The Curious Adventures of Gordan's Thoughts

What do we do when the enemy cries?
Do we mock their pains, or empathise?

What do we do when the racists scream
that they want to conserve their liberties?

What do we do when classists steal
from those who have less material?

What do we do when sexists refuse
to embrace others as human but then make excuses?

What do we do when homophobes whine
about the fear of being ‘hit on’ all the time?

What do we do when ageists enforce ideals
not to address them by name but instead by title?

What do we do when religious indoctrination
is interpreted with arrogance and not with empowerment?

What do we do when any other human
believes it’s acceptable to compete for validation?

What do we do when abusers run towards weapons,
provoke violence, get beaten, then play ‘victim’?

What do we do when the enemy cries?
Do we mock their pains, or empathize?

 

MG

 

 

 

 

Inspired by Hong Kong 

The bird wanted the fish to feel
How free it was to fly
He plucked the fish from the sea
And got angry when it died…

MG

 

 

 

[Moral]
Acceptance and cooperation
The bird is freest when flying in the sky, whereas the fish is freest in the water.
The bird imposed its own understanding of freedom on the fish then was disappointed that the fish could not fly.

[Lesson]
The problem was that the bird did not adjust its expectation, but the solution was that the bird could adapt.
It just ate the dead fish.

One day, two world leaders got together
To discuss a deal that would benefit each other

One said, “I’ll paint my country as heaven
but really it will be hell.
People will flock from all over
to drink from our immortal well.”

The other replied, “I’ll canvas mine as hell
but really it will be heaven.
No one will dare draw near;
no humans means no pollution.”

The first leader smiled, “I’ll build factories for the humans,
teach them the bare minimum
and ensure cheap production,
then I’ll sell them to your nation.”

The second smirked and said, “I’ll drench them with education
and dictate the laws of freedom,
They’ll design our ammunition
and set up our revolution.”

The first raised an eyebrow, “You think you can take us on?
Your ego is not that strong.
You’re weak with humanity and empathy,
you will have a crumbled economy.”

The second laughed and replied, “Depends what you define as economy.
To you, it’s the paper trail of money,
To your people, it’s multiple properties.
To us, money is simply
but a tool to enhance our humanity.”

The first was enraged by this plan
for he did not understand
what it meant to be loved, to be respected, to be free;
he was oppressed by his own beliefs.

The second was not too scared,
for there weren’t many who needed his care.
He provided the tools and let them pave a way,
then reveled in delight of what they’d made.

~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

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

 

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

 

 

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