Tallon Fassi

I make like I’m going to scream.

The breeze absorbs the sound

only I am left with the din I created.

Soft feet tip-toe down a wooden hall.

Watching after the very small.

I feel the world shake,

A breaking of the crusty cuts of earth

cities fashion.

Installations of constellation to navigate my trip.

Dip the ink with feathered tip.

Quips about each other’s deliverance

I’m under mother nature’s influence.

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Afternoon delight culminates;

poetry night.

Sky rockets in flight

pulling signs of love .

Freedom is but a moment away,

while we float on.

Taking my hand;

I like a women

who loves

everything and everybody.

Trickling drops of liquid,

summers blur together.

Do what You can,

help those running on empty.

Manufacturing facsimiles of belief.

I’ll get You to smile before I leave this place.

Alone on an adventure;

soldering together scrapes of character

into a empty cage

Who once ensnares you

encapsulates what love can bring.

Wrapping silk dresses in smooth cashmere scarves.

Stacking polished boxes filled with silver mirrors,

golden crafted adornments of the highest accord.

Oils that captures the alchemy of scent.

Violet glass bottles of lotions and soap

(The nymph’s morning due.).

Reality adieu.

Cucu-ca-choo

And the Walrus too.

Bring the Lorax and Buddha.

Saw Jesus Christ and the donkey

eating a pint of Chunky Monkey.

Caterpillar’s ginger fuzz.

Golden leaves of halo flakes

Enjoy the white hot spot light.

Hope You can withstand the blow.

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My mind melts magnetic.

Pulled to the greater pole.

My soul is a drop of water.

Disconnected in the speed of rain;

only to find the ocean once again.

You are my friend.

Active culture is the ride.

Separation breaks us  into tides.

Ages are stages but thoughts are contagious.

So tired of watching the rage inflame us.

Popped Trust.

Dream of self-lust.

These ideas are far from Notorious

May not pop pistols or sip models while fucking Cristal.

I can roll it up and kick it.

That’s quite enough chirping from this self proclaimed cricket.

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Still stars shutter in Parallax
Dripping their light into dark ink
The growing moon left soft to wax.
Chocolate irises dilate under winks.

Sun burning in a frozen sky
Formations flush diamonds
Howling winds snaking by
Bowed birches on the mend

Pools of water ripple aquamarine
Ivory bones washed pristine
Geyser building heads of steam
Callous mixtures bathing dirt clean.

Alone is not the answer
Together we stroll along
Slipping moonwalk dancers
To our very own song

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Foot Art?

The quiver of my arms,

sends electricity into my veins.

Rolling over opaled colored waves of my brain.

Tear it apart, gravity will enviably pull it back together.

Hold you a satellite in tether.

Is it any warmer weather?

Because of the lack of trees?

It’s not for me to say.

Control yourself and take only what you need from it today.

Or give it away.

You or Me!

You are me?

Why is it so hard to get free?

Little boxes on the hillside.

I wouldn’t say we are all the same.

There’s a Layer Cake,

We are burning while it bakes.

Drink some Saki and eat some Zen.

Let’s pretend to be civil.

And then live a little.

Life’s Texas Hold’em

Bluffing is what they sold them

My mind in the island wind drifts away.

Beautiful Got Random today.

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April is the month for me.

The first all the way to the thirty.

So Flirty and Gangsta

A love Rasta Prankster

With style that beguiles

the wildest of childes.

Serene and pristine

 while your rolling them mean.

Deviating from the strategy.

Lets get together…

 grow some trees.

Blow it into the breeze

giggle until we are weak in the knees.

Then chill…

In April the Secert is skill.

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When the sun created parallel slits of light on the maple floor,

I was awake. 

 One eye open to watch the day break. 

 The heat intensifies under green artichoke quilts. 

 Pealing the layers back, he ate my heart with little guilt. 

 Exponential potentials incidentally daggered

in a violent change of season.

  You are the heretic of love treason

The hours stale decay in time

I promise for You,

I’ll no longer rhyme.

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Crystal Meth is turning a disillusioned Generation to it’s knees.

The Wondering Dead; driving SUVs.

Pulling into shopping malls.

It’s not legal to smoke the trees…

I’m entranced by the FIRE

Making the world less free.

Have you heard the word is

“LOVE”

Listen carefully…

Now that I know

how to ride the flow of

the space in between the worlds we see.

(I’m in a cave.  Can’t see beyond what is naive.)

Hiding; lying; industries.

Poisoning and raping and creating an ease for the upper class.

Not to be crass but

THINK.

Then put it to ink…

The Coal Miners,

Black Buttons down their backs.

It’s the lack of tears for the

hurt souls.

Disconnected.

Layers left neglected.

Predilection to recidivism due to economic depressions.

Stereotypes misunderstood, but its still all good.

When You are infected

with zombie complexions and mentalities;

only believe what You see.

Instigate while contemplating peace.

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Have I changed so rapidly or is it the world?

Trying to keep my eye on the goal while riding the Tiltawhirl.

Caught up in gender identites; not standing in line can have the side affect of enemies.

I’m trying to be the type of women that doesn’t bow down

to the mass of asses in Prada glasses that scuff from their crystal tower

until the final hour when the flames engulf freedom. 

YOU! Listen to the television, then you’ll know what to feed’em.

First its that Coco Crisp then its a Camel smoked brisk,

Don’t you dare take a risk, live through others, hide under your covers

and smother the voice of opposition.

Launch a inquisition, make it your mission to understand every condition because

now YOU are always right, there aren’t any omissions to your knowledge!

No Dear God! You went to college which makes you a Star Bellied Sneetch;

So sorry to preach but these height won’t be reached

while laying down letting your nertons clot.

Smell the stench and the rot from the top.

The Revolution won’t be televised if so we could devise merchendises. 

Come roll the dice and buy a toddler popping land mine

and there will be quiet the fine if

YOU don’t panic for the oil we believe in.

 But what I’m trying to say is you can’t get ahead

while your getting even.

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Dear Friend,

There was a brief instance in time, us still on the break wall, the ocean sublime. 

When symmetry of souls combined with intellectual burning coals to soutter together solidarity

(that’s when you tossed my cell in to the sea, setting me free.). 

On the brief occasion that your vocation allowed for the frolicking of two minds into one nation,

 Poetry would break free (the rhyming over the beat box while floating in the sea.)  and riot on Disco.

 Maimed it, thought we killed it only to flame the fire of what Hunter S. compared to herpes.

 So after the treatment ended I sat with hands braced on knees and listened to the never ending four four beat disease.

 Glitter and hot pants will not defeat our new frontier.

 (So let me make this clear.)

 Kurt Cobain is dead,

Hunter S lost his head.  

Bradley Knoll had it right, but heroin called it an early night.

 Where are the Prophet wearing red, green and gold?  

This MTV generation will mortgage your soul.

 As far as these globes of sight can see its down to You or me

to take a machete to this literary bureaucracy.

 If you make it to Oprah’s couch before me.

 Remember the break-wall, the boat and sea.  

The bottle of stolen Bacardi razz (split between you and me).  

Remember:

Don’t make that dash for cash, sit and hash through the hypocrisy, drop in with soul-flow, and no matter where you go there will always be a mind of simpatico that is waiting for the day that some one will really slay disco.  

love

Tallon

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