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

Reality

They won’t know where you’ve been
Nor where you’ve going
All they know is…
Where you are.
~Anon~

Judge all you want
What I say or do
For you know nothing of what
I’ve gone through
Who I’ve been
What I’ve seen
To get to where I am
I’ve done what I can

I’m a nobody to many
And a somebody to few

You decide
Which side
Of the fence you stand
I can only hope you’d understand
That the choices I make
I’ve learned from mistakes
Once made

I’m still moving toward

Destinations forward
Learning along the way
Growing every day

For now, this is how it’s going to be
If you want to be with me
Then accept that it’s my journey
I’m doing the best I can already
To hold onto sanity
Can’t you see?
So if you don’t like my reality
Feel free to write me down as a memory

MG

Advice to My Younger Self

Dear younger self,

I am going to write this from the perspective of an older self that you have only recently come to understand.

There was a time you thought you knew it all, m’dear, you thought you had it all figured out. Much of it owed to what those around you allowed you to believe; they put you on that pedestal you never asked for, gave you the attention you never felt you deserved, treated you with their version of “respect”.

Young self, you must understand one thing, not everyone is like you. Yes, you’re self-indulged, but they, m’dear, they are self-absorbed. They’re too caught up in the busyness of their own lives to appreciate all you have to offer. So hold onto some of it, dear, don’t give all of it away.

You invite them into your world, but you have yet to discover the galaxies inside of you. They know not of these universes that you, too, are unaware of at this moment, but they see the light shine through and are drawn to it.

You can welcome them, m’dear, you were born to be hospitable. You were born with arms longer than the average human, arms that reach around the world and embrace the souls that are in genuine need of touching. It’s what you do, because of the kindness, grace, and mercy that has gotten you this far. So don’t take it for granted, m’dear. Hold onto that.

One day, you will reach a realization that you can choose who to let in — yes. everyone who enters deserves respect and sincerity, but not everyone will choose to stay. And for that reason, my young self, know your boundaries and accept your limits. Know your role in their lives, and accept that you can’t be a saviour to your entire world.

Sometimes, transformation does begin by letting go, by pushing yourself off the cliff that was once your comfort zone, your nest.

One day, m’dear, you will meet someone who can and will do for you all that you’ve done for others. Someone who will look at you, appreciate you, and not want to let you go. Someone who not only has that desire, but also that willpower.

So for now, m’dear, do not rush. Don’t be that impulsive naive self that got you into the wreck in the first place. The wreck was so long ago anyway, it may as well be a divers’ hub by now. Swim away, m’dear. There’s nothing more you can do than you’ve already done to atone for the atrocities of your past.

I am that future you never dared to dream of, m’dear. That future is now present.

Embrace it, love. It’s time to stop surviving the storm and start thriving from what the waves have washed ashore.

Now that you’ve learned to shield yourself from waves and breathe underwater, how about moving on up and learn to ride that wave?

 

 

MG

 

 

 

 

To Be Free… (Poetic Dialogue)

How free can we be
When free is different to you and me

To be free of sickness and pain
or to be free from knowledge that constrains?

Knowledge is freedom
Sickness constrains

Pain strengthens
Love liberates

In freedom we find power
In power, freedom diminishes

Humbled and meek
Freedom we seek
To love is to be free…

To love is to feel pain
Can freedom be found in both, simultaneously?

To forget pain, to embrace change
Can surrendering to love be the key?

What if the door was never locked
And surrender was not the answer

What if love wasn’t a battlefield
And freedom didn’t mean war
?

Freedom meant contentment
Contentment meant no lessons learned

Our lessons were our blessings
Freedom means progressing

Progressing to larger mountains
A new climb in time

Atop the Peak, see the world from afar
Enchanted by city lights

City lights bring me fright when viewed from above
They flicker like freedom, on and off.

To reemerge in the city
To be one with the light — to be free.

The lights are cut; now only the moonshine can guide

In the dark we hide
The secrets in us they confide

Open confinement when darkness comes about
One in the same when light could not display differences

Echoes in the distance, silence surrounds
Unity and harmony, love and deliverance
.

Peace of mind
True freedom found

Serenity of the heart
Tranquility resounds

Beats of infinity
Rhythms of entity.

 

MG and BB

 

This poem itself is a collaboration with B. Florian, inspired through conversations and poetry. The sharing of thoughts and connectivity of ideas bloomed with collaboration.
#InternationalPoetry

Obsession

“The person who wrote this
Permitted me to post it
But only on the premise
That I keep the name anonymous”

Letter To A Lover

I’m writing this knowing that you probably won’t read it, and even if you did, you sure as hell won’t bring it up, so win-win for me. I get it out the system whilst helping you to avoid the responsibility of feeling like you have to care. It puts the choice in your hands, and I’d understand either way.

Obsession.

I’m like an addiction to you, a fascination, this idea of a person as if I’m from a novel or movie. Thank you, by the way, it is highly flattering.

Why am I writing to you about it? Because, darling, I can relate. I know how much it means to you that people can relate to how you’re feeling, and so here’s me, telling you openly that I completely understand your obsession.

I was obsessed with myself, too, once upon a time. Unsurprisingly, as well. You’ve felt it, you know why. Imagine actually being in my shoes where running is not an option. Where being surrounded and encompassed by my own presence time and time again is pretty much my reality.

Yes, I have people in my life who know me.

And I have you.

Well, I know you.

I don’t have you.

I’m not great with possession: I enjoy you, I appreciate you, but I don’t base the foundations of my life on you, darling. Romance should be an experience, an entertainment.

My greatest fear with romance is that I become anything more than a desire. I like the wanting, the longing, the obsessing. I could commit if I wanted to, my dear, to friends and to family. But romance, darling, romance is dessert.

And dessert is great in doses.

I, too, am apparently great in doses. This, I’ve come to accept as truth, with the amount of addicts who’ve overdosed on me and instead of healing, ended up poisoned. That’s not entirely my fault, either…a bottle of medicine doesn’t generally sprout legs and walk; it is picked up and consumed.

So my darling, I do understand your obsession.

Being with me is bordering obsessive. If you want me, and not merely the idea of me, then we’re just going to have to be okay with that, won’t we?

Signed with love,
Z.

The Arguments We Forgot to Have

(Creative writing: 2016)

“If you’re sick of everyone falling for you, stop being so bloody perfect then,” she’d screamed at me, a sheer projection of inadequacy.

*      *     *     *    *

I know that feeling, I was young once, and I remember that insecurity. I also remember the effort it took to outgrow those feelings of “never being enough”, and while part of it was conscious effort to always improve every aspect that was within my control, the other part of it was simply to give it time…to give myself time.

I’d wanted to say that. I knew it was the right thing to say. But the right thing to say would’ve resulted in me having to explain myself, and then talk about my life story or how I came to that realization. It would be insulting, if anything, considering I’ve been writing about my journey for years. You don’t read it, then you ask me questions I’ve already answered countless times, in multiple ways.

Instead, you come at me with these projections and I’m shielded by my own experiences…ones I was never shy about, ones I’ve blasted expressively for years.

Calling me perfect, as if that’s not offensive. As if I’d had everything handed to me and never had to work a day in my life. As if…

Sure, you have the right to feel what you want to feel. You have to express whatever you want.

I also have the right to simply say “Ok, glad you got that out your system now. Was I supposed to do something about it?”

No, darling. I’m not.

It’s that same damn thing you do, every single time you want me to tell you how I feel, knowing that you’re not going to do anything about it. Well, I’m not either. And if the best action is inaction to let things fall into place, then so be it. But I’m not playing your games and I’m not running circles chasing typhoons.

And no, I’m not walking away. What from, anyway? A shadow? A fragment of a memory? An unfinished reality that was never made?

No, darling. Running is your thing, and fighting is mine.

It’s what we do. I’ve accepted that, over time. It’s taken long enough.

I still miss you, but I can’t hold onto what never existed, darling. Much as you wanted to exist, you chose not to, and I suppose that’s what hurts the most…is that at the end of the day, much as you wanted to choose me…you couldn’t. You chose…you

That’s okay, though. I’ve learned to live without you; it’s you who has to live with you.

And for your sake, I sincerely hope you find yourself to be as enjoyable as I found you…If anything…I hope you find you.

I hope you let yourself be found.

Again.

I love you, always.

MG