Clueless in Romance

G!

The general rule is that
The more you are acquainted
With something the more you
Will come to know about it. By
That I mean the who, what, when,
Where and how, a manual for the
Cogs in the machine that makes
The thing work the way it is - and
If it's not too much trouble the 'Why'
Might also like to shed some light
On its secrets or hidden devices. So
Allow me to wonder why I know
So little about love though I've now
Been its companion for 3 years.
Allow me also to ask why I still
Scratch my head when I read your
Love poems, because the sensations
You describe are entirely foreign to
Me (not the ticklish feeling on the
Side of my bum when our faces
Touch - I feel that too because
I have sensitive nerves - but all
The seemingly transcendental
Experiences your prose hints
At so elusively), though not so
Foreign as to make me not
Lose sleep over it.
You know the feeling when
You're on the threshold of
A profound realization - the
Significance of which you
Have yet to grasp? Well I
Seem to be on that threshold,
Flattening myself against an
Translucent barrier that lets
Me see only shadows of what
Lies beyond my scope of
Understanding, and reveals
Nothing further. Obviously
You are telling me something
Profound (profound to you
At least), and sadly the
Substance of that profoundness
Is lost on me. It's like a letter
In invisible ink, I'd like to read
Its secrets, but I don't have the
Light to shine on the words.
You like to end your poems
With a question, so allow me
To confess that my mind
Comes up blank when I try to
Articulate the thoughts to
Generate my own such poems
And answer your inquiries. An
Unanswered question weighs
Heavily on my mind; you've
Given me several that left me
Speechless in reply. I pride
Myself on asking all the
Difficult questions, but
It looks like you're the
One giving me the most
Difficult ones all along.

Emotional Isolation

On the piece of land that
Is my figurative soul, you
Might come across
A castle - one that satisfies
Every definition of the word
"Fortress". This massive
Structure of polished
Sedimentary rock with
The mile-wide moat
Around it might
Look so imposing on
The outside that you
Might not notice the
Drawbridge is down
And the gridiron gate
Is raised. Upon entering
through the arches of the
Main gate towers, you might
Notice a reception stand with
No receptionist and the words
"Visitors are welcome" printed
On a sheet of paper taped to
The counter. There is no
Brochure to divulge the
Map of this castle, and
Most people don't take
This as an invitation to
Explore at will. The
Vast courtyard - as vast
As Tiananmen Square -
Contains not a single
Blade of grass, not a
Leaf of vegetation.
There are also no
Statues and/or fountains
Sprouting jets of water.
Naturally people don't
Give this scene a second
Glance, and miss noticing
That the large slab tiles
Paving the ground beneath
Their feet are adorned with
Intricate line carvings detailing
Great adventures and legends
Which might be quite fascinating
If you're into that kind of thing.
Make your way into the castle
Proper, and you might explore
All the many empty rooms like
Cathedrals with their spacious
Parameters and tall ceilings.
And the echoes of your
Footsteps creating music
Resonating perpetually in
The vastness. If you listen
Closely, you can hear a
Different music in every
New room you come to
(Don't worry around getting
Lost, the exit is always just
A few steps away, for a
Speedy departure); all these
Rooms are empty except
One; and naturally the
Room that isn't empty
Draws the most curiosity.
This I sometimes find
Puzzling; are a thousand
Empty universes no less
Profound than a grain of
Matter? Nevertheless, we
Are servants to our curious
Desires, and if you are
Determined to seek out
The one room that does
Not resonate with your
Own footsteps, be your
Own guest; but like I
Said before, there exists
No map to this castle,
So you cannot find your
Way to it unless you
Explore diligently with
A bit of luck at your
Side. To this day,
I don't think anyone
Has found the way to
This one room yet.

Requiem

G!

No composer in the history
Of music seemed to have
Written more than one
Requiem.

It makes sense, because
Death only comes once.

By definition a requiem is
A mass for the dead; the
Departed; the deceased.

I wonder if composers
Had in mind the mentally
Defeated teenagers of
Today as well as recently-
Rendered corpses when
They sat down to pen
Requiems.

I wonder if a composer
Has ever written a requiem
For soul-crushed high-school
Students; in our world, it seems
The mortality rate of the mind has
Risen above the mortality rate of
The body and flesh. It seems this
Mortality rate is most prevalent
Among teenagers.

If a requiem were written for
Such teenagers, I hope it is
In the key of B-flat minor.

A Charlie Brown Christmas

It's been 3 months since
The frames of my glasses
Snapped. First the left arm
And then the right. They are
Both broken now, and were
Held together by scotch tape;
Makeshift casts on wounds that
Will never heal. Today the casts
Would hold together no more,
And I must remove the old
Rotten bandages and apply
New ones. I peeled back the
Tape: it was a mess. The glue
On the scotch tape had coated
The frames in a sticky layer of
Glue mixed with sweat and skin
Oils. It got on my fingers, and
I couldn't even hold the frames
Together to tape the broken
Joints anew. Now I see what a
Great metaphor these broken
Eyeglass frames are for me: I
Have been broken for quite
Some time already, but I have
Carried on as if nothing had
Happened; I held myself
Together with tape and
Bandages that merely
Covered up the damage.
Now, the bandages are
Undone. As I write these
Words without my eyesight,
I realize finally, that I have
Fallen apart.

The Worst Kind of Love

G!

The worst kind of love turns
Gallant souls into dumb idiots
And heroic hearts into cowards.

The worst kind of love is
Afraid to look you in the eye;
It is apprehensive and suspicious.

The worst kind of love does
Not break down inhibitions, it
Reinforces them instead.

The worst kind of love is
Like a hoarder who wants everything
And does nothing with anything.

The worst kind of love thinks
Treating you differently from everyone
Else justifies its love for you.

The worst kind of love is
Meek and submissive, which
Would have been fine if it isn't
Also lacking in self-esteem.
Meekness shows respect for
Others, and it doesn't mean you
Can't respect yourself all the same.

The worst kind of love always
Mumbles instead of speaking.

It's better to not love at all than to
Succumb to the worst kind of love.

Towards Ruin?

G!

I see it now.
I'm not going
To school to
Learn anymore.
I'm not going
For the facts and
equations.
I'm not going
For the verbs and
Nouns and artsy
Things either - at
Least I shouldn't be.
Nope, I should be
Going to school
For the grades,
The grades, that's
Right! The grades
Are the most important
Thing in life, more so
Than sleep, more so
Than self-preservation, and much
More so than sanity.
Without grades I have
No future, no worth, no
Nothing. Well, I guess
I'm not doing too well
At that, then. I've been
Wondering why I can't
Bring myself to study
Any of my subjects, and
The matter is simple, I was
Still convinced that I go to
School to learn. Oh silly me
How wrong I was! No I did
Not memorize those laws and
Equations, how to do those
Homework questions step-by-step,
I thought that was pointless! Oh no,
I was wrong. It's not enough to just
Write down what's important in neatly-
Packaged bullet-point notes, so even if
I forget I can simply reteach myself
The whole lessons, no! That's the pointless
Thing! What's important is do, do, do! Do more
Of it; more practice; more homework; more and
More and more until I'm a calculator at it, that's
What's important, because that's what gets me
The grades that are my whole life. Who cares if
I don't understand any of it? Knowledge is not an
end in itself, fool, is a means! It is a means
To an end and that end is grades! Grades, fool!
Get it into that stubborn head, grades is the end!
Forget knowledge, forget wisdom, forget learning
How to learn (unless I'm learning how to learn to
Acquire those grades), forget it all if I want a future,
If I want what I don't know whether I even want,
forget it all. All but grades is expendable.
Get it into that head, fool. Get it.

Failing Out of Time

G!

Sometimes I think
My brain is
Not conditioned to
Think it through
Quickly, which is
Why I run out
Of time writing
Tests. "You have
To realize that
It's your fault",
My teachers tell
Me. They say,
I don't know
How to manage
My time when
I'm answering those
Questions; they kindly
Inform me as
One would tell
A little child
How much they
Do not understand
In the world.

The ironic thing
Is I understand
The lessons, I
Just want to
Learn it on
My own terms
(Which I guess
Is the wrong
Way to learn),
That means writing
Slowly and thinking
As though I
Have all my
Life to complete
This paper in
Front of me.

What do tests
Actually measure? Surely
Not our capacity
For knowledge,
They do not
Care about that;
I personally think
Tests simply test
Our ability to
Write tests, which
They assume represents
Our intelligence and
Capacity to hold
Information, though they
Are more likely
Different things altogether.

I forfeited my
Test paper, a
Whole quarter left
Unfinished. I wonder
What the unanswered
Questions are about,
Because surely I
Knew the answers;
Sadly, the question
Is taken away
Before I could
Answer it. What
Saddens me about
This is not
My inadequacy at
Writing tests according
To their standards,
But the void
Of an unanswered
Question, an incomplete
Solution, an essential
Part of a
Whole, missing from
The canvas of
Knowledge and reasoning.

This black, hollow
Void is in
Me now, because
I did not
Fill it when
It presented itself
For its duration
Of 45 minutes.
I did not
Have the time
To fill it.
I have failed
Out of time.
I have failed.