Layers — [collaborative poetry]

Layers is old, layers is new
Layers is a wish or a dream come true

Layer upon layer of sun rays reign
Upon layers and layers of fields thirsting for rain

Removing a layer, atmospheric bliss
Adding a layer, attachments to the old, reminisce

Attachments overlap as layers envelop such bliss
Enamored as its embrace intertwines the intricate

Days to months and months to years
Feeling weak while boldly blooming, the retraction ever so near

Months roll into years into decades into centuries
Time is in essence layers of existence

While the layers unravel into the heart of the known
Sensational timing within a timeless sensation grows unknown

Mysteries of layers unfurl
Enigmas of galaxies within one world

Layered over layered dust,  created from dirt
Layers merge and emerge as beauty blooms from the earth

 

Ses and MG

 

 

(click here for link to Ses’ profile)

 

 

collaborative poetry for Mental Health Awareness Month (June)

 

 

Be Kind, Not Weak

Be kind, be meek.
Be kind,
not weak.

MG

 

 

 

(related — “Kindness is Not Weakness” by MG )

Dig Deep

My sense of belonging
Comes from deep within
Buried beneath layers of rock
Unearthed, uprooted, but strong
I wasn’t born this way, it wasn’t choice
From a young age I had to silence the voices
Of deceit, of greed, of exploitative breeds
Of those who take from me more than the ink I bleed
But did I mind? No, that innocence of mine
Had nothing to lose and everything to give to those who’d once crossed the line
Dared to venture to the other side
From shadows we don’t hide
Instead we make a fire to shine
Through the crevices of broken time
Loops, Hiding in plain sight
This illusion of a plight
To take in order to fall
Through the floor
Break down the walls
And dig holes to find what’s in store
For you, for me
For all to see
Whatever it is they seek
Those who don’t search…will never find
The truth behind the lies

MG

-April 2016

Language Barriers

Personal true story (5-minute read)

“Oh my god, did you read about the winner-chill on the innernet?” one of the girls shrieked. “It’s like the biggest one of the error. Apparently the chill is even hitting eye-rack this year!”

Winner-chill? Innernet? I felt like they were speaking another language.

What was a winner-chill? Honestly, I thought it was when someone wins a victory and then gets to chill afterwards.

And innernet, as if there was an unconscious net on the inside of us, catching our thoughts and dreams.

Biggest of the error…eye-rack…alright, they’d lost me there. Lost as I felt, I kept listening to the conversation, hoping to pick up more clues as to what they were on about.

After about ten minutes of back and forth, I finally understood they were speaking about the cold spell that they’d read about online. It was one of the coldest of the century; even some generally hot countries in the Middle East were having an unusual temperature shock!

Winner-chill… winter chill. Right.

Innernet… internet. Oh goodness, I had a lot to learn.

Error was apparently “era”, and an eye-rack was not, in fact, a rack where people placed their eyes. It was a country, Iraq.

I felt so dumb.

For me, the English I’d learned was either through reading or watching legitimate news channels. You know, those channels where people sound “pretentious” just because they communicate to be understood. They don’t speak just for the sake of expression, rather their words have meaning.

In this situation, the language my schoolmates spoke was known as “common tongue”, a form of syntax and pronunciation that met the bare minimum requirement for English verbal communication.

At the time, I had not yet been educated in the use of this language, having come from a background where the English I’d learned at school was a watered-down version taught by teachers who’d studied it as a second (or even third) language.

At home, I came from a family of high-achieving academics who refused to “dumb-down” their vocabulary. I had no choice but to raise my standards lest I be sorely misunderstood by those in my physical vicinity.

At that age, my written expression had far outpaced my verbal ability to articulate. I would write about advanced phenomena that my conscious mind didn’t even comprehend, yet my mouth could not accurately convey what I knew I wanted to say.

Finally, by the age of twenty-five, a linguistically-gifted friend observed an interesting occurrence within my syntax: all my life, I had been speaking “translated English”. Every word I wrote mirrored the language used in textbooks translated from European languages, and those I spoke actually made more sense when reworded in another language.

It had taken me twenty-five years to realize why I’d spent my life misunderstood and displaced…

Language is like art, or music. Just because the creator (or speaker) knows the meaning behind what is portrayed does not necessarily mean that those on the receiving end can digest it.

You might like your drawing, or your symphony, but to someone else, that drawing might be a scribble; that symphony may be a cacophony.

Why limit ourselves to expression when we can work towards communication? If we are misunderstood, chances are, we’re using a different language.

Dialogue goes both ways, not just one speaking a “foreign language” and expecting to be taken seriously.

Learn more languages (or improve your English), you’ll find better ways to be understood.

Peace,
MG

Hello Silence

Hello silence, ye olde friend
Once acquainted, we meet again
We do not see one another often
Not since I left you alone in that coffin
Where have you been, you strange mystery
You glance, then evade our torn reality
As if you are nothing but a dream
A flicker in time, an untold memory

Hello silence, a strange companion
The one who soundlessly, readily creeps in
One who dwells in questionable existence
As if your form is nothing but pretense
You take over while many are sleeping
You echo in the hollows of the disbelieving
I found you once and tried retrieving
But it ended with a mortal “me” retreating

Hello silence, once again
The final greeting before your descent
As suddenly as life begins
Your demise — silence…ends.

MG

Mystery

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

Strolls Part II

(Trying out a new style)

 

Buildings, buildings, all around
Clank, honk, traffic sounds.
Bamboo scaffolding, held up by zip-ties
Prolonging a moment in a realm where time flies.

Preoccupied by a gentle grip,
Glimmering glimpses of “sweet lil’ bits”.

Complexities, confusion, structured chaos surrounds
Simplicity, serenity, calms the storms around.

The moon shone brightly, resting atop a roof
–of a construct ever so foreign to me;
this territory was new.

The clouds swayed and drifted into the distance
An enjoyment of this unencumbered innocence.

The water — still as could be,
— reflected the moon, vibrant, present.
The boats docked, uninterrupted silence
Passionate simplicity, peaceful, pleasant.

 

 

MG

Submarines

Submarines.

Float, sink, swim.
Up, down
Back, forth
Dare I say,
in and out.

Over, under.
Immerse, emerge.
Plunge, halt.
Release, holt.
Forward, backwards.
Round, straight.

Bullet.
Proof.

Never missile proof.

Resistance of the seas
Push and pull
Against the currents
Along with the wave-
-lengths
Of fluidity
As evidenced
By the ever-flowing,
Always-forward,
Sometimes-evaporated
Seas

Reflecting the skies.

Blue, sunny

Vast.

Endless stretch into eternity
Infinity on the rise.

And fall.

Compress.

 

Resist.

 

Fight through.

 

And emerge.

 

MG

 

Love is our resistance
They keep us apart and they won’t stop breaking us down
And hold me, our lips must always be sealed
If we live our life in fear
I’ll wait a thousand years
Just to see you smile again
~Muse~