marshall-gass
Businessman, Teacher,Poet,Novelist,Dreamer,Researcher,Management Consultant. Have 2 Masters Degrees. 2 PG Diplomas and an incomplete PhD. Have published widely in Technology, TechEd, Science, Poetry, Journals, Opinions, Philosophy,Business Management and Religion. Travelled widely worldwide on highways, lanes and alleyways. Enjoy writing, and especially poetry. My first novel: The Chrysanthemum Trilogy: Transition is now published and is available at Amazon. / Please check out www.amazon.com/author/marshallgass ( ISBN 9781493137848) / / Two books of poetry will also be published within a week at Shoestring Publishers, USA. "Whispers in a Thunderstorm Volume 1 & Chiaroscuro Volume 11 / I hope to write on this site everyday and publish about 500 poems!
impeccable artwork
splayed red anger
diffused dangerously
imminent explosion
take down your temper
ice it in silence
spread change
draw conclusions
inherent haste
find tranquility
in people places
abstract soliloquy
ethereal furnace
split skin burnt moments
wanderer waking
in a strange place
stars foretell
insipid futures
we are destined
for another ice age?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 days ago
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11770244-zodiac-misfired.....-by-Marshall-Gass-noguest#sthash.DX0ajG0s.dpuf
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
racing with the heartbeat
along the black striped road
pumping pedals, dreaming
entrances exits lanes bylanes
timing out and in
thinking cap on
music keeping pace
i am home
here in the small city
coffee smells like coffee
people smile like people
trees look greener
the church stands out
lakes glisten with shivering skins
children play happily
i park in the park
i am here
sojourn into nights
at break of dawn
i will return to point B
fulfilled with 250 miles
of ecstasy.
the poems rise from the mist
of bygone memories
and words tumble waterfalls
of lust and longing
where is she?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 4 days ago
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 2:00 PM UTC
mangled jangled in the space of race
he looked purple shadowed with wide eyes
and wonder
unafraid of escape he
still stayed locked in a love affair
need and greed
lust and bust
time ticked painlessly
wrinkles grew rich
obscurity haven
until at last
a resurrection.
Now he creates art
and happiness
riding into the sunset of verses
where sense and nonsense
merge in a mystical aura.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 5 days ago
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
aint got no home?
watz wit der smokey ayes
aint got no famly
no roof?
wur you goin, bro?
i aint got no dolla
no mo pahwuh
no momma
son gone stoopid
dotter freakin out
in der good
im broke and dun fer
gotta a spare coin?
i can sing
from me soul. yeah
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 10 days ago
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
my soul was black hanging on a graffitti fence
down by the corner street
where crack and needles punctuated the alleyway
with no hope.
brother hid from brother
and sisters wore mini mini mini skirts
to draw the danger from the honking cars
into the pool of light cast by the one surviving
bulb
on a lamp post of desolation
he had slick hair and sharp notches
on his belt, danging chains
that reminded him of time inside
the dungeons where he gained
his qualifications in years behind
the bars of justice.
Out on the street, it was mayhem
a blue car siren-ed off into the distance
careened across the road
and vanished into upper class society
where they ate pink cakes and sipped herbal teas
as morning cleaned the streets of darkness
the sunshine grew the window sill
stacked with marijuana.
It was just another day to be alive.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 11 days ago
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
Foundations managed by slow ascent
to reasons seeking
solace in the upper spaces of the minds
reckoning.
I surrender to the pull
drawing me into territories
gateways to untold stories
palaces built on crystal dreams
we search for meanings not deciphered
yet remain locked in a haze
of old rituals, escape impossible
until at last the bud blooms
buildings complete
and mansions perched
on bright stars
light up the way forward.
The journey remains uncharted.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 10 days ago
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
Chester knew his mistress
the one with the copper burnished fingers
and slow delicate smile, longing eyes,
soft skin and smell like violets in
sizzling summer heat.
He curled up in his cardboard box
and kept his ears open to all sounds
around the pool and table
aware but asleep
Call his name and he will leap to life
eyes of glass, melting in a soft head
full of affection fur flying for a cuddle
little tail wagging welcome attention.
Chester knew his way with the world
his wisdom perfect and plenty.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 18 days ago
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
nuns floated on serene slabs of silence
like penguins of patience
waiting for the summer of noise and nuisance
to batter the baptismal vow
of tranquility.
i was alone here
my sins magnified and enormous against
the leadlight windows and bare walls
light streaming rainbows of meaning
through the high altar windows
onto sheets of spotless white souls
singing in harmony-not a stitch out of tune
angels of mercy.
Slinking by the giant font
huddled and hugged by incense absorbed
embroidered seat covers of pews
i was afraid my sinful stains
would corrupt this magnificence.
there is a god i could not see
a spirit resting in the moment
angels flitting about keeping calm
ushering in the penitents
and patting the innocents.
slowly but surely the walls
began to tremble with acceptance
and my voice found a note in the hymnal
and i surrendered to the honeysuckle tone
of the sisters in praise and song.
Author Notes
True.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 24 days ago
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
Going astray was easy in those heady days
rocked by Woodstock and groupies
lazing in the limelight of nothingness
I felt liberated from cagey traditions
and floated free in beads and baubles
unkempt, unwise and soaked in sin and ***
That's when I met the Master himself
at a midnight rendezvous in a quiet chapel
the night of January 7,'73
It rocked my world with wonder.
Here was an escape route from slow descent
into darkness and I took it. The return was slow
but steady upwards, even as I mended
all the broken parts of my life.
The before and after of the same coin
still cha-chings on and off but
sensibility returned and once the fences were
fixed and the lights switched on
the journey to recovery was quickened by reason
Today as I look back, the dark side of me
still beckons but the bright side draws
me into a place that has more meaning.
I am here to stay.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 26 days ago
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
life on a desktop
wound in cables
chased by errant mice
unreasoning keyboards
follow my grammatical errors
dramatic mirrors
that reflect shining
on a faceless society.
where are the gentlemen
that doff hats
wish the world good weather forecasts
and carry singe roses
clasped by pearly white teeth?
not possible from inside
a cabin caged
like a prized animal
punching numbers
dishing dirt
conquering the world
in imaginary victories
of body and soul.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 25 days ago
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC