soft blonde curls around you
like a halo
warmest smiles one could ever know
from the heart


You said in your elephant grass poem
“peace is less than me
and more than you
but we are almost free”

I find it hard to accept
such bright light snuffed out
so soon

May your light shine on
Sweet Masikani
Teej-light is sorely missed here



will see you
in the stars one day*



S T, 26 July 2013

Life can be painless
Provided there is sufficient
Peacefulness

For a dozen or so rituals
To be repeated simply
Endlessly

Your genius does not fail you
It allows you to understand the
Truth of the situation;
Which makes you--at times--
more tragic than ever

And your genius,
like all geniuses
Suffers periodic fits
of monumental
naïveté
Hi-**

Listen:
Where is Grace
When milk and blood
Are about to be added
To the composition of the
Stinking ping-pong
***** being manufactured
In Grand Rapids?

Schizophrenia
The sound and appearance
Of the word fascinates

It sounds and looks to me
Like a human being
Sneezing in a blizzard of
Soapflakes

This much we know:
You made yourself hideously
Uncomfortable by not narrowing
Your attention to details
Of life that were immediately
Important

And by refusing to believe what
Your neighbors believed
Hi-**

Let your imagination continue
To be the flywheel on the
Ramshackle machinery of the truth.

But not the ‘awful’ truth

The ‘beauty’ in truth

Because we are a part
Of a system that is very
Restless,
With people tearing around
All the time

Every so often,
somebody stops to put up
A monument

Ours is a country where
Everybody is expected to
Pay his own bills for
Everything,
And one of the most
Expensive things a person
Can do is get sick

Grace:
Because if we stay here
We’ll do one of two things
(or both!)

Build a Commune

Or do like Collin Heise did:
Make the main thing that we
do be this:
Move seventy-eight
Thousand pounds of olives
To Tulsa, Oklahoma

Even if we can’t
Improve the quality of our surroundings
We’ll do our best to make our
Insides beautiful instead

Piebald Roadtrip-writing, baby
Hi-**

You are the turtle
able to live anywhere
even under water for short periods

With your home on your back

A particular comfort in
Realizing that it so often feels
There is no order in the
World around us

That we must adapt ourselves to
The requirements of
Chaos instead

Remember:
We are healthy
Only to the extent that
Our ideas are
Humane

To you
To me
To ourselves
To We

"Teej" Julie Teasdale  aka MasikaniCrocodile aka Crocodile of Happiness has taken her life after suffering from bipolar disorder. She was 27. She's home with Jesus now, God I miss her.

All her HP family are invited to the service Sunday night at 1897 Little Snowbird RD Robbinsville NC 28771. I would love to give and receive hugs from any of you who were touched by her poetry. Trust me, she was the most beautiful, kind, sincere, meek person you could ever know. She was my best friend since the day I was born and my heart is shredded on my knees crying Lord, Lord.
You can see pics and get some more of her writing at her facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/teejs?fref=ts

-Robbie Teasdale

"Teej" Julie Teasdale  aka MasikaniCrocodile aka Crocodile of Happiness has taken her life after suffering from bipolar disorder. She was 27. She's home with Jesus now, God I miss her.

All her HP family are invited to the service Sunday night at 1897 Little Snowbird RD Robbinsville NC 28771. I would love to give and receive hugs from any of you who were touched by her poetry. Trust me, she was the most beautiful, kind, sincere, meek person you could ever know. She was my best friend since the day I was born and my heart is shredded on my knees crying Lord, Lord.
You can see pics and get some more of her writing at her facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/teejs?fref=ts

-Robbie Teasdale

‘The rebels always find each other,’
the old men used to say, scowling
at us and our feral-haired friends
in the slums of Nairobi.
Tell my people I love them.

The rebels do not know who they are
but they know who they are not;
they know they are breathing bad air,
they know something is not quite right here.

The rebels always find each other,
communicating on some soul-dimension of revolutionary
called to understand, called to speak,
called to live and live well the cause of peace.
Let them be alone if they must.
They will empty their pockets for the freedom of the world
and feel themselves the winners of some crazy cosmic sweepstakes--
tell my people I love them.

The rebels always find each other
far from home,
far from other.
They find each other and remind each other:
to tell despair to *******,
to reach for light,
to stay up all night seeking,
because the rebels will find each other
and be found--
tell my people
I love them

by Teej Mali

Teej.

God owes us an apology for this one.
It is a failure of the world.
If there was too much
hurt in the dark corners where
you were cupping your palms,
trying to light matches, then
there is too much hurt.

Jellyfish Baby, we could see
through your pinkwhite skin
to all the bleeding pieces but
not stop the suffering.
So you sliced a hole in the skin of the world
and leaked out. All the brightness of you
spilled like a slurpee on the sidewalk,
dropped by careless hands.
We should've been more careful with you.

We should've built warmer nests
in which to cradle your tender heart.
We should've whispered in your ears as you slept
that 'home' is not a place
in the sky but people around a table
and dinner plates for everyone
and no one going hungry
or alone.

It is a failure of the world.
There is
too
much
hurt.
And there are still dark corners but
we have
no matches.

don't bother me
i am looking for Teej
in the pile of bitter dandelions i imprisoned
that she was so
fond of  
maybe she
is hiding there

i am thoroughly convinced
that the people who hurt the most
are the ones the devil is the most scared of.
and that though lights are bright
they are useless without
the contrasting dark...
Teej,
the world will miss your
influence
your poetry healed desert-hearts
i know it did mine.
you were like
a piece of africa-smile.

Put genitals in your mouth
No one bats an eye
Eat a chip off the floor
After five seconds
People lose their ****

Whirl down Cupid’s Hill
Post office bound
Island air and golden sun bars
Through moon roof

Corner pocket
Western union
Mow down island dogs
Kintaro

Please mow down as many as possible
You love dogs?
I do too.

But, no, it’s the humane thing to do
Otherwise they cry all night
With suicide eyes
But no pointer fingers to
Pull the trigger

Or tug-of-war
A baby piglet in half

Red spray painted
Toe nails

And
I lose sleep
And get nasty with
Unsuspecting writing students
All day Thursday

And
Besides
It’s not like they
Won’t be dinner for
Your neighbors
anyway

Be weary
Menwai are tricky here
Find one who is the ****
And spend your time with them

Better yet
Choose a westernized local
Someone who knows and
Respects both sides

Because
For some reason
Menwai lack any ******* semblance
Of depth and loyalty
In paradise

No, no
If you want integrity and honesty
A westernized local is the way to go
You dig

Because who knows if that
One Adonis
“Friend” of yours won’t
Keep a secret local girl friend
Locked away in his forbidden,
No trespassing 4TY apartment

And **** all the girlfriends
You confided your feelings in
For said
Statuesque Portland haling
Lawyer
“Friend”
In your apartment

Lies
Fairytales
And fallacies

Get me off this rock
If only for a weekend
On Black Coral or Nahlap

I can eat ramen for days
Ratted, greezy and
Scattered-*** ramen packs

Two Kool-aid red fingertips
Away from grasping
Something that at least
RESEMBLES confidence
And security

Because when your
“Curls and Gurls”
Best Peace Corps mate
Isn’t around to make you
Laugh till tears
Laugh at the absurdity
So that you can feel:
“At Last!
Grounded.”

You allow your brain and heart to
Meet in that covert cloud
Looming above
Decrepit Kolonia-town

But,
   But:

THE TEEJ MALI says:
More free
More free
So far surviving slum and street

Wearing these scars
Just as he is meant
To be

So you know ****’s
Gonna be alright

Soon