"laned" poems
antagonistically I am alive
Languish is a two laned road
Misogyny be my name and my role
Pride be my form
The sins of my brothers and my sisters
they be here no more
When my blood rises from the dead
Ebonics will overcome phonics And our lives will be spared
I am done playing politics
done being your diplomat
if you want the olive branch go get it yourself
I am done acquiescing to your decisions and demands
I am prepared to throw up my hands
All I want is to be left alone with my kin
All I want is for my diction to not define who I am
All I want is for peace not to be left a dream
We as a whole are taught that dreams can become reality
That america is a country created and shaped by our thoughts
Yet our reality is becoming nothing more than a nightmare
Someone tell me who thought of this?
How can we turn our reality from the nightmare it has become into our dreams
let us be honest it was never a place for my people
But since we are here can we not claw each others throats out and get back to the problem at hand?
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 1:05 PM UTC
Less then
three hundred miles
and three years away,
but I can still feel
the sunlight
streaming in
from the fifth floor
window.
I can still see
the long
multi-laned streets
cluttered with cars,
trucks, and billboards.
I can still taste
the hot wings
dipped in ranch
that I ate for dinner,
and the small omelets
in cheese streaked
plastic wrap
along with
the gravy soaked
biscuits.
I can still feel
the cool blankets
that saw me safely
to sleep
after I would eat
the free breakfast.
I can still hear
the sound of
strangers
speaking in
muffled tones,
blocked by
thin walls.
I can even recall
the sound of rainfall,
and though I am
almost content
with this moment
in my life,
part of me
would like to see
that memory
in real time.
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 10:27 AM UTC
To the centre of city, its a four laned highway
with cars zipping up on the southbound lanes.
I am northbound towards the sun
where it streams down watching us racing
to early morning appointments
I wonder
How many people must be watching the road with one eye
and next door drivers with the other
and the ones on the right, by instinct,
always in a hurry to grab those 3 meters of vacant
space, only to get stalled a little further up
by an old lady following
the intricate road rules of speed.
Cruising along is a survival thing
one wrong turn or twist
and the ambulance will need to scrape
the remnants of you from the road
police sirens wailing
and rubber-neckers keen to see
who was the *** that didn't learn
to survive in a race to the finish!
Thank God I've survived
another journey to the centre
of the city
(not the earth!)
If I don't keep my attention on the road
I may be the one
being scraped off the road.
Author Notes
Happens everyday at 7am and 3pm. Each day going down or returning is a lucky day. All it will take is one small mistake.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 3 months ago
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
The black ribbon licks
through towering mountains
and deep succulent valleys
rushing past rows and rows
of cornfields and crevices
reaching into strange places
'honey salted'- ecstasies
to lips ripe and ready
at the top end of town
welcoming.
The same road rips around
comes or goes
whichever takes your fancy.Anyone get it
NO STOPPING
for miles and miles
even to saunter off
and picnic with passersby
strangers stare
with secretive glances
as we pass each other on the four laned
handshake
to know that we
once took this road
to somewhere.
Author Notes
Anyone get it? Would be nice to know.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 4:41 PM UTC