The Bull

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

From Kings to Paupers

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

 

Greatness

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~

Time

To you,

I write this because I can articulate with my hands better than the occasional eloquence that springs from these lips of mine.

Alas, I shall get straight to what I want to say.

You.

You entered my life unexpectedly, into my (unbeknown to me) open doors. That spark, that chemistry, that depth felt in an instant.

I knew.

But I thought that perception was jaded and one-sided.

So time went by as the seconds passed, the globe spun circles around the sun, and the calendar slowly lost its weight as the pages gently dropped.

Time, that strange essence combining both everything and nothing, a unity of dissonance and resonance. Distance and resistance.

Time, a best friend and a worst enemy. ‘Tis time that mends, but also breaks. ‘Tis time that yearns, but also contains.

Time.

Much like snowflakes in the middle of summer, or the ray of sunshine on a cold winters’ day; a rarity, a phenomena.

Time was all that was needed. My love, haven’t you heard? Time is infinite… you have it yet you don’t… because, my love…time does not exist.

All that matter-ializes within time is reality, when dreams and reality meet, and all that was once mundane suddenly encompasses new sensations.

That, m’dear, that is the beauty of it all.

You.

MG

Intentionally Untitled

M.

I write to you from the bottom of this empty pit you used to call a heart. You had a heart once, remember? Back in the day, when you always had someone to love. When you had everything to give and nothing to lose. When you truly believed in the kindness of humanity and allowed as much leeway for others as they did for you.

Do you remember what it’s like to love, what it’s like to look at someone and just be able to take yourself out of the picture, to be able to care about the betterment of that person more than your role in the life of another?

I don’t think you do, my dear. I don’t think you want to. I think you’ve loved to your fullest capacity and given it all away — you’ve given your heart away. You’ve given your soul away. You’ve given your body away. You’ve given your mind. You’ve given away so much of yourself that you’re left with the core.

I’ve seen your core, my dear, and I know exactly what it entails for you to be you. I understand your intelligence, I know how it feels to be ostracized by ignorance and idiotic masses who have been lowering the standards of what is produced because they’re too entangled in their own egos and insecurity. I know your pain when you look at the world and watch people care more about their reputations more than the people in their lives who give it to them in the first place.

I know you, my dear, I know that you’re suffering. And I know that you choose to suffer because you want to be around the broken. You want to be the saviour of the world, for you’ve had people save you when you didn’t even realize you were drowning.

My dear, I’ve spent years in search of you. Every broken, shattered shard of glass that you turn yourself into every day that you look at this chaotic and monotonously egotistic world of humans. I’ve been trying to piece you back together, despite your relentless resistance towards being whole.

I’ve given you space to do this alone. I stayed out of your way so that you could grow. I’ve stayed in the background in case you backslide, I’ve been at the bottom of the canyon in case you fall. You can do this alone, but your solitude…has collateral…

You might want to be left alone, but my dear, I know how dangerous you can be when no one is reining in on you. I also know that you can’t be contained, which is why I wouldn’t dare try.

But one thing is certain. You want someone to stay…you just can’t accept that you have it already.

Because my dear…here I am.

I’ve been here all along. You just never realized it while you were so busy watching the great-wide-world break that you didn’t even notice the cracks in your own. The earthquakes and tsunamis reaching out to you from the depths of what you once loved about yourself.

Back when you still knew how to love.

Back…when I was a secret, and not a performance.

Back when…

I was you.

 

 

G.

 

Do You Remember?

Do you remember, m’dear
Back when you had everything to confront yet nothing to fear
Everything to give and nothing to lose
Everything decided and nothing to choose? 

Do you remember when you looked up at the buildings?
The skyscrapers?

Do you remember when you tried to do it alone?
You dug and dug
more and more rabbit holes 

Do you remember? 

When you challenged a system that was created for
You,
not to challenge but to enjoy.
Still you chose to explode and destroy
Be it with excitement
Unprecedented curiosity
Unencumbered fascination
But do you remember your impulses?

Do you remember being… 

 

free…? 

 

MG 

Arbitration

I was stuck in a room with the two of them, both of whom felt the other to be intolerable. I was summonsed to arbitrate the situation, a mediation of sorts. Why? Well…I was about to find out.

When I’d first entered the room, I saw him sitting there with a sideways glare, arms folded across the chest in his tight black t-shirt, leg crossed over the other as his foot rested on his knee.

She, she was no better. She had her arms folded across her chest, too, but take away the glare and replace it with a whole bunch of huffs and hisses, fidgeting with the cuffs on her white jacket.

So this was my situation. They couldn’t agree. Again.

It wasn’t my first time dealing with this pair, either. And for matters of respecting their confidentiality, we shall give them nicknames. He will be called the Head, and She will be called the Heart.

My last few encounters with these two weren’t particularly pleasant; don’t get me wrong, we did achieve wonderful results. But my, how these two fought…so worth it. So entertaining, too, in retrospect. See, in my experience with these two, Heart always knew what she wanted. She was full of desire, of want, of love and compassion. She was kind, but she was strong as a boulder that would not change, only…fade…

Head, on the other hand, had this tendency to be right every single time. He was logical, calculated, and understanding. The empathy he lacked was replaced with honesty; brutal at times, but he didn’t play games.

When Head took the lead on the argument, the outcome would generally be of mutual benefit. Head had an objective outlook on life and was able to take himself out of the picture when analyzing a situation.

Heart, however, would always lead with her emotions. She cared about how people felt in a situation, and she also cared about herself. Heart was less likely to take herself out of the picture, and for that reason, allowed Head to take the lead when it came to situations involving others…

For years, Head was the one who made a regular appearance. He was the one trained to talk to people. Head had kept Heart hidden to protect her for so long that she didn’t quite know how to get what she wanted.

For that reason, I was asked to be present today. I had to solve their dilemma…for the first time, Heart wanted something that only Head knew how to get, and Head’s advice went against Heart’s desire.

Oh crikey, I had my work cut out for me…

MG

As I Lay Dying

(Creative writing, REALLY old one from 2011. Darker writing, found it when I was going through old material.)

———

And as I lay dying,
the sounds of the conspirators remind me
of who I was supposed to become.

It’s never too late to be who you want to be, but watching the world pass by your dying corpse, you realize there really was no purpose.

That last slash, that last pill, that little nudge… you realize all along that you made the right choice.

But the one time you wonder what it would have been like to hold on rather than back down; for that split second, a moment of the reality of what “could have been” just flashes behind your reluctant eyelids.

The knowledge that all you needed was 3 more seconds with her…and it wouldn’t be you on this end.

You would be the one standing, watching her beg for life. She would be the one asking herself what she could’ve done to change it all. She would wonder what she could have done to re-write the ending.

And that’s when you see it…you envision the blade soaring through the air and puncturing her abdomen. She screams for you to stop as you’re blinded by the rage she fed, provoked, only makes you stronger.

You kick her to the ground and she weeps. Begging for a second chance to live her life differently. Still, you can only be as merciless as she was all along.

She bred this evil monster, fueled the fire ignited once upon a time.

This version of the person she loved has been warped by all the scars and venom injected into veins once innocent.

Nothing will ever mend this brokenness created by the one lying defenseless on the ground. Slowly, as she drowns in a pool of her own blood, you watch her slip away.

Merciless and too selfish to see past your peripheral vision, you wish it was how it used to be.

But now, you’re the one down. Barely able to see past the slits in your dying eyes.

You slip into a coma.

It’s over.

You’re dead to the world, knowing that your last thoughts were nothing but vengeance.

And still…hoping that your legacy lives on…

And as she lay dying, the sounds of the conspirators reminded her of who she could have become…

MG