Tumbling handily

 

Wisdom is scant

 

Embrace the strange

 

Ballad of Dapper Dan

In the quiet town of Spring Rock, 

'neath the moon's pale light, 

Stood a jailhouse old and lonely, 

on a restless night. 

Dapper Dan, a fisherman, 

with a heart so grand, 

Found himself behind those bars, 

by a cruel hand.

Old Bitty's pie went missing, 

from her window ledge, 

She wagged her finger at the sheriff, 

standing by the edge. 

A little girl did hear her, 

on her way to school, 

By lunchtime, Dapper Dan 

was branded as a fool.

Rumors spread like wildfire, 

tales of woe and dread, 

Each retelling darker, 

filling hearts with lead. 

From a pie thief to a villain, 

the stories grew and grew, 

In the vigilante state, 

the truth was far and few.

The sheriff and his deputy, 

they knew the man was true, 

Held him in the jailhouse, 

to protect him from the posse's view. 

The townsfolk gathered torches, 

with tools in hand they came, 

Seeking out their justice, 

in a fiery, angry flame.

Dapper Dan was fishing, 

when he should've been at work, 

Now he faced the wrath of townsfolk, 

in the shadows they did lurk. 

His fate hung in the balance, 

as the night grew cold and dark, 

The vigilant state of justice, 

left its cruel and lasting mark.

Rumors spread like wildfire, 

tales of woe and dread, 

Each retelling darker, 

filling hearts with lead. 

From a pie thief to a villain, 

the stories grew and grew, 

In the vigilante state, 

the truth was far and few.

So remember, dear listener, 

as you hear this tale unfold, 

The vigilant state is peace, 

but the vigilante's heart is cold. 

Dapper Dan's fate is hanging, 

in the balance of the night, 

In the shadows of Spring Rock, 

where wrong is taken for right.

Soul Diodes

 

ONE, two, three... ONE, two, three... ONE, two, three...

 

A Good Life?

In a forest deep, by a tranquil stream,
A soul sought out the perfect dream.
Gazing long at life's bright gleam,
Lost in the beauty of the scene.

The world around, a fleeting dance,
Moments passed in a trance.
Yet grasping tight, no chance to hold,
The good life slipped, like liquid gold.

For one may see and feel the light,
But never own the day or night.
Experience, not possession, is the key,
To live the good life, wild and free.

In the mirror of the stream's embrace,
Reflections show a fleeting grace.
To future hearts, this truth impart,
The good life's found within the heart.