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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

nestled in the fist of fury
followers following followers
machine numbers generated
to the size of egos

the devils henchman lurks
saturated by cryptic code
destruction embedded
in his fused brain

waiting

to puncture your alterego
and spill your conscience
into a crucible of sacrifices
on the altar of recognition

indecent pictures
bloated for primetime consumption
on the sidewalks of galley slaves
surfing social media
with oars of phony cosmetic
happiness. where do you stand?

welcome to a world of make-believe.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 27 days ago

hidden in the eyelashes
silk and silicone implants
weeds grew in abundance
weedkiller did not work
nor did steam cleaning. washing
down ever

the lies surfaced
through soft tissue face
and the eyes of glass glittered
in abject rage.

done
i was by the justice system
seeking solace in its open arms
winners walk away with
victories of deceit.

stood alone in the dock
waiting for the sunshine
to emerge unscathed
from this battlefield
of deception.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 3 days ago

Break bread
as wood
set the table in symmetry
serve wine in decanters
sit, pray
eat to remember

the ark of the covenant
kingdoms in biblical times
unscathed testimonies
time tested rituals
follow through

to eternity
forty days of flooded alcoholic nights
blind stupor
fall in love
die slowly.

is there a kingdom
waiting?

Not sure yet.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 3 days ago

22%. take it or leave it
wanna  car?
payback is on the 10th of every month

*** is this identity?
is this you man?
you look drawn with charcoal anger
black as sin, beady eyed.

go away
take the money
i'll come around on 9th
just to remind you to pay next day

now leave
customers are waiting.

these losers

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 7 days ago

The numbers generate ecstasy
even as the cliff hangers succumb
to decipher the drop from high citadels
to lower domains

magic numbers that evolve
and translate into feedback feedforward
the impulse designates time
follows through to understanding

social media
ROI? whats that
innocence offered
for momentary meetings
in cyberspace

a face
instant  tactile recognition
few profiles last longer than milliseconds
the ones that do stay forever.

i met my soulmate
on one such platform.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 8 days ago

There were these poems
hashed together in haste
insipid limp and lifeless
devoid of dare, unable to stir the mind
into frenzied ecstasy
no sparkle no lustre
no meaning to extract.
daily fluff

They were enjoyable too
***** linen on a laundry line
unpegged and nonrhythmic
unmetaphoric, unnamed
first liners
homeless words with unhappy visuals
floating in a sea of ****
just sitting on a page
dead

so many of mine are exactly like that
unwanted, homeless little beasts
cooked up in a frenzy of  haste
pompous and pretentious
lying like a cold corpse
on a concrete slab in some strange mortuary
name tag on a toe
waiting for a quick burial.

Ive decided to write better poems now
leave the fluff to be vacuumed away
and spend long hours thinking through
the magic that rises from mists
of intense thinking.

once a month
with twenty nine drafts.
no more mediocre for me.
goodbye readers
see you again next month
take care while i work up a froth.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 11 days ago

Once in  a while
your countenance collapses
into laughter
even as the insults bully you
into submission
but no you will not take pain
treat it as a private crucifixion
your cross seems unheavy
your burden blessed
Miss Understanding

Author Notes

A play on the word Understanding. Bullying is a no-no yet there are Miss Understandings that understand the meaning of taking it on the chin without being pulled into the misery  of others.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 16 days ago

the genius mind trapped in a useless body
grew suspicious of growth around him
and he descended into a rat hole-keyboard
at the ready, about to stamp his signature tunes
into all the world's PCs. He did.

They scrambled to find this broken code
found a rat trapped in a dark underground cage
of inhibitions. quietly hacking into everyone's fancy.

why did you do this? the grey haired judge asked
brimming over his glasses with curiosity.
I hate the world. He mumbled.

Ten years. Go live midst the wounded
discover and share pain, return when you
know love, and see with your eyes
hear the words spoken and be prepared
to use your skills to repair broken code

be among the people.be healed again.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 21 days ago

Buried in the birchwood camps where wood rot
and leaves trace many summers of being
Lies the old skeletal remains of a frisky deer
Silently sleeping eyes, glazed and stricken tongue
hanging out of of lucid mouth
pellet covered with heart muscle and frozen sinews

Hunter ravaging the forest for fresh meat
struck at the dawn of reason and aiming
pulled a perfect shot at grazing deer but struck
the one that wasn't looking directly. The others
sped into the thicket down the hill away.

Life and death intermingled in the gloom
of wanting and not wanting. The hunter walked away
rather than cross the valley for quarry
and burden his strained back for his prize.

Further down in the sparse sandy gorse and shrub
other smaller prizes waiting undisturbed by the
crack of death higher up. Life benign

Again he lowered rifle to his squinting eye
and squeezed the trigger. The sound echoed
across the valley, through the birchwood  trees
and quiet calmed the pulsing  racing hearts.

The hunter picked his carcass from the gorse and soil
and headed home. Guilty of of greed, two deaths for one small
meal of roasted meat to share his whisky thirst.
The night descended with its blanket of black
and other  predators shredded their prize uphill
thankful for lazy  hunters.

Life and death balanced itself in the wilderness
nature spoke with  an even tone.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 23 days ago

bend blend  isps
dollar dogs selling
dots and dashes
swollen checks
moving tech
managing bytes
bits of signals
captivating conscience
insufferable desire
fleece skin off bone
burst in the turbo jangle
of just reason

wheres the world
facebook fallacy
the twitter tornado
linkedin longing

communication dig
dangers of disaster
lurking in fields of
phantom moments

real people with unreal
expectations.

we are trapped
in this whirlpool
of wonder tech.
digitheism approaches
rapidly.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 24 days ago

on this sea of social turbulence
skin dictates
the price of the ticket
rotating rainbows-no more whites
red is distinct
black is forbidden fruit
cast into the ghettos of the decaying mind
banished from the beauty of eden. why?

we all came from a pinpoint in evolution
in clusters we migrated
to the corners of the globe
seeking multi-verses of origin
yet we create hierarchies of skintone. why?

the gaps in our thinking
are like holes in a doughnut
spiraling galaxies of hate
into whirlpools of ignorance.why?

cast into the seed core
is a colorless quantum of choice
the difference -your destiny. think.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

particle flight within sight
movement in motion delight
the faster you go the greater the traction
the broader the front
instant reaction.
      
no world is safe in heavens gate
nothing is conquered so late
try as you might  its always alright
pace out a lifetime-take flight

where are we now in the rush hour of life
what did we gain, in the struggle and strife
why not accept the fate that is ours
settle in grandly, ignore the powers

Author Notes

Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

The setting sun has a way
of creeping up on you
with cherry red coloured dreams
nights as naughty as little gnomes
flitting about in escapades
of soft silk lusts.

Once the night embraces you
with its cloak of stars
velvet summer laziness
and tomorrows never there

its time to take the fullness of today
into the emptiness of tomorrow
and slip into that twilight zone
where all the magic materializes
on why we love these special spring days.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

splendid voices
choices
what we do delves deep
into our mystical selves
regurgitate
hope

whats in a poem
if not experience
fragments of a poets mind
in some structure.

we write because the barrage
of words embracing visuals
is ceaseless.

experiment
with power.
posture in metaphors
and allsorts
of devices
until satiated.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

is that hemlock with your words
numb and nice wisdom demolished
one sip
gone into Hades
where flatlines collect
irrespective of  consequence.

is that your tail
behind my back
checking out my misdemeanors
collecting the wild oats
that I sowed
in silicon valleys?

don't mistrust me
i paid the price of hell
to be here in this paradise
fishing for jonah
and
the great whale.

come let us lay together
in this poetic swamp
encapsulate
our doubts in tupperware
tightness, move on into
no explanations required.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

Dust gathers
insipid dreams
we return to atoms
what is in it after all
death or life
wounded memories
splayed broken

we write because
unburdening happens
wonder what social media
does to the facade we build
cosmetic bridges
imaginary castles
impregnable fortresses

capillaries to the heart
blocked channels
voices of velvet sounds
cascading in the night
of doubt.The dust settles
after the storm

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

All it takes is two words spoken with eyes of wonder
finding its way to the sublime.
How only some could understand the vastness
of its poetic meanings -is amazing

Yet it spins whirlpools of countless words
that silk and sing in wondrous unison
making sense of itself all the time.

Such is love, the look askance,
the touch felt through great distance
understood clearly
as if skin melted against skin
in some ethereal furnace
moulding beings who
'are on the same page'
every single time.

There must be the four seasons
written into their genetic make-up,
as if,
they were moulded in the same crucible.
Permanently.

Author Notes

Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

just as delicate as piano keys making music
the black plastic tickles
the whites embossed
something lit up like Christmas trees
joyous in their duties

the keyboard strokes dictate
what our fingers cannot do
we are trapped in this entourage
sending, receiving, erasing data
flows like -like little lava streams
racing faster with two fingered urgency

such novel
ideas written in word-processed perfection
poems of technological wonders
endless streams
collecting into rivers of words
until at least the verbal sea
explodes  reason to this keyboard
of  entries alpha-numeric
patient progress.
Who is watching us as we work?

Author Notes

simple object-technological gateway.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

Swing on the wild side if you must
Mingle with masters,  pare down your craft
Let not the magic in you, wrinkle  or rust
Apply and polish  that draft!

Learn what it is to shape your style
Follow your dreams to completion
Take in those experiences, stay for awhile
Writing is never -exhaustion!.

Take all advice, others may offer you
Build up your daily reserve
Pick all the apples,  poets may proffer you
Write whatever you deserve

Make it a habit to test out your words
Dance within visuals of fun
Try as you might for all that you write
Today  the writings begun.!

Author Notes

Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

Charms  present itself as attributes
in cloak and dagger, blood still dripping
with the last **** envious hate, insidious
beasts, burdened by the bronze culture
impervious to the shallow golden calf
shrouded in the sinister guise
of compassion.

Why do the radicals look
up to the sky  praise god for approval
on own inequities
bolstered by the book of prophets
who did not see these acts
as sanctity or sacred.

The contradictions balance
between heaven and hell
even as the world turns to watch
the anguish of beliefs in agony.

Go now seek the desert of doom.
to announce meaningless mantras
for the wisdom of attention.
Burn in the terrible dawn of discovery.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

compressed into tight tingles
escape impossible
boundaries high
sold into solitude
stay anchored to hope
change no direction

tigress locked in a cage
still a tigress
unchangeable attributes
life ****** away
in solace

break free from *******
fight snarl escape
don't turn back
look beyond the mirror
take no reflections
flee. now.
find yourself again.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

the eye sees
mathematics-coordinates computed
chance takes over
38-24-36
that's me -a ******
seeking shape in all its forms
flesh and bone structure
salt swamps silicon valleys
the lapping of tongues
with no specific language
just a flicker
its worth it all.

are you done, darling?
forever is where i've just arrived
unkempt brazen ****** animal

are you into **** gyms
don't stretch, break -a-bone
half yourself into acrobatic circuses
******* of delight.Remember boundaries
we are decent people.

touch me here
words stand up-ready?

our volcanoes
are locked up in traditional
cages, awaiting escape
flutter free.

Is this where geometric shape
take its chance.

How much? Travelers Cheques
are a decade old
I have a flight to catch!
Whats your name?
Ok! Forget it?

Author Notes

'I just took my mind back from the gutter for this cumpetition"
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

musical walls of throbbing
meaning
makeshift footsteps
escaping tendons
lashing tongues
notes of splendour
****** in my trombone-chills

whats the wizardry
in those piano fingers
belting blues
rainbow ecstasies
oozing ****** gyrations
three minute *******
splitting night into slivers
for tomorrows takings

lets dance
jam together
touch each others souls
with promise.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

We did not ask for agreements or signatures
even a due diligence, check out each others
entrails, internet outcomes, criminal records
social security numbers
marriage licenses, children's ages, moles
on our mountains of doubt
even a fingerprint on a bare breast
phone numbers, mates and mistresses
drinking and smoking habits
salad preferences, vegan, bogan or  whatever.

We did, however, listen to that heartbeat
the words we spoke, the pictures we drew
finished, the colours that we painted
between rainbows
and the children we dreamed
who would look like you and me
if ever born
and how smart they would be
and as naughty as those little titters
of laughter, that cleared every checkbox.
on this shopping list for a mate!

We knew that this partnership existed
there was nothing we could do
to unbreak this bond that grew
from a tiny little seed
into this one big giant momentum
of togetherness.

That's a worthwhile partnership
several levels above commercial simplicity.

Author Notes

The romance continues.......
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

Bruised and beaten in the salt swamped oceans
burnt to crackled skin, unbarked, floating
highways in the waters racing, warm
blanket of currents, tossed in the tide
of reaching places, far off shores
infested by man -eating sharks
piranha fish,  electric eels, the boat of misery
finds its channel to freedom
on some strange islet that leads
to unkempt land.

Not wanted in their own country
scratching for existence
watching nirvana on Channel 52
each scampers in the dead of night
to find a home in other unwanted countries
abandoned on the beach of mercy.

The war on poverty will rage
around polished tables of policies
and the rich will get richer
while the poor get  children.

We are driftwood dressed in a society
with new bark-like skins.

Author Notes

immigrants.Watch as the world disintegrates into driftwood.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

Each of the little words you wrote
placed in a prefect location clinging
embracing, drawing other words in
into a glowing hug-were important
to keep this bridge between us
permanently reaching out
to each other.

You must know that morning roses
and evening perfumes were kissed
by your complete tenderness
and all I could do was wish upon a star
your universe and mine would mingle
in that eternal oneness
that we created from each others souls.

You must know that all this longing
was born in a distinct realm
which we understood so well
and yet we have never met.
How do we know these simple things
without  any explanation?
There must be  a heartbeat
that we shared in some other lifetime?

You must know that simplicity
is a combination of complexities
and all that we say and do
revolves around the others living moments.
What else is there for us to know
in a lifetime of discovery.

Author Notes

Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

As delicate as doom the imagination flutters
in a closed space where strange aliens
hobbits and men with muscular women
inhabit caves with endless tunnels
travelling from one end to the other.  
Stop I must in this vaporous realm
unable to struggle free, trapped

Who am I that waits for the eternal
longing to come full cycle, take me into
its open arms and surround me
in delicate gossamer finery
silk brocade and lace, vague eyes,
strong faces. blue venom
bursting as I scamper into the undergrowth

unafraid of demons and spirits
evil or splendorous  beings, cascading
through the nightmares of knowing
that every journey must meet Olympus
and Greek gods like Minotaur's
carry the golden fleece to us mere mortals
escaping the claustrophobia
social norms
even as we tumble into the dead
end of a never ending roadway of rules.

Author Notes

Abstract and inescapable. At times it feels like this when you cannot do what you really want to do. Escape.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

Doctored in genetic cauldrons
for wine seeking solace in perfection
engineered tactfully within testtubes
of formulae
extracted and compressed
its testicles removed
the grape rendered impotent.

how strange
that we surgically implant
and speak to inner workings
to consumerise
everything we need.

chickens battery farmed
cows turf grassed
pigs in poultry cages
men in monkey suits
playing god in the paddocks of doom.

maybe we should
just leave things alone
and nature will be fine.

Author Notes

Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

On the highways of utopia
stretching pleasure to people
insane with passions pages
I rolled along on tyres
trundling down mountains and valleys
salt swamps, honey mustard nights
pumping iron clad nozzles
energetic bursts of *******
countless stopovers
unburst wheels
mechanical breakdowns of the minds
metaphors of meaning

I settled then on a roadway
in Alaska
destroyed broken beaten
used and dirtied
by grease monkeys and maniacs
unkempt gearshifts of dollars and dimes

life was touch and go
when I parked in a nirvana slot
for good.
Out on the dusty ****
emblazoned with fingerprints
a wisecrack wrote:
I wish my wife was this *****!

Author Notes

A ***** Truck.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

We are but streams of atoms
saturated with strange beliefs
rituals and rants, circuses of  meaningless blather

yet we follow trodden footpaths
to the same end
once gone, gone for good.

all the crap that comes with afterlife
all the books and mementos gone too
'gone for good'

so this is life
live it in abundance
dance where you must
become a borderline personality
write meaningless drivel
so what

religion exists because people exist
did god make man or man make god?

bury me with no mantra or magic
or shoot me into space
once again into the stream of atoms
of nothingness.

Author Notes

Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

The night closes down its comfort zone
drowning in the dusk of musk scented sleep
alone with wild energies seeking solace
in strange arms, unknown banter
as we leave behind the dancing day
busy footsteps in a race to finish at five

heading home, the day trails behind
heavy footsteps locked inside a casket
of memories for tomorrow, will surely
bring its cold chill and diary notes
to keep us pushing on.

Yet the evening has its own secrets
wine and wishes, sip by sip, as we unwind
our stories of a stressful day, people we met
spoke to in brisk tones, carried briefcases
of lecture notes, and walked the corridors
of learning, always mindful of the clock
and learners grasping at straws as I,
deliver the technological wonders that
unfold in young brains, still unable to grasp
how society heaves and sighs with wanting more.

Someday soon I will leave this job
walk in the wilderness of the country side
smell fresh earth and newly mowed lawns
watch sunrise and sunset and cows
grazing blissfully unaware of my presence.

Age has its own miracles meeting new goddesses
from distant lands, who see deep into the simmering
beauty of what I create in words and visuals
and who give  all the praise and glory tenfold
with unselfish sharing and caring.My heart beats for them.

I wish, I wish for those young and folly days
when I wandered a strange wilderness
writing and reading and sharing and knowing
that life itself was engineered to be like this evening
of velvet smoothness and silky toned romances
that few knew drove me to write like this endlessly

Back to the night which has just waved goodbye
to the last lingering twilight for today and pulled
its subtle robe of shadows and faint lights around itself
and enclosed me in its delicate grasp of wonder.

I see my lover, far far away, as if, she were here,
reading and feeling and knowing that she is my muse
and all the temples that I build with my words and visuals
are solely for her enjoyment.She draws me in a circle.

Good night, my love. I will rise with you
at the dawn of the next day!

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

In the bowl where beauty lies
enriching its in its glow
remains an enigma that drives
deep shadows to the surface

we don't see everything we want
to see or show , analyse, own or disown
we may fail to seek all the answers
a torrid past, a broken heart
a blistered and bruised ego
something fragile, festering fuming underneath
the facade , creating a silhouette skin,
cosmetic exterior, mannequin interior
a patchwork quilt of emotions
restless, unready, growing.

we take what we see
in complete trust, faith beatified
drawn into the magnetic depths
seeking the pole star
sailing unkempt oceans
raging against the silhouette
that clearly conquered
the magnificence of the moment.

Love has no shadows
just a glowing light.

Author Notes

The journey to love.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

It was, after all, an internet rose,
selected from google images,
carefully placed in a pool of succulent words
vanilla bean and gooey smoothness
bordered with delicate lace on the pages
a small bleeding heart stapled
to the top of the page

But oh! how she loved its beauty.
She smelt the heady aroma, licked the chocolate
and converted to vanilla slurp
and juicy apple kisses.

We slept well that night
ten thousand miles apart.
Romantically ready
for the journey across oceans
with towering waves
and saw toothed sharks
piranhas and nirvanas
all jumbled up and waiting
for this togetherness.

Author Notes

Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

Im done and dusted
packed away in a shoebox
of transparent memories

what was last night about?
delicate dreams in filigree flight
crisp as lettuce
crunchy to the core
yet adding that joie-de-vivre
to the seduction of senses

I'm truly done and dusted
as I stagger into todays
escapades of poetic fancy
unable to filter the diamonds
from the dust of dreams.

tomorrow may be
better when the serenity sails in
to calm the raging forest fire
of expression.

Author Notes

Escapism in its truest form,unable to keep pace with the thrill of creating newer poems with sensory effects. Does it work?I don't know. You decide
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

Walls of reinforced steel
reserve, packed high
with political ambitions
the steps leading up
into the night sky of diamonds,
for prayers from the pulpit of  doom
to those huddled below in the basement
chants and incense sticks
the temple stood imposing
upon every worshipers fear.

She was more than *****
as she danced snakes
gyrating to  the tax collections of
repentance. At night she coiled
around the sanctum sanctorum
of greed and faked ******* of deceit.

God gave -the  priest didn't!

Author Notes

Even if God gave the priest wouldn't?
Contemplation 11
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

As deep and rounded as the entrance
to a vast cave receding into emptiness
of the minds magic, the corridor stalked,
stalked the living and the lost with its presence

swerving into the undergrowth where
demons existed with magic potions
and mystical visions of an unknown hell
surrendered, we, to its vicissitudes
of wanton lust, nights of passion,ignoble strife
wandering in the mists of reason
searching for the souls location
in an unkempt place
where nothing reasonable existed
in this inferno of hate.

There was darkness, dense and deep
with screams reverberating
chilling spectacles of loss
as each one clambered over the others
mistakes
repeating the same, twice over.

There was a thin ray at the far end
and piecing the darkness like a
laser stab, this light found us huddled
in a network of nothingness
devoid of all senses, stripped of all sensation
afraid even to look at its glare
completely ignorant of who we were
or why we were located in this hell
of no mercy.

We searched for the  ray, blinding
in its beauty, and we held on to it
like a rope of discovery
struggling to find its source
in some far off kingdom
where the electric, supernatural power of mercy
emanated endlessly.

Leaving aside all that we carried
as heavy baggage
materialism and magic
raging hate and loneliness
pain and poverty, injustice,
everything that weighted us down
in an unwanted space

we struggled free from the chains
that bound us to our greed.

God stood at the entrance.
He had no face
no necklaces of gold or diamonds
or even a loose garb
He had no blonde hair
no angelic eyes
nothing in fact
adorned in the scriptures
nothing man like in making

The entity stood there
clean as the light
and we surrendered in haste
at this complete abandon.

The corridor closed behind us
as we walked into the light
of day. This was the moment
when levitation made sense
and we rose up on judgement day
to face the consequences
of our actions.

Author Notes

A metaphorical meeting of Heaven and Hell.

Contemplation 8
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

The alleyway was dark and dusty
plastic wrappers clinging to corners
of depression , escape trapped by wind shifts
swirling in the tunnels of hope,
desperate drips from broken pipes
beating a soulful click, click
breaking into puddles of slime.

He lay there motionless
unmoved by the activity around him
devoid of all sound and sense
asleep in his gutter of dreams
still
eyes shut.

Asleep he was unmoving
Christ himself
crucified on the cross
of an alcoholic society.

His only resurrection
a few drinks away. .......

Author Notes

AA?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 months ago

Does stillness echo in the heart of quietness?
Beating rhythmically churning old memories
Into new shapes of pain, soundlessly stealing time
Writing its wrinkles under big broad smiles.

I miss you more
after  you left.
Your shadow still lingers in the light of my day

Your words bounce off the walls
Of my emotions, and I reach for your touch
My skin crackles with the urge of wanting

How do I know you feel the same way?
Although, I know, you do.
The same signals that separate us
Also bind us. Why is that so?

Why does a stranger have to write my longing
In his words?

How does she see underneath the pulse
Of my sentences?

What makes her
Understand me
Completely?

Author Notes

Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 months ago

filigree fibres
networks neurons
splitting hairs
pumping digital maniacs
across countless spheres
connecting wise and wanton
split second messaging

we live in the eternity
of  answers
we have forgotten how to sharpen pencils
fold paper
communicate
face to face

all inwards
we create islands of loneliness
the minds mantra
to isolation weirdness

hello people
hear me?

Author Notes

Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

This must be the banana
republic
slipping around by the skin
of their teeth

Each inhabitant
as nutty as a fruitcake
policies and pancakes
slippery slopes
for politicians
and perverts!

Author Notes

Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago