Be Kind, Not Weak

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

MG

 

 

 

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

Morning Sun Midnight Rain

Every morning, I open the curtain
Hoping for some sun to pour in
Some days, I get a shining radiance
That gives a majestic illusion of permanance
Only to have it take a break
Almost exactly the very next day
When the clouds roll in and the rain pours down
Thunder roars, lightning flashes all around
It showers the city with acid and carbon
Melting away concrete that took weeks to harden
I watch as the city slowly fades
Into the sillhouette that was once my escape
A place containing many a memory
That I’ve recorded in ink and written down as history
Awaiting in silence for the sun
To sing its song of frivol and fun
To dry up the gloom of humid rain
To illuminate the paths that few dare to take
To warm the frozen hearts that roam
Around this street without a soul
To shed some light on the lack of humanity
That takes place in this atrocity of a city
Maybe the sun will shine again
Well, it will… but who knows when…

MG

Voice

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

without a theme

Write a poem without a theme
A concoction of words across the screen
Nothing of meaning
Lacking in feeling
Write a poem that’s easier than breathing

Here’s that poem for which you asked
Wearing frivolous diction as a mask
A few minutes pass
And alas
Here’s that poem I have been tasked

What’s the purpose of this poem?
I can’t find a reason, I just don’t know
Write with the flow
And this is what shows?
What is the purpose of your poem?

There is none, as declared in the first line
Or’ve you forgotten your initial desire?
A poem to write
With nothing to describe
Such was the challenge to write these lines

Well then I thank thee for such nullity
For words drenched all over in mediocrity
For mere quantity
And no quality
Thank you for sacrificing… nullity

My dear friend, you get what you ask for
And what you required was something mediocre
You wanted nothing more
Than plain and simple words
So here’s that poem you requested before

A point you may have, my comrade, touche
Your simplicity has opened my eyes today
I’d invite you stay
A fair game you’ve played
One that ended in the word “touche”.

 

MG

 

Moving On

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

 

 

I Come From A City Where…

I come from a city where…

Kids can make computer games
But don’t know how to ride a train

Teens can ace quantum physics
But have no clue about budget sheets

College kids can start revolutions
But with love they’ve no solution

Thirty year olds still watch cartoons
But can’t define platoon or harpoon

Forty year olds still live with mommy
But convince themselves they’re free

Fifty year olds try out kick-start companies
That last no more than fifty two weeks

The sheer existence of intelligence
If not balanced is meaningless

This city is filled with educated idiots
Whose lives rely on widgets

MG

The Battle Continues

Filled with secrets that we keep
Surmounting each one as we speak
Hiding in the crevices of us
Wondering if we’d ever trust enough
To reveal to others our vulnerable selves
While on the surface many choose to dwell
Holding onto untested truths
Jaded, unguided, confused in the gloom
All headed to our resting places, they say
Upon which many a head shall lay
The birch on which the raven is perched
When we’ve more skulls than what roams the earth
A dark shadow is cast o’er the moors
Echoes howl in the distance, never more
Stifled screams silenced, and repeat
Battling, until the enemy retreats
This “enemy” of whom you speak
Will we ever a chance to meet
Will they ever an untold secret to keep
Between your alleged “enemy” — and me?

MG

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