The Curious Adventures of Gordan's Thoughts

Some fight for freedom;
others, for happiness.
MG 

A few years ago, a human commenced a journey of recovery. On the way, hurdles and obstacles continued to hinder the progress of said human. Nonetheless, the human persevered along the way.

Having learned from past mistakes, this human chose not to befriend demons but instead to slaughter them. This part of the adventure resulted in the human overreaching and causing collateral damage along the way. Although many demons were slaughtered, among the collateral lay the souls of many innocent beings who simply reached out at the wrong time.

Ah, a new lesson taught. The human ventured on the sequential part of the story and was inevitably faced with a Greater Demon. This one almost sucked the life out of the human – literally and figuratively. The human took weeks to recover from the injuries of this battle, hoping that there was not as much unnecessary damage this time.

This battle was, too, ended with the victory of the human. Although this Greater Demon was much larger and stronger than in the past, the human, too, was equipped with weapons much grander and more efficient than in younger years.

Weeks after the war, the human awoke one morning and decided to take a short sabbatical from demon hunting. It was time to make a friend.

Back to humanity, the living soul put on its human suit and faced demons of the world.

Unfortunately, these ones bore the bodies of humans.

It was hard to make friends when they were disguised as humans; it was hard to discern which humans weren’t demons.

“How would we ever learn…?” muttered said human, crawling back to its cave and under the blankets, feeling safe.

Happiness.

MG

I promised to write more than sappy love letters
But all of a sudden you popped up out of nowhere
Into my life, you came unexpectedly
And never left, merely transformed into me

See, we were separate once, many moons ago
Not so many that I can’t recall, though
The memories have faded, new ones have formed
Each taking a varied shape; some robust, some deformed

Nonetheless, you and I never really started
For the same reason, never actually departed
Somewhere along the way we simply merged
Like the oceans welcoming newly melted icebergs

Tonight, of all nights, out of the blue
You sang to me an unforgotten tune
Lyrics to a song that were once my inspiration
Music to the words evoking your emotions

Back when we met, that same song of ours
Was sung to another who I’d dated for hours
At least it would seem, now that time has passed
Reminiscing over a past I knew wouldn’t last

I’m curious though, do you still remember those years?
When we sat on the steps confronting our fears?
Drinking bottle after bottle, drowning out our sorrows
Repeating the cycle each and every morrow

Until one day, I grew bored of you
Dropped the alcohol, took a break from you, too
At least for a while, I let you linger in the background
Stalking the possibility that you’d come ’round

Tonight, of all nights, I finally know why
I’ve kept the memory of you alive
Seeing you again after all this time
Refreshed, rejuvenated, so full of life

I knew in an instant that you felt it, too
Looking at me was a reflection of you
Both of us needed to be renewed
Yet until it happened, we hadn’t a clue

Here we stand, staring at each other
Wondering what to say to one another
Our decade worth of consistent warfare
All to hide a deluded affair

Unspoken words with unworded flirts
Optical conversation conducted with smirks
Somehow we spoke with facial expressions,
Eye-contact, and minimal diction

You were torn in that moment, a dilemma at bay
For you hadn’t decided if you wanted to stay
Or if you were visiting just for a day
You were torn between your boredom and our game

That’s when I snapped you back to reality
Reminded you that you’re already part of me
You seem to think you’re a separate entity
But you’re an iceberg that melted into the sea

You pulled me into your fantasy
Thought you could write me off as a dream
Then didn’t realise you’d fallen head first
Into the intricacies of my world

All I did was sit back and smile
Knowing it would take you only a while
To realise that you wanted more
Than you ever would’ve let yourself before

Which is why today, you showed up again
Seeking, nay, begging for my attention
Yet if I were to give it, you’d put up resistance
All because you love the thrill of the chase

We’re different yet alike; we’re Jekyll and Hyde
Of the same body but not the same mind
Of the same emotion but opposite reactions
Of the same actions with differing interpretations

What I do, you hope to achieve
What you do, will be my history
Together, you and I present the illusion
That we’re filled with complications and confusion

When in truth, we’re both quite simple
We wear the same masks, bear the same ego
We step out the door in our human costume
Pretending time and again that we’re one of them

It’s been so long now, we’ve even a system
Designed specifically for engaging the humans
When we leave the house, we use your persona
It’s more well-received; people like you better

Behind closed doors, we get to be me
Away from humanity, we’re finally free
When we’re with loved ones, we merge ourselves
Bolster our strengths and offer some help

Now I won’t tell you what we’re like around enemies
That part of our strategy shall remain a mystery
Just know that when it comes to war
More than victory, justice is worth more

Our life is not as hard as it seems
In fact, it’s rather entertaining
And perhaps (more than) a little exhausting
But c’est la vie, we live amongst humans.

 

MG

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“How has your writing been lately?” she asked.

“Not so good…” he said.

“Why’s that?” she took an interest.

“Writer’s Block…” he played victim, blaming state-of-mind.

She feigned ignorance, trying hard to empathize. “What’s that?” she responded with a question.

“When a writer is blocked and can’t think of ideas,” he didn’t pick up on her sarcasm.

“What’s it like to be blocked for ideas?” This was not rhetorical.

As a writer, Olivia had never found it hard to come up with ideas to write about; whether those ideas are well-received is another matter altogether. However, the sheer simplicity of generating an idea has never been an impossibility for her, so as much as she had wanted to relate, Olivia was nonetheless faced with inability to truly understand Oliver’s struggle.

In the minute it had taken Oliver to express himself, Olivia’s mind had elicited about five realizations. One, it was that she took herself for granted far too often. Two, it was gratitude of not being plagued with Oliver’s brand of “struggle”. Three, she felt bad for her friend, who could not seem to overcome a mental block. Four, she thanked her younger self for the discipline that had been instilled in her life as well as her writing. Last but not least, it was in this small moment that she realized the true power in self-commitment.

One minute.
Five revelations.

His whining was her enlightenment.

MG

PRODIGAL POETRY

(Inspired by the SAT 2018-19 Wordlist)

I was adamant about writing
this aberration of a poem
However boisterous, brusque
However bombastic or brazen

A cacophony of words
concocted on the screen
A decorous debauchery
derived
from the dictionary

What eccentric elicitation
to evoke an efficacy
I simply cannot fathom
this fastidious fidelity

Tis grandiose grandiloquence,
garrulous to say the least
Yet somehow this heterogenous hegemony
reflects the dreams of a hedonist

It takes an idiosyncratic iconoclast
to integrate such irrevocable irreverence
Just to juxtapose the difference
between the jubilant and the judicious

By now, half of you are pining for kudos
and the other half await the knell
For some, language is lucid and heavenly;
to others, it’s licentious, lethargic – it’s hell

For me, I’m a maverick at manifesting manuscripts,
but mercurial when mitigating a myriad of metamorphoses
And you? Are you a nomadic neophyte?
Or a nefarious novice fighting the nebulous fight?

These questions have no ostensibly objective answers –
From the perspective of the young, the old are obsolete
In the eyes of the elders, youth are oblivious to orthodoxy
Each finds the other to be onerous and obstinate
Blinded by humanity’s ostentatious opulence

Such are the paradoxical paradigms that perplex people:
Are we the partisans of pejorative pathology?
Are we the potentate of a precocious precipice?
Or are we plainly presumptuous in our prepossessing preponderance?

What could quench this quixotic quagmire?
What could quell this quandary of querulous queries?
Reveling in the rebellion of words that we write
Wondering if this recalcitrant rant can be reprieved.

This surfeit of saliently scrupulous syntax
Though superfluous, the sagacity is surreptitiously stoic
The torturous tirade tells tales of temperance
Of tenable temerity, truculently intrepid

For utilitarian purposes, a utopia usurped
To allude the understanding of ubiquitously underrated words
Vehemently variegated yet vociferous and verbose
Though the veracity is venerable, the vacillation is vacuous

Such wanton and whimsical words have been written
Some winsome and others wistful. So wallow in sorrow
Over why the list did not have xenophobic,
Nor xylography, or xerosis, not even xenolithic!

But somehow they’ve included “yoke”…
…this most certainly is a joke!
This effort zealously zooming to zenith
to await the final zephyr

 

MG

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Space,
as in the place
in our universe
where the planets
are placed?

Space,
as in the pauses
between sentences
where the spaces
are placed?

Space,
as in the boxes
of rooms we pay for
where the economy
defines our place?

Space,
as in the metaphorical oxygen
you need in order to breathe
because you’ve been suffocated by
a partner who doesn’t
know her place?

Space,
as in the physical reflection
of a human ego,
the amount one needs
so that they can grow?

Space,
as in conceptual nothingness
to remind you of everything
you now realise is meaningless
all because you wanted this thing…

…called space?

Space.

 

MG

 

Write a poem without a theme
A concoction of words across the screen
Nothing of meaning
Lacking in feeling
Write a poem that’s easier than breathing

Here’s that poem for which you asked
Wearing frivolous diction as a mask
A few minutes pass
And alas
Here’s that poem I have been tasked

What’s the purpose of this poem?
I can’t find a reason, I just don’t know
Write with the flow
And this is what shows?
What is the purpose of your poem?

There is none, as declared in the first line
Or’ve you forgotten your initial desire?
A poem to write
With nothing to describe
Such was the challenge to write these lines

Well then I thank thee for such nullity
For words drenched all over in mediocrity
For mere quantity
And no quality
Thank you for sacrificing… nullity

My dear friend, you get what you ask for
And what you required was something mediocre
You wanted nothing more
Than plain and simple words
So here’s that poem you requested before

A point you may have, my comrade, touche
Your simplicity has opened my eyes today
I’d invite you stay
A fair game you’ve played
One that ended in the word “touche”.

 

MG

 

The low growl of construction
The echo of city rhythms
The flashing lights on the street
The metronome of life’s beat

Sirens all around
Noises, so loud
People scream for no reason
Regardless of time or season

Boxes and lines everywhere
Humans scattered here and there
No matter where I look, there’s a distraction
Divided into multiple factions

The rich on one side
The poor undefined
Everyone else is in the middle
Trying to get through their own riddles

Would it ever end?
Or will we continuously pretend
That we’re satisfied with all this mediocrity?
That we weren’t destined to break free?

MG

Huxley instead of Hardy
Tolstoy rather than Tolkien
Why Dickens when we’ve Dostoevsky?
Oi, Kafka! Not Kerouac!
Get more Wilde then chill with the Wordsworth
Bring in Forster and replace Faulkner

…so maybe, just maybe, we could have a generation with jobs instead of “socialist warriors”.

 

#ReviseHowYouTeachLiterature

 

 

MG

Flash fiction

 

“God, grant us world peace,” prayed the old woman.

“God, keep the art alive,” prayed the young man.

“Without chaos, there would be no art. Without art, no peace. Peace exists because of chaos, without chaos an artless world would lack peace,” said God.

 

MG

I once was young and I was naïve
I dreamed of a future where we would be
Together we’d fight, you with me
Hand in hand so sturdily

We pushed each other to rise above
The hatred thrown by the world at us
Together we fought them using our love
The assumption that it would simply be enough

Slowly we pushed each other to grow
To become… (whatever we are now)…I don’t know
We pushed so hard our unity broke
Here we both are, standing alone

Perhaps at one point we were the same
Pushed ourselves then each other away
You led me to believe we were on the same page
Yet your words were rehearsed and our fights were staged

Did you know it would come to this?
Did you know it when we first kissed?
Was this my doing, or is this your wish?
Is there still a chance, even just a bit…?

 

MG
(Narration of an observed journey)

The crossroad is where you and I first met,
I inched forward whilst you raced on ahead,
Neither of us knew what was in store
But I sought direction and you just wanted… “more”.

Here we meet again,
at this crossroads, my friend;
Me? I never left,
merely needed the rest.
You ran in circles
wrapping up your own mess.
Never have I seen
anyone in such distress,
for usually it is I who causes
the chaos and unrest.

If I am to admit, t’has truly been quite a while
since I’ve had to hide a tear and even feign a smile.
Yet that is what you’ve needed,
so that is what I gave,
then you trampled on our seeds
sent our forest to its grave.

After all this time
I surrender my pride
Your demons are no longer
my battle to fight.
They never really were,
nonetheless I tried
But darling, I’m not your saviour
Just a friend you devoured.

MG

 

 

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