A Darkened Willow

Aside

          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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Living Inside Illusions

Aside

          Living Inside Illusions 

Inside the green grass that grows . . . .
Little people describe a phenomenon.
One event that will change life’s course . . . .
And one movement, that will substitute violence for meditation.
And a dream it shall remain . . . .
Until the masses, refuse to blame.

In a land . . . .
Where Eldorado meets heaven.
The natives wail ballads of love and peacetime.
And the children ask why . . . .
Perfectionado is the only fair world?
But the question has already been answered.
For a dream it shall remain . . . .
Until the masses, refuse to blame.

Miles from shore, and below the sea.
Mermaids and marlins are eluded . . . .
By dreams of beautiful waves . . . .
And endless coral reefs.
However close or real this may be . . . .
The blackened surface of our liquid earth is in danger . . . .
And beyond repair.
A dream it shall remain . . . .
Until the masses, refuse to blame.

Beneath the earth, a foundation cries.
For mercy, and for a race to see reason.
And inside my mind, I know the trees dream . . . .
Of leaders that allude the population . . . .
To give, rather than receive.
Because the grandest halls . . . .
Are only coated with the finest jewels.
Now, I ask the question.
Why can’t we all, just be like the Dutch?
A dream it shall remain . . . .
Until the masses, refuse to blame.

With time, I hope that knowledge is secured . . . .
I hope that the cosmos become intact . . . .
And I hope that all positive illusions, become dreams.
For the best way to live . . . .
Is inside an illusion.
There aren’t any boundaries, any limits, and the dreamer always decides the fate.
But all these things shall remain a dream . . . .
Until the masses, refuse to blame.

Robert Alexander Deason          Peace

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Carry On

Aside

          Carry On

Awake in my bed I leap.
Into foretelling illusions and keep
The peace that flows within the rhyme . . . .
And cleanses me, and blocks out the time.
Carry On.

Into the dreams I fall.
And I see a world filled with color, trees, and rainfall.
Maybe it’s not the moon, but I’ll remember it all.
Carry On.

Then I feel a sudden change.
In the vibes that have kept me enchained.
And I try to feel the love, but all I saw was a dead dove.
What next? Carry On.

Through the fire I go.
And mountains, trees, and snow
Into a world of pain
Where evil conquers, and reigns.
But I know deep down.
That escaping is impossible with a frown.
So I let it roll.
And carry on.

Eventually I see . . . .
A light that begins to call for me to get by
The wall that tells me lies.
And now the scene has changed.
To colors again, except with motion, more beauty, and awe.

Thus I awaken and leap.
Into foretelling illusions and keep
The peace that flows within the rhyme . . . .
And cleanses me, and blocks out the time.
Carry On.

Robert Alexander Deason          Peace

© All Rights Reserved

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