Marshal Gebbie: Favorites

4d Marshal Gebbie

Jimmy silker

The cartographer coddled by the satnav
He used to be king of the map
But he's become so reliant on it
Feels He should hand his qualifications back

The photographer produced such sterling work
Unattainable to the average ****
Now his darkroom tricks
Honed over decades
Leaves all cold
who can't do that?
We all reckoned

The scriptwriter a decade back
Pretended empathy with the working man
Total automation was the track
No human error was the plan
I'm ok I'm a creative they wouldn't dare replace me
Besides he laughed
No virtual engine could capture
The eternal verities.

We are not economically viable.

5d Marshal Gebbie

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5d Marshal Gebbie

Zeno

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I don't know what I was looking for,
in the honey draped lights flashing
in my eyes
And the sound of music
that keeps on playing and playing

And the wind that laps over my face
as the world turns,
Like horses running on axis,
weaving through the lines of shadow
and fireworks
And in their trail, I found
stardust that shimmers and shimmers

I found it confusing sometimes
In the endless mirrors and lights
that spirals in my mind
Like vines coiled around poles
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And the looming sweetness that lingers,
like pink foam swirling in my mouth

I smiled towards the dying sunset,
thinking it would last forever
I try not to close my eyes
and not be blinded
by the world slowly slipping
away

Before the music dies
Before the yellow stars burn out
You might not hear my voice
or even remember my name
But I just want you to know that

I was here

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#carousel

6d Marshal Gebbie

Silly girl.

6d Marshal Gebbie

brooke

Silly girl.

After thomas died—

I started getting tattoos because
I was suffocating myself in grief
drowning daily in my bed,
in the bathroom, in the yard
laying beached in the grass
beneath a deluge of confusion
no water for miles but I am still
Sinking

Drifting through the Surrey hallways
as an apparition, his blood
on my shins
Garrett’s muffled voice asking
If we could just clean her up

Not yet, we need pictures.

I am a callow soul, his death has stripped me
my mother is calling me a silly girl for
The Psalms on my forearm
Luke across my thigh
for Nehemiah down my spine
I am trying not to die and
all she can focus on is
the wisp of a golden girl gone

This is the catalyst,
the turning point, the ordained moment—
I have not had many of these but when they come they are all encompassing;
I am suddenly not me anymore but
Wet clay, the potter has unmade
me nearly beyond recognition

death has come
And the lord has let it shape me

Death came and it almost took me—
I fought for my life and all my mother could say was

Silly girl

..

(C) Brooke Otto 2025

May 16 Marshal Gebbie

Hook Him up to the Machine

May 16 Marshal Gebbie

Thomas W Case

Hook Him up to the Machine

Hook him up to the machine.
Shock his brain into
mediocrity.
Death stalks him;
he is aware.
There is too much
flash in his eyes.
His brain needs a reboot;
he needs to forget,
like a goldfish, like
a monkey in the zoo.
Hook him up to the machine.
He is too sentimental.
Salmon swim in his blood;
he has a paisley heart,
and a tie-dye soul.
He can smell colors.
Hook him up to the machine.
He has Van Gogh eyes, and
a Bukowski gut; he walks
like he's lost in a maze;
hunchback sadness,
butcher knife nerves,
Hook him up to the machine.
He believes in love,
and has too much trust.
His vivid green memory
is a curse, we need to
crash it, **** the eternal spring.
Hook him up to
the machine.

My latest book, Sleep Always Calls, is available on Amazon. Here is a link to my YouTube channel, where I read my poetry. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ozzFlYnbGZU&t=1s

#life #pain

May 16 Marshal Gebbie

ABUNDANCES

May 16 Marshal Gebbie

Traveler

ABUNDANCES

An abundance of life
In a cycle of death
How much living
Could we have left?

An abundance of stars
Displayed in the sky
Endless pleasures
On a summer's night
Hear and see
Touch and feel
The reality of existence
Consume at will

An abundance of love
To plant in our graves
Pushing up daisies
I wish we could stay
......

Traveler Tim

#traveler

May 16 Marshal Gebbie

Seeking Peace

May 16 Marshal Gebbie

Stephen E Yocum

Seeking Peace

Where were these feelings of peace when
I was younger. Back when I overthought
everything and strove too hard for more
than merely enough.

Old man at 80, reflective thoughts,
that Peace even tranquilly resides
within us all, we must endeavor
to find it within us. Shiny objects
can be distractions to the things
that truly matter.
But try not to wait until you are
80 to find this out.

May 16 Marshal Gebbie

A Breathe of Stillness

May 16 Marshal Gebbie

Breann

A Breathe of Stillness

I crave the hush of a world asleep,
Where shadows stretch and secrets keep.
To melt into the void so wide,
No ticking clocks, no tides to bide.

Beneath the moon’s cold silver eye,
I’d let the noisy moments die.
The breeze would kiss my weary skin,
And stir the stillness deep within.

A pen, a page, a heart laid bare—
Each thought a whisper in the air.
No roles to play, no masks to wear,
Just me, the night, the quiet stare.

Oh, to pause this spinning sphere,
To breathe in peace, to disappear.
Not forever—just a breath,
A stillness sweet enough to death.

How I crave that gentle cease—
A fleeting second carved from peace.

May 16 Marshal Gebbie

further north than Moscow

May 16 Marshal Gebbie

nivek

further north than Moscow

sunshine through the blinds
light almost 24/7
a strange time called Summer
-a long drawn out affair
further north than Moscow.

May 16 Marshal Gebbie

I Am An Eagle

May 16 Marshal Gebbie

S E Pope

I Am An Eagle

My ex used to say I was his little bird
I thought maybe because I was so small
And every morning I would sing sweet songs
As the sun peaked high through our window

In the evenings we'd sit beside the emptied bath
He'd say I was as cute as a baby white dove
Without knowing I instead began to mourn the life
I had before I held his disconnected love

An endless yearning had grown in my heart
To soar above the rooftops and tall trees
I had evidently become his effortless prey
Falling in love that young is so naïve

I believed I was that measly little bird
A hollow ***** victim crying over clipped wings
Another sacrifice to romanced circumstance
So I built a nest around regret and lost dignity

I used to hate being called his little baby bird
But he had convinced me that we were equal
Until I realized he was the frail white-winged dove
And he caged me because I was an eagle

Inspired from the song "I Was An Eagle" by Laura Marling.