As the chains move with the quakes.

My heart is a mountain.
Old, tired, and sore.
It’s unnaturally familiar with pain.
As mountains are used to the rain.

My heart is a mountain.
Patient, courageous, and hopefully, true.
It’s used to being lonely
As mountains try to gaze over the endless hills . . . .
Which are already taken by the trees. 

My heart is a mountain.
So cold, and so dark.
It is afraid of the past
As mountains partially fear an Alaskan sunrise.

My heart is a mountain
Neither alive nor dead
Its rhythm comes and goes
As mountains rise and fall.

Robert Alexander Deason          Peace

© All Rights Reserved

http://www.facebook.com/radisradicallyprimetime
http://twitter.com/#!/RADsPeace
http://trippydreamsandnegativenergy.blogspot.com/
http://www.youtube.com/longhairalex

As I Stare at White Potential

Aside

          As I Stare at White Potential 

It is only fitting . . . .
That my heart should reach towards the sky.
For in due time, time will tell.
As I stare at White Potential . . . .
It. . . . Prepares to erupt!
And to form a new world.
Pace yourself.
But be prepared.
For the butterfly birds guard their sacred treasure.
And the natives, bow at my hearts doorstep.

It is only fitting . . . .
That my soul should see that land become sea.
For in due time, time will tell.
As I stare at White Potential . . . .
I begin to write about the hope,
That is being created.

Peace is its name.
RAD is its master.

Robert Alexander Deason          Peace

© All Rights Reserved

http://www.facebook.com/radisradicallyprimetime
http://twitter.com/#!/RADsPeace
http://trippydreamsandnegativenergy.blogspot.com/
http://www.youtube.com/longhairalex