i am
considering
buying tickets
to a lecture
on the cosmos
though my thoughts
have often
dwelt
amongst the celestials
in one form
   or another
i know little
beyond
what was learnt
at school;
cursory details
when the vastness
of the universe
is considered

there is a desire
to understand
   from where we came
   of what made us
   how we came to be
and
   our chances
      for a future
there is
a radiance
and pageantry
to the stars;
an expanse
that should incite
inspiration
   and wonder
instead
this infinity
is a subject
dominated by
doomsdayers
   and
      doomsayers
without much
pity left
for
the rest of us

if i do
choose
to attend
i know that
i’ll be lost
to the magnificence
of the dwarfs
   and nebulas
understanding
at best
half
of all that
is proffered

to be honest
i’m not sure
its worth
the £50
plus postage
when i think
i can predict
how it will end;
warnings
will be given
and advice
   imparted
unfortunately
there is
no guarantee
i will still
be listening

You can have it all, if you don't need nothing
Keep the good vibes rolling, if it helps with one's loving
It's like a whole EDM festival, coming from your mouth
Not like those turntable dudes, down in the deep south
I thought DJs had had their freestyle spinning last days
Like Catholic church priests and their unholy ******* ways

Licking soda-pops over a long hot summer holiday
Kissing a girl named, Katy Perry, the very next day
Licking it all up, before she shows her b-SiDE
Then screams to three, to come on back inside
Like snatching the America's Cup, with Ben Lexcen’s winning keel
While somewhere amongst the hills of Hollywood’s La La Land
Whole plates of food, just going to waste, inside, never never,  friggin Disneyland
While a starving homie, maybe, just ate his very last meal

They say, ‘I'm the new messiah’.Thanks, but, I don't even try
Thanks to so few, excluding the ones, who waved me on by
I'm sort of creating, a brand new hype and buzz
Full of pure clarity, with a dash of man-made fuzz
When the beat stops, from its fast-talking pace
We all like to flop and drop that ******* bass

Licking soda-pops over a long hot summer holiday
Kissing a girl named, Katy Perry, the very next day
Licking it all up, before she shows her b-SiDE
Then screams to three, to come on back inside
Like snatching the America's Cup, with Ben Lexcen’s winning keel
While somewhere amongst the hills of Hollywood’s La La Land
Whole plates of food, just going to waste, inside never never, friggin Disneyland
While a starving homie, maybe, just ate his very last meal

A shout out, to all my southern conquistadors and homeward bound homie’s
Ignore all the Los Angeles doomsayers and Hollywood snapchat phoney's
Elevator doors always be jammin' and then coming to a closure
We all like a moment, of shy mouth miming, with very little exposure
From a worldwide hit or an Aussie Whispering Jack golden classic
From the sound of a crackling frisbee, made from nothing,
but pure black plastic

Licking soda-pops over a long hot summer holiday
Kissing a girl named, Katy Perry, the very next day
Licking it all up, before she shows her b-SiDE
Then screams to three, to come on back inside
Like snatching the America's Cup, with Ben Lexcen’s winning keel
While somewhere amongst the hills of Hollywood’s La La Land
Whole plates of food, just going to waste, inside, never never, friggin Disneyland
While a starving homie, maybe, just ate his very last meal.

Awake we sit
Armed to the teeth and waiting for war
It marches through doorways
Ours is next.
I look at you and see blood.
From our forefathers and theirs
Lucky strikes his fortune
Mayhem behind, more ahead.
Woe to the unprepared!
Why didn’t you make plans
For something you couldn’t foresee?
Woe to the doomsayers!
Why do you make ready
Your homes for the impossible?
Aren’t you ready
For inquisition of the top
The scrutiny of the roof.
Responsibility lay there,
its little hands poke up
Out of the hay wanting
To be picked up and taken
Out of the shed,
The manger.

The ground appeared level, but no
minor bumps eroded the sanctity of evenness
at odd pockets where the soil sustained repeated injury
there lurked creatures of all sorts.
Few were long nosed, impervious blood suckers,
others like two horned underground creepers that snitched
and larked on fellow mates found solace in company.
Further down racists blended with the beautiful
and both white and dark temperaments moulded
together, as if, sustained by a creed and greed.

Further afield there were hangers-on who ruefully
were iron-****** and aplenty, lurking amongst the poor
and wretched, ******* solar power from the weak,
fiddling with the filth and holding back on sustenance.
These were the parasites of the field.

Turning to the left of centre, the holy melted in the crowd
of doomsayers, prophets and penitents, preaching
a word distorted to draw attention to themselves
under the guise of royal purple robes and stolen sceptres
pompous idiots who claimed to own the field, but
wore egoistic hot air and lead balloons of pride
and prejudice.

On just the one small section of the field you could play
delightful soccer, kick the ball or backsides and feel proud
you played a fair game, in spite of the pale bellied creatures
that roamed the tunnels and turrets of the level playing field
ready to draw you in for dissection. Of course, they smiled
benignly, when you passed by them, watching you slyly,
but all the time with hands at the back of them
clutching razor sharp daggers to shed your dignity
and lay waste to your humanity.

All of us are listed on this game. Some play, some referee, some refuse,
mostly spectators, watching and cheering, unaware
of how the level playing is set out in layers of deception.

Have you purchased your tickets for the next game?
Author Notes

A huge metaphor for injustice and greed. Play the game as you are expected to unless you want to be part of the underground network of deceivers. Pick a part in this game, which involves everybody. The colour of your skin dictates the price of the ticket to the game. Please take part. If you are a spectator
in this stadium with bright lights and pom-pom dancing girls, you will know what I'm talking about.

The game begins everyday at sunrise!
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

Walking through the desert of loneliness
wading through sands of solitude
stay upright against a burning sun
for oases spring unexpectedly
offering fresh water and dates
for your destiny. Be brave and replenished.

Watch out for rattlesnakes rats and
scorpions-creatures of the cold night
that sense your feeble steps
and win you over with their vast predatory skills
magic in their mouths
blood mixed with venom and soft words.
Their skills have crystallised
over millions of years
hunting for the lost and lonely wanderer.

Stay strong at the waters edge
where lurk people with crocodile skin
clawed feet and long forked tongues
to **** your sapping spirit
to garnish their own feasting. Stay strong.

At the outer circles
when you crawl out from your loneliness
reach out for the ones that stood
scimitars drawn and headhigh
to scythe through  the wraggle of followers-on
who journeyed a step behind your
mountains of misery, wanting you to fall
under dunes of destruction.

At the journeys end look back at the stars
that sparkled in the nighttime of your dreams
and navigated you through  the pathways of pain
to a welcoming circle of friends.

Kia kaha. Stay strong forever
You are now a child of the universe.

Author Notes

Loneliness is the most fearful of all human emotion. Everyone gets caught in this desert storm once or twice in their lives. It is a painful place and the thousands of poems on this site is a testimony to what destruction it causes.


Yet there is hope to those who seek it. One step at a time you can reach that oasis where the water is blue and the date palms replenish your wounded spirit. Look out for the doomsayers. Theres lots of them around.


The final outcome is a journey back home.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

I bet the sun comes up
take the points and scatter
doomsayers
it's been eons since
light years
and it goes on
coming up
every morn'
no matter
prophecies
of false prophets
predicting
us
to
predict
it always will
at least for
a few more
of my
eternities

The spruce boughs shake
like rattlesnakes
as I brush past them, down the path.
Winter's fighting for his life,
but Spring has her hands
clenched firm around his throat.

T-shirt clad, in the dead of night,
 I revel in the raindrops
and I can't help but wonder
will February showers
bring March flowers?
Will my Dandelions return,
before the Spring solstice?

Warmer than usual
is what they say...
The hot breath of our death
is what they mean.

If half of what the doomsayers say
truly comes to pass
(we all know that it will)
one loop will feed the other
as the grasslands burn,
and the icecaps become fairy tales...

Those ****** Chinese
and their self fulfilling hoax's.

The neighbour’s a borderline neurotic
and he waves a gun out his window
claiming it’s the end of days,
but no one pays attention to these people anymore.
There’s a very famous book
full of people like my neighbour
and they were all taken seriously.
I don’t know what’s happened in the intervening years
but there’s no crowd in the street
writing down everything this crackpot says,
no **** of mystics and doomsayers
claiming the judgment is at hand.
No, there’s just an empty street
because it’s 2am and he’s drunk
and I’m trying to get to sleep.