Tallon Fassi

It’s getting cold on the island and the weather is meant to say,

“leave before its biter, you know you only came here to play.”

But I’ve loved on this island, and cried on this island

and picked up trash on the way home from the bars.

I’ve stared up at the stars and planned a ultimate future then forgotten .

  I’ve been a day tripper, soul flipper and stepped on my pride. 

 Been eaten alive and

seen scenes contrived.  Hurt beautiful people and tried

to live life in harmony with the trees and breeze and seas.

Played up empathy and had multiple epiphanies about the way

I view life and strife.  I have strived to do right.

My island will stand and plan adventures strange and queer

for yet another time. 

Until then I will practice Zen and the art of all sublime.

Reflect on how being here seems a crime to the grind. 

And remind myself not every poem needs to end with a rhyme.

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Getting Away From It All…

            The Pressures of life are increasing for all of us.  To remain strong, sensitive, able to love and create, we need a vital center that remains clam.  A place away from cell phones, the internet, radios and television. 

            Antoine De St. Exupery found it among North African desert sands and the stars.  The Japanese build a special niche, Tokonoma, to hold one poem on a calligraphic scroll and a spray of rum blossoms.  We all seek a private place that makes contemplation, mediation and love more possible.

            Where to go alone ( or with one other) to think, to talk, to listen to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons or to hear Corneils Vreeswick’s Saskia or La Flute Des Andeas? 

            A place for seeing nature, burning joss and candles, reading poems, playing flute.

            In our societies places like this have ceased to exist-> To remain sane, we must make some…

            You may be lucky enough to look out your window at the bottle-green sky meeting the sea and the tundra.  Sled dogs barking and howling through your village and your own hands are busy with the mending of fishing spears and nets.

            Or you may lie back against the sun drenched wall of your pueblo.  Your son drills the center of Turquoise and Chalchihuitl and the steady beats of the dancers comes from the square.

            The wind rustles through the pine trees as you look at the moon above the lake at night.  You sit in sound completely at peace, with the smell of birch – whisks in your nose.  Soon you’ll race streaming to the lake, to be embraced by the icy water. 

            Sunlight breaks over the desert.  It is still cool as you hitch up your robes for the day’s journey.  The camels snort and the air is so clear that you can hear a village dog barking from miles away. 

            It is late at night.  You return to the village.  There you find the love of the people you know and there are none that you do not know.  There is only a long “Today”, a time-continuum of births and deaths, marriages and rituals, rain and earthquakes. 

            But most of us who read this have never lived these lives, or only for a few years at most.  Lacking nature, lacking close connection to a life-cycle, we need a place for being at peace.  But in this area, needs will be radically different.  You must invent for yourself.

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This just can’t be summer love

It must be summer lust,

 with all of my good intentions

this can’t be the last of us. 

The heat is slowly dying

My sensitive skin fried

Its about time to pick up my pride

and realized this is old and dried

time to revitalize with open eyes.

For tomorrow I spy a cozy fall tryst.

It started with a kiss

and under jackets through cool mist

we will fall in love.

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There was a hole in my heart

where the dripping of art and beauty and good drained away. 

 It’s so hard to say what it was in the day that kept me so a lark. 

 Could it be the disease which is eating the trees

and making a century of the cow mentality ease?

Reality is what we say it is.   Gee whiz

I just can’t seem to get the drama which is

 The evening news and ”baby mama” speculations.  

 All different hues of the same cultural leprosy. 

 We are walking zombie in a dead sea

passionate disconnects from logic and

 the opposite sex and attraction. 

 Reactions to media interpretation

action from different colors and sisters and brothers.

It all makes me want to crawl underneath the covers.

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The waiting room was as still as a closed crystal cabinate.  I clicked my flip flops and felt as if the silence gobbled it whole.  No one care about poets unless it’s over a beat.  Soap box screaming, good intentions gleaming, funky fresh heat?  And my mom won’t even answer my calls.

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Government Testing in conjunction with the Better Living Bureau (B.L.B) has compiled the following list of ways for you to better live your life.

Your Welcome, by the way.

  Tap Light Conservation:

 T.L.C. is one of the fastest growing trends world wide. 

1) Such celebrities at Elton John and Lil Kim are fascinated with the long lasting positive effects of tap light management.

2)      In the Pope’s last speech, his holiness apologized to all of Christendom for not being sensitive to “tap lights” and all the good they represent in these dark times.

3)      Lack of Tap light management reporteredly may have been to blame for the tragic Hindenburg disaster of 1937.  Research shows that if the tap light have better been managed a fiery flesh rotting death would most likely not have occurred.

4)      Some of the greatest grass roots bandits of our modern times can be linked with T.L.C. and the various forms of management.  Afghanistan’s own Osama Bin Laden, O.B.L. swears by them in his caves.

T.L.C. is much like a strong current of water, either you go with the flow or you drown in a icy rocky grave.

In summation to improve the nation and build on solid foundations.  All you need to know is tap that Ho, before you go and save some dough.

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I could endorse fruity pebbles.  Sell lace and metal

while scheming for paper and gold.  Instead,

I stack my obscure words in combinations unheard.

So please! If you would.  If you feel that its good.

Spread the message down the vein, notions sail

like crack to the brain.  And simply sit back and

relax as I make it rain… on some hos.

 

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My head gets in front of my body.

Laced with infertile philosophies

in attempts to study the topography of my heart.

Butterflies mark that luck is near,

But I’m focused on beer and far too drunk

to simply be here.

Ethics be damned I need a real man to met my gaze. 

Smoke til I choke if only one toke,

 I’ll gladly get lost in haze.

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Serious emotional attractions

 a devotion of a notion that love is ideal. 

Free the world of misunderstanding.

 If I can’t do it, there’s a second chance.

 The Biotech who creates the instrument to revive romance. 

 

 Virus in the breeze spreading an enlightened disease. 

 Thoughts can germinate.

 

  

  To be glib,

 rather live in the sizzling bud of Holland.  

 Spring bosoms forth a pollen,

of Green Energy,

 to the poor for free?

  Money can also captivate me,

with its wicked charm of no mercies. 

  Until we save the whole world,

Andre 3000 can play his heart out for me.

  And I’ll buy it, maybe not all but I’ll try.

 

 

 I listen with intense precision

 when I pick up on any tip

that may grip and share my vision.

  If I was a Harley riding Siddhartha,

 I would know

 that the world of knowledge

 is a beach,

understanding the sand,

and all I can see

 is what’s in my hand. 

 It’s so little

 and everyone demands

 that they know what the world needs to blow,

not that movie,

its all a show.  

Written by melodramatics

with bachelors in literature and theatrics.

 “Come On People! Am I taking crazy pills”

 This is pigheaded,

we are all drinking bottled water

obviously not de-leaded.

  It’s a witch hunt

 for the next cunt to shove up on the screen,

 rape obscene,

 crowd her queen just to watch her squirm,

like a bated worm.

 Author signed under the twisted design

 that she a freaks for the meek to peek at.

 Made her give back the advance,

 what an exhausting dance of chance. 

Has anyone in the herd,

heard if romance is going to make it? 

Best that we should we go on faking. 

 Like the moon landing? 

I’m in not standing to say,

I just like to hang out all day

 and play with words and herbs

 and read about nerds making money.

  It seems so very funny that I have none,

and the blonde from Beauty and the Geek

 can walk down the street

 with her plastic shoed feet

offered a job in where cash rains

 down like blessings from God. 

  Geisha girls; by the powers invested in me

 Ordain them undead in the head,

follow my thread of logic,

it’s not toxic like a drink pour in the lips

 with the souls intending to kissing the hips of a stranger. 

Paid to furiously to drink from the bottle,

and know there’s a hefty fee.  

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Its 11:11 and i’ll hazard a wish.  

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