The Curious Adventures of Gordan's Thoughts

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

 

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

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

 

 

She looked at me with insecurity in her eyes, as if pleading for sympathy.

I couldn’t.

Much as I tried to muster up a shred of compassion, she had used up the last ounce left in me. Used it up on some medial triviality that was, if anything,  inconsequential to the matter at hand.

For years, I had done my best to understand the root of the issue. For years, I had given a part of myself to her — my ears, heart, time, energy. I had been sympathetic towards experiences far out of my scope. My arms were always open for embrace, my head was always open to another perspective, but my soul was guarding my heart from digesting more than I could stomach.

Then it happened.

One day, I opened my eyes and realized that she was a living, breathing reminder of everything I had already overcome. She had the demeanor of a human, but the behaviour of what used to be my undefeated demons.

I was at the end of my tether, a tether I didn’t even know existed — perhaps very few people had ever dared reach it. Even fewer lacked the cognizance to know where my line lay.

But she, I suppose, fell into that category of “one of the fewer”.

I confronted her, of course, regarding the levels of disrespect radiating like Venus’ sulfuric acid — she didn’t “mean to”, she just couldn’t “help it”. Apparently it was my fault for letting her speak in that manner, for not defending myself.

Well my apologies for choosing to rise above the need to be unnecessarily defensive.

I took her advice, nonetheless, to prove a point. I “defended myself” by not taking blame for other people’s transgressions. This was, incidentally, viewed as “interrupting” and “not letting the other person finish speaking.” (Rambling, honestly).

Well my apologies for having self-respect and guiding a conversation instead of enabling validation. 

My tether.

How did I even let it go on so long?

Simple.

I’ve been there before.

I’ve been in her shoes before. Those juvenile, self-centered, self-indulged, narcissistic, insecure, egotistic, defensive, over-analytical, paranoid, anxious shoes.

I’ve worn something like that.

Many moons ago, but in those shoes I’ve tread those paths — climbed the mountains and rolled down cliffs, drowned in lakes and washed up on shore, broken my bones and worn them casts.

But I am not there now. Nor do I want to go back to any of it.

So when I say that I am out of sympathy, it is not selfish or uncaring. It is not callous or heartless.

It is that I will no longer allow anyone to twist something beautiful into their distorted versions of reality. I cannot fill the voids she won’t admit exist, and will not validate insecurities that are hers — not mine — to fight.

My darling, if you ever read this, I’m sorry that I’d ever let you mistake my kindness for weakness, but I’m walking away because of the strength I’ve mustered up after recovering from this battle. I can’t let you interpret my words to your advantage simply to justify the mistakes of mine you continuously repeat instead of move past. I cannot keep being the buoy you cling to when you get stranded at sea, repeatedly. It’s time for you to pull your own weight — I’ve left you with enough care packages and tools to sift through, but it’s up to you to figure out how to use them. 

You’re on your own, darling, but in a way that you need right now. 

I’ll see you on the other side.
Hope you make it out alive.

Signed with the kind of love you’ve yet to understand, 


MG

I’m not here to take the pain
To shelter you from the storm again
I’m not here to suffer the blame
To confront the fire that can’t be tamed

No, I’m here on my own accord
With an agenda, I forewarn
I’ll take the bull right by the horns
Throw him into a garden of thorns
So that he may wriggle his way out
Escape, feeling accomplished and proud
Become the Bull that I can announce
That he’s ready to be set free, rejoicing sounds

Instead, this bull got comfortable and relaxed
He did not run, he stood there perplexed
He took one look at the thorns and compressed
Them into crumbs — I was slightly impressed
He then set out to consume the leaves
A few at a time, he chewed slowly
By the time the patch was thoroughly empty
He had enough space to fall asleep.

And that is how I made a friend:
He consumed the weapon — didn’t fight nor defend.

MG

A king’s crumb
The pauper’s pearl
~MG~

Kings, they sit amongst each other, feasting on rum and wine. They eat and drink, mock laymen and slash servants for fun. The kings awake the next morning with bitter hangovers, only to rule the People whose integrity was entirely disregarded merely hours prior.

Councillors, they converse with each other, sampling brandy and whiskey. They sup and swallow, scoff at their kings and throw crumbs at kids. The Councillors rise at dawn with no hangover, ready to persuade the kings to follow their tactics while simultaneously riding on moral high-horses, ripping off the underprivileged with unrequited taxes.

School children, they play alongside each other, drinking ale and juice. They gargle and guzzle, taunt each other and start brawls for personal amusement. The children awaken in the morn for school, only to be reprimanded by teachers for inappropriate attire and caned for disrespect.

Paupers, they laugh amongst each other, sipping gin and stale beer. They nibble and gulp, make a mockery of themselves and smash bottles across each others’ heads for fun. The paupers awake the next day with fuzzy heads, knowing that their actions only justified the ridicule of their rulers.

The People, the entirety of the humans, all engaged in the same manner with those who shared in their sameness. They all rotated like gears in a clock, trying to make it from sunrise to sunset without disrupting the direction. They were all the same, for they all shared in the belief that they were different. From kings with their superiority complexes to paupers with their simplex inferiority: each to its own, all did the same.

Despite this reality, their egos allowed them all to believe they were unique.

But they weren’t.

They really, really weren’t.

 

MG

 

I exist in whatever world I make
One I could create
A world from which I need not escape
For it expands only to embrace
A world where I don’t discriminate
Merely give what I will take
A world that’s real, where nothing is fake
Where there’s no “lose or save face”

They coin it utopian and call me idealist
Yet I am my biggest cynic
I balance the two and call myself a realist
Who is also my own worst critic
Finding a way to be more expressive
Without sounding as cryptic
Striving to know what’s wanted, what’s needed
Limited to role models I mimic

Twas never about the defeaters nor defeated
Both equally parasitic
A mix of those who have been mistreated
What could have been pandemic
To neither the meek, nor the conceited
But ambiverts – sociably eremitic
This is the world I’ve inhabited
Between creative and academic

So I exist in whatever world I make
One I could create
A world from which I need not escape
For it expands only to embrace
A world where I don’t discriminate
Merely give what I will take
A world that’s real, where nothing is fake
Founded on freedom, justice, and grace

MG

You enable me to feel
What I’ve been afraid of
Yet restrict me from doing
What I believe keeps me alive

I don’t merely mean the blood
Pumping through the veins
But the vigor that breathes life
That reflects both sun and rain

There are days I try my best
To be kind, to be gentle, and to be sweet
But then come the days I just need to rest
Breathe, release, the passing summer breeze

On those days the demons come out
To prance and hop — to play
You don’t like them, but they’re part of me
I’m a balance of both, but not a buffet

You don’t get to pick and choose which parts
Of me you may or may not like
I was up-front with you right from the start
That I won’t control what goes on inside

I’ve merely trained my external expression
How to get it out
Some say I’m passive, others sense aggression
All you have to do is stick around

You’ll see the full picture but not all at once
It’s just the way I like to present
An hour at a time, a day, week, month
Slowly, our unity begins to ascend

I am One, but I embody many
Other bodies, other souls, other inspirations
I merely reflect the company I keep
Living vicariously through each others’ creations

MG

“Try something new,” she had said, responding to the unspoken yearning I’d been having for adventure.

What’s new? I had wondered, constricted by the limitations of my imagination. And bank account. Try something new…

I’d been pondering for months what “new hobby” would satiate my thirst. For months, I dreamed of playing the violin, of resting it gently in my left hand, tips to the fingerboard, bow at the ready as if it were a wand, preparing to cast a spell of musical magic.

But there was something at the back of my head whispering, “one thing at a time my dear. One thing at a time.”

Eager beaver I was, always wanting to cultivate or learn something: another instrument, another language, another sport,  a new skill, expand my world and all that. The mere thought of balancing all of that amidst a life of work, academics, social life and relationships, would be overwhelming to most people.

I suppose I’m “different” that way. I was…determined.

And so I tried something new. Contrary to what I had thought, t’was not a passive hobby that was needed, but rather an expressive outlet. An aggressive and intense activity that had the adrenaline pumping with the risk level fairly low.

I tried something new.

I packed my bag and prepared for a day out at sea. It was sunny with very few clouds blotted around the sky. There was a gentle breeze, barely noticeable unless one was consciously looking out for it. The sun blazed down ever so softly, discreetly, but silently lethal if one was not careful.

It had been years since I had last been in these waters, a decade, perhaps. I strapped the board to my feet and tightened the laces, with enthusiasm and confidence. Though it had been years, and I was a little nervous, I was more excited than I had felt in a very long time.

Smiling at the board with silent anticipation, I jumped into the water and let my body adjust to the temperature. The water is your friend, I told myself, as the touch of the ocean against my skin shocked the city-life out of my system momentarily.

Try something new, she had said.

At that moment, I was more grateful than ever to even have this opportunity, to have this experience. To have this kind of freedom that very few truly understand, let alone appreciate. I was grateful for my friends, for their presence and company.

And I was grateful for the sea, for the fun I was about to have.

I gripped the handle and the motor roared into action. In seconds, I was up and gliding across the water. The waves washed over my feet as I tilted forward and backwards, controlling the direction of movement. The sun blared over my head and the wind blew at me as I soared across the waves.

It had been years, but I was finally back.

Finally… free.

 

 

MG

My dearest darling,

For the longest time I have kept you sheltered and kept you protected. I have hidden you in the crevices deep below the depths, beyond where even I myself dare not reach.

But I have listened to the echoes within the silence, riveting from your soul and out of my hands. I have heard your yearn for greatness, your desire, your push, your drive, your motivation. You want to leave a legacy.

I tell you, my dearest, what it is that makes you great.

Your “greatness” was never about you. What makes you great, is that you have those who stand behind you, who stand beside you, who stand with you through thick and thin, sun and rain. What makes you great, is that you are merely a reflection, an embodiment, of those you have chosen to place in your life.

You encompass all that they are, and in turn, envelop them with the love you have received. My dearest, you do not take more than you are willing to give; and you do not give more than you get.

I know you — you knew me once, but I…I know…you

My dearest, you are destined to be great, and remember… that it is never about you, rather it is about how you reflect all that has been instilled in you. Your influences are what make…you.

Remember this, darling, remember…you…

that continuous memory legacy in the making.

MG

Be not afraid of greatness.
Some are born great, some achieve greatness,
and others have greatness thrust upon them.
~William Shakespeare~

You care about all those in your world
The souls of innocent boys and girls
But what about those who actually make
And build your world in the first place?

I’ve wanted to write for days on end
But the rage inside me would not bend
So I fought hard, as best as I could
Until all that was left — splinters n’ wood.

You looked at me once, a time ago
When you loved me, with or without the ego
Returning from the battle after cleaning up your mess
I’d barely had a rest and you put me back to the test

What were you testing for, strength or pride?
For loyalty? For honesty? For following through with desire?
Though that war I’d fought for you
The victory, to me, was nothing new.

The unexpected part of all this was you
At least…the you I thought I knew.
Relentlessly, I’d destroyed your enemy
Only to have it pop out in front of me.

Taking the shape of you effortlessly
But forgetting that I once knew you intimately
This figure standing before me, anew
Confirmed…

 

 

The you I knew
was never you
.

 

 

MG

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