Tallon Fassi

We can’t see into each other,

staring in quizzical atrophy

masks fasened flawlessly.

Just two slack jawed art patrons

amazed and unsure and in awe.

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Glittering vastness of stardusk

achors the core of us.

Looking at you

leads me to drinking

to bleed out the thinking

which was creepin.

Your tropical heat,

a corset I won’t loosen.

Tell me your spy plans

aren’t translucent.

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I stick out my tongue to see her mood,

tasting the weather she has brewed.

The sound of ocean sucking

pebbled stone over tidal breathe.

Lost in the burning iris of god,

Bees make homes in my rib cage.

This poem is built on mysticism and cinnamon.  

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Her legs spread;

Antenna

searching for reception.

The light flashing red

in the dim lit club

glitter caught cleavage.

Swinging black silk

ribbon dancer locks

Bodies G-clefting

the long dark pole.

Cupid dolled eyes

telescope the perfumed mist.

Tantalizing waves of hypnotic hues

angelic bodies with devilish moves

Ladies lapping up gold deblumes.

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Every seven years, cells are made anew.

I see it as clear as Mr. Magoo.

My mother is brilliant, I swear!

Why didn’t I receive her intellect

in the stead of her shining hair.

Too whimsical and flaky,

labels I don’t dare contest.

“Baby, this is a mans world!”

Fuck right, that’s why it’s a total mess.

Wisdom hurts too much to pry.

Yet lesson are in high supply.

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I think I…
I wish I…
I know I…
Keep a running letter
in my mind
of questions.
Words I could arrange
in colorful architecture.

A tree falling in the woods
No one ever heard my sound.
The voice
informally shared with
self and God.

The Chatter of monkeys and
will of all abound.

Through rare and
incalculable odds
You heard me.
Through thick skull and
hampered mouth.

We spoke through irises, and
thought outside our own minds.

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The understated attitude prevail

scared vessels of everything and nothing.

Sipping on cask beers.

Strumming harmonies

and prominent Pointillism

if you please

thank you for the chance to see.

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Posh avenue apartment to water proof tent.

This was truly a feat of the majesty.

Inequality of the haves and have knots, or what not.

Pressure building in the core of issues,

passive interaction faction the entire system.

What’s to be?

Minds soak; rung in the oils leaking from… no longer the metal drums.

It will all fall down.

Children are left mentally unfed.

The truth is the hemlock in a play of deception

Verbally choking by heavy social positions

Economic suffering of seeds

Perceptions are loving a lie,

yes indeed.

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Thoreau had his pond
and I’ve got a stream
and it moves so slow… It seams.
Yet, it’s pure.
My dreams lead me to distant shores.
You melt my smore!

The distant woods
of which I speak
are lovely, wild and hard to keep.
What I mean to say is
I need someone deep .

What?

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I can live over water.
run over grass.
Stretch further
than I imagined existed.

Twin stars twinkle
with orchestral overtures
synced tunes of subliminal
love bombs of photon push.

SHOCKWAVES

strum across atmosphere

It’s far away.

Pebbles gargle over
tide’s breath
And
there are parts of you
for me in certain places.

Heaving kick curls of rocket splash.

In your rare and
taken back moments
You possess an all encompassing beauty.

I ponder if you know?

Shape and angle,
lines that does not bend
under gravities pull.

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