The Curious Adventures of Gordan's Thoughts

The romantic in me
Falls in love with beauty
A beauty so real
It remains unseen

Tis the beauty of a moment
Trees — nature’s monument
Grapes — that will ferment
Leaves — colour grey cement

Tis the beauty of people
Whose spark makes you feel
Whose presence makes you special
The beauty of family

Tis the beauty of sunsets
A harmonious duet
A beauty that pulls us away from regret
A beauty we shant forget

The romantic in me
Falls in love with beauty
A beauty so real
It’s experienced, not seen

 

MG

You have a voice.

They will try to silence you.
They will make cacophonous noises.
They will project onto you their issues.
They will use you to fill their voids.

But,
you have a voice
that is worth being heard.
One of eloquence and poiuse
One that sings like a bird.

You have a voice
That echoes over the silence
That silences the noise
That weans off the violence.

You have a voice.

How you use it…
…is your choice.

 

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

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

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

 

 

Such twisted bliss
A blissful twist
The masochist and the narcissist
She knows he will break her
Yet still lets him take her
For brokenness was all she had known
And heartlessness was where she had grown
Hopelessly alone, she drew her conclusions
It was a world without love, only illusions
A place overcome by untamed emotion
But her heart remained deep as an ocean
Seeking narcissistic love with its highs and lows
For that roller coaster is all she knows
Desperation, pain
Fear, and rage
On insecurities the narcissist feeds
Validating the ink that bleeds
Enabling the scars a masochist needs
Leaving wounds deeper than skin
Penance for her every sin
Until the day he bled her dry
And the masochist could no longer cry
For her evaporated tears left a stench
And the narcissist’s thirst no longer quenched
Thus he moved on, new prey to hunt
A planet with eight billion is more than enough
Masochists everywhere, they call themselves “humans”
Silver platter for the narcissist — salt, paprika, and cumin.

 

Collaboration MG and dichi_PoeTree

April 2018

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