The Gallery
Real-eyes
Jaak - South China Sea, 1973
Nothing is real;
It’s just what we make it.
We’re making the motions
While we really just fake it.
They feed us the data,
and like fools we take it.
Trying to expand our mind;
Instead we just bake it.
When will it end,
This follow the leader?
Watchstander
Jaak - Indian Ocean, 1973
The ocean was as ruffled silk,
The night air, clear and still.
The moon sat like a golf ball
on a darkened window sill.
Clouds sailed by before it,
Partly covering its face,
As I stared across the water
through the dimly lighted space.
Enveloped in morning mist,
I watched the morning moon.
The last hours of the watch,
And the Sun would be up soon.
The sky was looking brighter,
partly cloudy in the East.
The daylight was approaching,
the wind had almost ceased.
Below the surface of the water,
Underneath reflected sky,
I watched the morning twilight
as the star lights floated by.
Grey cotton clouds hung in the air,
Underneath the blue,
Orange horseshoe of horizon,
Complementary hue.
The blending of the morning
Overtakes the night.
It’s show time every sunrise
With the ever-changing light.
The minutes passing faster
while my mind was at a rest,
on the last minutes of the watch
as I sat as mornings guest.
How happy is the watchstander
At quiet times like this.
“It’s almost worth the hassle”,
I said, in playful jest.
School Call
Jaak - Concord, California, 1974
I’ve been going to school a long time now
It seems a sort of bind,
The school is called the school of life,
I’ve been taking one course at a time.
I started walking at sixteen months
They told me I was slow.
But I just do things my own way
The only way I know.
Once I knew a gambler,
His sleeves held many tricks.
But now his sleeves are empty,
And he’s into politics.
If you haven’t a million by twenty-five,
I’m told you never will.
Unless, of course, you pay your way
By dipping in the till.
I asked one man what I should do
To put me in the pink.
He told me in one simple word
That I should stop and THINK.
I once had many questions
’cause I used to think a lot.
But now I’ve heard the answers;
That’s why I drink a lot.
I’m getting lost for answers
As to just what I must do,
To get ahead in this backward world
Before I bid adieu.
So, I’ll just keep taking courses
’til I find something I like;
or wind up empty minded
like the rest of mankind’s psych.
But what have I to lose at all?
Indeed! What have I to gain?
Just another school call!
To me, it’s all the same!
Down on the Farm
Jaak - Somewhere in the Pacific, 1974
I didn’t want to settle down,
It wasn’t in my plan.
But now I don’t know where to go,
Since I’ve hit fertile land.
She came upon me softly,
Sort of snuck up from behind.
We spent some time together,
Then she coyly blew my mind.
She said “I’ve a surprise for you,
I think you ought to hear!”
I think that I am pregnant.
How do you like that dear?”
I nearly lost my little head,
My mind went sort of blank.
My dreams sailed by before me,
My dreamboat passed and sank.
“What is your plan of action?”
I asked in plain remorse.
She looked at me in disbelief;
“To marry you, of course!”
I thought that I could leave her.
I started to regress.
But, I knew too well that she must have
My true name, and address.
I don’t really want to marry her,
I don’t know if I can.
But now I don’t know where to go,
Since I’ve hit fertile land.
Scatterball-Dodgeball
Jaak - South China Sea, 1973
New friends come,
And old friends go,
But I just stay, and watch the show.
Some are strangers,
Some I know,
Some are fast, and some are slow.
Some stay long,
others can’t wait.
The current swirls in the river of fate.
A point in time,
A plot in space,
Another name, another face.
They move around me,
With style and grace.
They move together, then lose their place.
The river moves,
around the rock.
The shepherd stands, amid the flock.
Who are these people,
In my life?
I watch their pain, I watch their strife.
They come and go,
They never last.
But soon, I too will come to pass.
So, it seems
we’re all the same.
Who made up this crazy game?
Lifer
Jaak - US Navy, South Pacific, 1974
I’ve been floatin’ around in here for years
It’s the only place I know
I’m down so low, that I’m in tears
But there’s no place left to go.
I used to be somebody else
I was once a happy man
But I’ve been here for so damn long
I forgot just who I am.
Every day I get up slow
Each day looks the same
I never been this got-damn low
I think I’m half insane.
Some have called it limbo;
That seems to fit the bill
The only place l’ve ever found
Where time is standin’ still.
They say some day that I’ll get out
That day seems far away
The only thing that keeps me up
I’m shorter every day.
Sometimes I feel happy
But most the time I’m pissed
But when my day comes to get out
I’ll probably re-enlist.
Just Adjust
Jaak - Adjusted, May, 2015
Some might say
We chose this place
Before the earth was dust.
And, some would say
‘That’s just not so’;
The old ones rose through crust.
My brother said that we must do,
just what we think we must,
And therefore, should consider most,
the things that don’t go bust.
He also said that life’s a trust,
And, that his mind is toast;
And of all the things he ever lost,
His mind, he misses most.
Our thoughts get tossed
From to, through fro,
we ponder, and we fuss.
But after all is said and done,
They’re adjusted, as discussed.
Transcending all dimensions
Through all things frivolous
In existential furor;
It’s just ridiculous.
Dost thou live forever?
Or did we just get thrust
From somewhere long forgotten,
And tossed beneath the bus?
“It probably shouldn’t matter,
Since most roads lead to thus;
The seven mountained city
with its frankincense and lust.
In constant contravention,
with manifest mistrust,
Consensus in all circles says
We just must just adjust.
Short-Timer
Jaak - Somewhere in the Pacific, 1974
At Five years old
You wonder who, and why, and how, and when;
And at Ten,
You think how young you were
When you lived way back then.
At Fifteen you discover how much there is to learn;
And at Twenty, you piece together
All you’ve strived so hard to earn.
But at Twenty-five, you realize
There’s nothing left to spend.
So, at Thirty, things start picking up
And you get your head together;
And at Thirty-five you’re doing fine,
And things are looking better.
But at Forty years you ask yourself
“What is my life’s work worth”?
and, by Forty-five you’re questioning
the reason for your birth.
So, at Fifty you’re reborn again
And become a real go-getter.
By Fifty-five, your world has changed
And things just aren’t the same;
And at Sixty you’re pretty tired of
Playing life’s weary game.
At Sixty-five, you’re amazed
At all the things gone wrong;
And at Seventy, you realize,
Your past has come and gone.
So at Seventy-five you sit and laugh
At all your long past pain.
But it all passes by so quickly that
It’s gone before you know it;
And it takes less time to beat the clock,
Than it does to up and throw it!
So before you frown about the thought
That life is such a downer,
Picture your life the way you would
If you were an “out-of-towner”.
‘Cause it takes less time to spend a life,
Than it does to grow it;
And it won’t be long.
La Citadel Grandé Hotel
Jaak Tallinn - 2017
From Old Town Habana
To Copacabana
Youthful time travelers tell
There’s so much more fanfare
And no place quite grander
Than ‘La Citadel Grandé Hotel’
La Esplanade Prado
Flows past it like moon glow
While ladies and gentlemen yell
From the beaches and bars
And from old classic cars
They come to relax for a spell.
The Malecón coast
Up the road from that post
Too sea-swept and fancy to quell
Keeps everyone gleeful
And full of good people
Where ladies and gentlemen dwell
They all come to party
At the Café de Marti’
With customers doing quite well;
Where wood fired pizza
And smart looking matrons
Offer their wares for sale
The proud Prado restaurant
With Promenade patrons
And Cuisine that rings a bell
With great menu fare
More people go there
And placate their stomachs quite well.
So, come to the party
Along with the hearty
And escort your favorite gal;
In Cuba, Habana
Along Prado de Marti’
At La Citadel Grandé Hotel
Nuts
Jaak – South China Seas, 1974
Old man sitting on a stone park bench
Underneath a sycamore tree.
The bench as old as the earth is new
But how old can a sycamore be?
Children play in the green grass park,
Their lives seem careless and free.
Squirrels squeal on the ground
While the children chirp in the trees.
Listening to the warm thin breeze,
It promises eternity.
But the old man knows in his crying heart
That life’s gonna set him free.
Farewell foolish young childhood,
Empty dreams that seemed to flee.
The older you get, the wiser you are.
Old man was too late to see.
How sweet is sweet young innocence?
How bitter is reality?
How soon do you learn the bitter truth?
How sweet is your melancholy?
Dead leaves dance in an autumn breeze
Where a sycamore used to be.
And another seed grows
Next to a stone park bench
Where begins a new sycamore tree.
Jaak – South China Seas, 1974