"marshall" poems
Afghanistan needs hellopoetry
Albania needs hellopoetry
Algeria needs hellopoetry
Andorra needs hellopoetry
Angola needs hellopoetry
Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry
Argentina needs hellopoetry
Armenia needs hellopoetry
Australia needs hellopoetry
Austria needs hellopoetry
Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry
The Bahamas needs hellopoetry
Bahrain needs hellopoetry
Bangladesh needs hellopoetry
Barbados needs hellopoetry
Belarus needs hellopoetry
Belgium needs hellopoetry
Belize needs hellopoetry
Benin needs hellopoetry
Bhutan needs hellopoetry
Bolivia needs hellopoetry
Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry
Botswana needs hellopoetry
Brazil needs hellopoetry
Brunei needs hellopoetry
Bulgaria needs hellopoetry
Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry
Burundi needs hellopoetry
Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry
Cambodia needs hellopoetry
Cameroon needs hellopoetry
Canada needs hellopoetry
Central African Republic needs hellopoetry
Chad needs hellopoetry
Chile needs hellopoetry
China needs hellopoetry
Colombia needs hellopoetry
Comoros needs hellopoetry
Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry
Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry
Costa Rica needs hellopoetry
Côte d’Ivoire needs hellopoetry
Croatia needs hellopoetry
Cuba needs hellopoetry
Cyprus needs hellopoetry
Czech Republic needs hellopoetry
Denmark needs hellopoetry
Djibouti needs hellopoetry
Dominica needs hellopoetry
Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry
East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry
Ecuador needs hellopoetry
Egypt needs hellopoetry
El Salvador needs hellopoetry
Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry
Eritrea needs hellopoetry
Estonia needs hellopoetry
Eswatini needs hellopoetry
Ethiopia needs hellopoetry
Fiji needs hellopoetry
Finland needs hellopoetry
France needs hellopoetry
Gabon needs hellopoetry
The Gambia needs hellopoetry
Georgia needs hellopoetry
Germany needs hellopoetry
Ghana needs hellopoetry
Greece needs hellopoetry
Grenada needs hellopoetry
Guatemala needs hellopoetry
Guinea needs hellopoetry
Guinea-Bissau needs hellopoetry
Guyana needs hellopoetry
Haiti needs hellopoetry
Honduras needs hellopoetry
Hungary needs hellopoetry
Iceland needs hellopoetry
India needs hellopoetry
Indonesia needs hellopoetry
Iran needs hellopoetry
Iraq needs hellopoetry
Ireland needs hellopoetry
Israel needs hellopoetry
Italy needs hellopoetry
Jamaica needs hellopoetry
Japan needs hellopoetry
Jordan needs hellopoetry
Kazakhstan needs hellopoetry
Kenya needs hellopoetry
Kiribati needs hellopoetry
Korea, North needs hellopoetry
Korea, South needs hellopoetry
Kosovo needs hellopoetry
Kuwait needs hellopoetry
Kyrgyzstan needs hellopoetry
Laos needs hellopoetry
Latvia needs hellopoetry
Lebanon needs hellopoetry
Lesotho needs hellopoetry
Liberia needs hellopoetry
Libya needs hellopoetry
Liechtenstein needs hellopoetry
Lithuania needs hellopoetry
Luxembourg needs hellopoetry
Madagascar needs hellopoetry
Malawi needs hellopoetry
Malaysia needs hellopoetry
Maldives needs hellopoetry
Mali needs hellopoetry
Malta needs hellopoetry
Marshall Islands needs hellopoetry
Mauritania needs hellopoetry
Mauritius needs hellopoetry
Mexico needs hellopoetry
Micronesia, Federated States is in need of hellopoetry
Moldova needs hellopoetry
Monaco needs hellopoetry
Mongolia needs hellopoetry
Montenegro needs hellopoetry
Morocco needs hellopoetry
Mozambique needs hellopoetry
Myanmar (Burma) needs hellopoetry
Namibia needs hellopoetry
Nauru needs hellopoetry
Nepal needs hellopoetry
Netherlands needs hellopoetry
New Zealand needs hellopoetry
Nicaragua needs hellopoetry
Niger needs hellopoetry
Nigeria needs hellopoetry
North Macedonia needs hellopoetry
Norway needs hellopoetry
Oman needs hellopoetry
Pakistan needs hellopoetry
Palau needs hellopoetry
Panama needs hellopoetry
Papua New Guinea needs hellopoetry
Paraguay needs hellopoetry
Peru needs hellopoetry
Philippines needs hellopoetry
Poland needs hellopoetry
Portugal needs hellopoetry
Qatar needs hellopoetry
Romania needs hellopoetry
Russia needs hellopoetry
Rwanda needs hellopoetry
Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry
Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry
Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry
Samoa needs hellopoetry
San Marino needs hellopoetry
Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry
Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry
Senegal needs hellopoetry
Serbia needs hellopoetry
Seychelles needs hellopoetry
Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry
Singapore needs hellopoetry
Slovakia needs hellopoetry
Slovenia needs hellopoetry
Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry
Somalia needs hellopoetry
South Africa needs hellopoetry
Spain needs hellopoetry
Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry
Sudan needs hellopoetry
Sudan, South needs hellopoetry
Suriname needs hellopoetry
Sweden needs hellopoetry
Switzerland needs hellopoetry
Syria needs hellopoetry
Taiwan needs hellopoetry
Tajikistan needs hellopoetry
Tanzania needs hellopoetry
Thailand needs hellopoetry
Togo needs hellopoetry
Tonga needs hellopoetry
Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry
Tunisia needs hellopoetry
Turkey needs hellopoetry
Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry
Tuvalu needs hellopoetry
Uganda needs hellopoetry
Ukraine needs hellopoetry
United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry
United Kingdom needs hellopoetry
United States needs hellopoetry
Uruguay needs hellopoetry
Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry
Vanuatu needs hellopoetry
Vatican City needs hellopoetry
Venezuela needs hellopoetry
Vietnam needs hellopoetry
Yemen needs hellopoetry
Zambia needs hellopoetry
Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
The deepest understanding between lovers
stands majestically above the deepest abyss
as if, unbreakable and pure in its unreachable,
unbreakable bond.
Whatever melts this emotion together
was forged in a hotter furnace than ever found
that only two people can understand.
Rising above the highest tide
soaring above tornadoes and typhoons
and cruising along points of paradise
available only to the two of them.
How serene it feels to know
that your own reflection mirrors
in the other person and their every nuance
is written into your own poems
adding the rhyme and rhythm
for your own journey together.
Author Notes
Feel like this at times?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
Oh yes! I had plans to woo you
with roses and chocolates
and other mushy make-up
that might just rev up your fireworks
Yet I knew deep inside
it wouldn't work so well.
So jugular it was
condoms and plastic roses
knotted in shoelaces
painted and welded on a metal frame
worded: I will take you
to take me: Now!
But you laughed
and blew the condoms into balloons
and spray painted the roses in silver
and I used the shoelaces
to hang my head in creative shame!
Yet when we met on the deck of union
for the first time
the sparks lit up the nightsky
and we slept curled up around each other
like question marks
Thats how we bought tickets
to forever
Crazy?
I waited-you came!
Author Notes
Most enjoyable poem today.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 months ago
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
I like Homestuck,
Donald Duck,
Ancient Greek Gaea,
APH Hetalia,
Marzia and Pewdiepie,
Random bow ties,
Doctor Who,
That colour of greenish blue,
Sherlock Holmes,
Garden gnomes,
Boy/boy ****
Sweet tea,
Left 4 dead,
Books I've read,
Minecraft,
When I laughed,
Yu-Gi-Oh,
Gateau,
Ender's Game,
Notre Dame,
World War One,
World War Two,
Mouse and shrew,
Bugsy Malone,
Jam scones,
Birthday cake,
Milk shake,
Drawing art,
Taking part,
MLP,
Shopping spree,
Sleeping in,
West Berlin,
Random songs,
When bells go ****
Stars shine,
My blood line,
All my friends,
The latest trends,
Yuri much,
And such and such,
Fanfiction,
A prediction,
Doujinshis,
Marshall Lee,
RhymeZone,
My touchscreen phone,
I could go on,
But that's too long,
But my favourite is,
Hello poetry - so don't diss!!
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
Barack Obama
Is a fork tongued devil
Who supports abortions
And homosexual marriage
The Lord said
His hand of judgement will come
Against the U.S.
The first devastation will hit
There will be another right on its heels
A series of devastating events
Look to the skies---- (nuke)
Look to the seas---(tsunami)
Look to the earth---(earthquake)
People being killed with guns
Marshall Law
The United States will fall
Because of its wickedness
The U.S. will decrease
And Israel will increase
It will happen
These things will happen before
His return
The sword will be the nuclear war
Drought from no rains
Pestilence new strain of disease
5 year war
Then famine
Fill up storehouses
Landscape of America will change
Waterways will become poisonous
Sun will emit flashes of radiation
His hand is on the weather
(Hand of the Lord)
Ocean will come as far as the Rockies
Geological plates will shift
Russians will attack infrastructure
Of the nation
A nation of lies
Darkness will overcome
A deep darkness will cover
The people
Because they love the lies
The Lord said to her,
"Do not despair my children
Out of the darkness
Comes the glorious light."
There will be
Cities of refuge
For those who know Him
Intimately
There will be a city of refuge
Stay close and He will instruct you
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
The lawyers, Bob, know too much.
They are chums of the books of old John Marshall.
They know it all, what a dead hand wrote,
A stiff dead hand and its knuckles crumbling,
The bones of the fingers a thin white ash.
The lawyers know
a dead man's thought too well.
In the heels of the higgling lawyers, Bob,
Too many slippery ifs and buts and howevers,
Too much hereinbefore provided whereas,
Too many doors to go in and out of.
When the lawyers are through
What is there left, Bob?
Can a mouse nibble at it
And find enough to fasten a tooth in?
Why is there always a secret singing
When a lawyer cashes in?
Why does a hearse horse snicker
Hauling a lawyer away?
The work of a bricklayer goes to the blue.
The knack of a mason outlasts a moon.
The hands of a plasterer hold a room together.
The land of a farmer wishes him back again.
Singers of songs and dreamers of plays
Build a house no wind blows over.
The lawyers--tell me why a hearse horse snickers
hauling a lawyer's bones.
5.6k
Like some goofy lisp.
Like left over from Surrey to Essex.
Lycan, Omish, with some Roudy Rawdy Piper.
Like a WWE event, no ropes in the ring and a whole
bunch of cheerios.
It sounded like chweer wee ohs.
I got England to laugh out loud.
We were all laying on the floor hoping
fuhat bassthard would gooh on a diet.
Like Van Gogh and his buddy whats his...
knuck knuck. Painting pictures of Marshall
Islanders for a vote or veto. Paul Goin and Vincent
Van Gogh sharing a lisp.
Sthounds like..... Ah gawd!
Shut up you sobbing limp noodle.
Try writing something we all can laugh at.
Humor me Socrates with Albert Einstein.
E equals MC squared.
One part energy, a mass constantly squared.
Cheerio old chaps.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
Even if the season of lust blankets loneliness in a tight wrap
smothering those fragile emotions in the winter months
of a lifetime of cyclical wants and needs
waiting for the summer to send its life giving mantras
deep into the ****** soil of waiting,
the hibiscus waits ready to grasp the first finger of sun drenching
warmth to burst out into beauty
above ground and spread its dense green leaves
with crimson flower and trumpet shape
into the minds eye of acceptance.
Soon the valley changes hue as altogether
the trees spring to life shedding their softness
into every nook and corner, crabbing into crannies
and leaping wings of delight into welcome air.
The hibiscus will soon take ownership
of the entire valley bringing to the forefront
our own wanderlust.
Author Notes
Changeover between summer and sunshine.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
Clambering and clawing
Grasping hooks, crannies
a crown of thorns
flowering purple red blood
bright fluorescent
she wore her designer nails
to the summer ball
strapless and holding up
her rounded dignity
spoken in a plunging neckline
She flowered
was deflowered
that twilight under a silver orb
whispering ocean fronts
dropped off at her starlight home
sealed that memory
with a bougainvillea kiss
of immense sensuality
and down the drive
thinking how beautiful she was
in making memories.
years later
I still remember the look
of that velvet sky
and the nails that scoured
a language on my back.
Author Notes
Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
Listen! Can you hear?
Behold! Can you see?
Feel! Can you experience
The change from a female
To a fruitful African mother?
Oh yes, she took the concoction
This morning to prove her innocence,
Yes, she had to go through this
Ordeal to satisfy her aggressive head,
But this passionate love was
According the will of Tweaduampon,
Hmm, the moon has appeared
Nine times over the thirsty land
Of Africa since morning,
Can you behold Asaase Yaa
And Isis watching with their
Eyes of favor and fertility?
For Osiris, the Beautiful Being, can even
Testify the May-rain matching
Endlessly over the wings of Timbuktu,
Ah look! The noon is fast approaching
With excess wailing and fear,
For the Military Hospital
Is burning and bleeding with
The fire of eternal expectations,
Indeed, with success comes greed,
And the gods of blacks is not to ****
Push daughter, push!
Push the pain of this Tuesday joy
Out of your vulnerable soul,
For the Marshall bells are still
Ringing to receive this divine offer,
Hear the sweet voice of the dawn
Energizing the anointed male baby
Out of the nine-mouth old darkness,
Today, a new day is born,
Today, a revolutionary is born,
Today, the gods have given birth,
Today, Kabutu is born,
Today, the history of Africa has given birth,
In fact, magical protection and life
Were behind this gods and his
Divine Essence was glorified with power.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
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
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
I've now coined the diagnosis "Portable Hoarder" - Carrying my life in bags and duffles, pockets and sleeves.
Accumulating more baggage than would fit in a **** terminal.
But now, I am home. Me, and my ***** laundry. And I don't fit anymore. Crammed amidst my past. Falling out the door; Spilling across my floor.
Me, myself, and Marshall.
**So, TONIGHT
I'm cleaning out my closet.**
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 7:20 AM UTC
I like the idea of Slim Shady
Eminem's alter ego
I like the idea because I can relate
I understand
I believe everyone
Has an alter ego
A worse version of themselves
That tears at them from the inside
Even though some people
Don't acknowledge it
Lately
I've been listening to Eminem quite a bit
My favorite song
Is My Darling
Because half way through the song
Eminem fights with his demon
Granted, I've never been in most of the situations
That he dealt with
I've never had an abusive mother
I've never had a drug problem
I've never had an alcohol problem
But I have dealt with inner demons
I hear a dark and angry voice in my head
Eminem fascinates me
He tells his story
Through his words
He expresses his pain
His anger
His love
His hate
When you really think about it
How is rap much different than poetry?
I think it's similar
Rap tells a story
Rap expresses emotions
Rap speaks the artist's truth
That they couldn't say any other way
Rap is a form of slam poetry
In my opinion
The difference is
Rap has a beat
Maybe that's why
Eminem inspires me so much
Maybe it's because I understand the pain
Of hearing the inner demon
Always screaming in your ear
Telling you these lies
Trying to force you into things
Trying to trick you into your old ways
I'm probably not the only one
But I don't really care
Because it doesn't really matter
I will continue to be inspired
About how brutally honest his words are
About how he's not afraid
To say what he thinks
How he's not afraid to tell his story
No matter how hard it may be
Slim Shady fascinates me
Eminem inspires me
And Marshall Mathers understands me
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 10:04 AM UTC
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
Spark kissed tinder
burst into flames
As men gathered in tight knots
Stitched up a street riot
Wood warmed and glowed
Militant revolution minds
The embers hummed with ashes
As city streets burned
Tyres and tubes were rolled
home brew guzzled
Fuelled the fires further
more streets burned
Water cannons hissed
As men aflame with anger
Lit fireplaces up alleyways
With burning brain torches
Taking the political fireplaces
To the palace of no return.
As soon as the government
Dissolved into a carpet bombing
puddle
The big bear
licked its paws.
Author Notes
The Revolution continues after a lapse of two months. Most politics start around a fireplace fuelled by alcohol and hate. Once lit the fireplace chatter
moves into the street and spread rapidly.
The Bear anticipates a breakdown of law and order and amasses its troops along the border.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
Head start on a frozen night
we'll trickle slow down blighted
street ways
and mix our crunching footsteps
with our ever-rougher laughs.
Grab a drink
too tired for sleeping.
Work weeks pile up, getting deep and
I don't think apartment walls
can contain us one more night.
So save a drink for me,
and meet me out on Longstaff Street
I've got all night and an axe to grind
You've got a case of cold friends
and a troubled mind
so let's pace
this neighborhood.
Pull up my roots, we'll untangle yours
from Knowles Street, right on Marshall
walk and drink for hours
'til we sink
that slant street moon
Transplants grafted to this town
we'll spread roots in these downer
regrets
and spill our gravel laughter
on the sidewalks with these beers.
South, back home,
a handful got it:
rotten nights pave paths to coffins
I don't know how many steps
it'll take to cool our heels.
So grab a drink for me
and we'll go walking Longstaff Street
We've got these drinks, we can disappear
into a slant street night
where no one'll hear
how ****** up
these days become.
I still think back on Emerson Park
that Summer night we fled from
the cops through the dark
when the Russell
Street traffic hums...
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
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
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 2:32 PM UTC
The Creator looked at the elephant and said:
I made you big so you could be gentle
To the mouse he said: I made you small
so you could walk tall
But over millions of years you two could exchange
places and one become the other.
I know I shoved the lot of you in an Ark
Because Noah was being a pesk asking for rain
when his washing machine ran dry
So I had to fill the oceans to stop that old man
from complaining all the time. Besides I needed the bark
from the trees of the Ark to make me a small tug boat
to carry some DNA samples of my own, in case,
the lion ate the cow, the tiger chewed on the cat
and the fox tricked the rest with his cunning ways
You see, my friends, there was no grass, or snakes
or bird cages, or trees for the monkeys to swing on.
I thought of many things before I gave the building plans
to Noah and his sons. Only one was a builder the rest
were bums, who never held a hammer or learned how to
tie two bits of trees together, leave alone building
an ark to hold the worlds whole creation.Thankfully
there were no real estate agents pushing the price up
or bankers charging interest. The mafia thought of charging
an entrance fee for each pair, but before they could do that the rains came pelting down and the tickets got washed away in the storm.
So you see the Ark was a joint venture between
The Americans and Chinese and Indians
because they were willing to multiply quicker
than the rest once Mt Sinai rose up to meet the
oak leviathan from underneath.
And so my dear elephants and mouse
and fox and snake and bird and
lion and tiger. Noah and his wonderful Ark
was a script written well ahead so that Russell Crowe could get
a part playing Noah in a computer generated extravaganza
where only the actors and actresses who could afford
to pay a price to be in it - were involved.
The rest of mankind be ******
Author Notes
Quirky.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
I will stand in the shadow of the sun which burns a scar
on the back of people who like
to shift in the shadows of the night
and blame everybody for giving them a homeland
for their excuses.
I will stand where the teargas
melts my eyes and the batons write their scars
on my coloured skin
because I asked for bread.
I will stand in the light and hum
my soulful music that echoes off
the walls of pop charts and make
everybody dance because they do not
understand my words.
I will stand in the pools of streetlights
and sell my body, my baby, my beauty-
because nobody cared
to ask me a human question on want.
I will stand before God
and question why he taught me
the language of worship
amd wisdom to know the difference
between skin and colour and asking
and read the book he has to offer
that says the truth in so many pages.
I will stand alone.
I will stand alone.
Author Notes
?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:39 AM UTC
the clutter of words taking wing
beneath the wide arms of dense green oak.
the deciphering symbols now begin
as parts of the mystery fall into place
one by one, each piece reflects in a mirror
so similar to what I held up to catch the sky
and reason, fragments that collided in mystical shape
and formed into spirals seeking fresh answers
the dreams that haunted our togetherness for so long
and I languished in every stroke of your poetic pen
now falls the silver cross and the lining in these clouds
that have twisted and turned me inside out
yet I've built a crucible of hope from endless hyperstrings
and pieces of magnificent beauty that I first saw
in your writing and significantly stayed magnetised
by the unfolding of your life into my own searching.
I will stand here forever, watching, even as the sun dances
into dark of night and my feelings grow a new pathway.
Author Notes
Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 months ago
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11580728-DreamCatcher...-by-Marshall-Gass-noguest#sthash.3aDaqvOh.dpuf
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
In the darkness that dispels all hope
we fumble with meaningless insight.
What we said does not relate to what we want
and yet we embrace boundaries to punish ourselves
with unnecessary hells. Languishing in the thought
that silence will answer these loud questions.
We love because we are created to love
unconditionally.We hate because we don't understand
what vast oceans of meaning lie in love.
Silence may answer the ascetics
monastic and contemplatives but
rarely an equation for relationships.
When its grey it rains tears of knowing
where we belong and to whom we belong
in the worlds whole people. Love binds us all
in this understanding fabric of contemplation.
Yet in the darkness we find solitude
and hope in the isolation of reason.
The silence between the drumbeats
announces the rhythm of the song.
We walk in silence
yet celebrate without it.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 19 days ago
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11566249-Grey-Skies-by-Marshall-Gass#sthash.8dgLQUr8.dpuf
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
The sound was switched off
to my imagination
but you sauntered in that cascade silk of light
with sure steps,touching this,
tousling your hair, touching that
resplendent. Seductive in the setting.
You knew I was watching the sun dance
through the shadows
causing your smile
and mischief to glow brighter.
It was when you leaned over the balcony
my pulse raced with fear
and my heart stopped racing anymore.
Its only when you switched the sound back on
did I realise
your heart was also beating
between 'the agony and the ecstasy'
of the distance between us.
I take a step forward.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 3 days ago
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
the church bells peeled a rhythmic ringing
tinnitus
sending us listeners racing back
into a guilty crime like daze.
the mass begins in twenty painful moments
better rush in the rustle of sunday wear
bible bolstered underarm
front pew glances at the priest
who had a back view glare at late comers.
Mama said the sins of your fathers
will visit if you
miss a mass
canned hellfire will get you
and st peter will tick mark your presence
after communion.
I listened
when I stopped
God became god
and the church bells peeled
the same way
only the new pizzas came
with canned chilli peppers!
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
Neon Stella Artois lights and sly hellos
It commenced as we were flew spinning
Ticket stubs and ink -stains
Oh, as our love flirted we both were seeking
Brooklyn Subway stops and ***** clothes
We perched by the equator but only when beginning
Backwards flasks and *******
Then winter solstice was challenged by spring’s springing
Strands of soft pearls and wishing wells
We shivered the anxious touch of a faux July summer’s evening
Empty bar stools and firelight
It was still bitterly February but with the mockery of songbirds floating
Two Thirty Seven A.M. and sea shells
How can the world deceive us in this fashion: fools, we accept ever-knowing
Buttered bread and hindsight
Dawn will crash with frostbite and these daisies will pay the price of their beauty’s sinning
Wine before noon and payphone bills
Wind will eviscerate this moment for once you have touched the sun the ice is more than suffocating
Dry heaving and ribbons
We were only waiting then at the heart of a train station for the stretches of shadows to lengthen
First drags of cigarettes and blue diet pills
The glitter within the dew drops stolen from our tired eyes when our first summer was stolen
Cheap motels and kitchens
We could barely exchange syllables, our melodies quarreling, our blood had thinned
Calendar pages and black lace *******
The euthanasia of the spring would have hung us too if we had breathed it in
The Last calls and lollipops
One can repose more gently in the absence of color than in the theft of sin
Bitten manicured hands and autumn leaves
We used to sleep in a room with wonders, windows, and blankets within
Midnight whispers and rooftops
It was the only place that could soften the swords in all this ruin
****** wrappers and painting supplies
Today is cruel, it cannot be summer if the world doesn’t spin
Happy hour cocktails and goodbyes
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 2:16 PM UTC