City Lights

The sun sets,
Slowly dimming the street.
It falls behind the magnificent structure
Of steel, glass and concrete.

The view from this altitude
Is an endless stretch of charm.
With what’s left of the sun’s rays
Reaching from the city to my palm.

As the roads wind and connect
A seemingly complicated system of its own
Extending from where I stand to infinity
Further and deeper, the winding roads flow.

You illuminate this beautiful creation
Each color pasted against the dark
The blackness of the freshly painted evening sky
Anything you connect with lights a spark

Your endless glow revealing the city’s corners
The secrets, illusions, blind to the naked eye
But all is clear: the cars and the trees
The alley ways, the gangs, the random passer-bys

The people, the animals, the steel buildings
The clouds, the moon, the glowing stars
The trucks, the dogs, the plants and pipes
Everything is clear, from here to afar

You see it all yet you say no words
You keep the secrets that all conceal
You are the one who knows everything
You hold the key to any darkness revealed.

For you are the reason that so many souls
Have been brought to life by the flick of a switch
You are the reason that people who search
Can see through the mask to the bottom of the pit.

~Mikaela Gordan, 2008~

Many construct buildings while I construct villages. Villages grow into towns, into cities; a building will always just β€œbe”.

What Are We?

i am one

What are we?
We are a generation.

A generation of dreamers
who are told to walk when we can fly.

A generation of poets
who speak of nothing but truth.

A generation of scholars
who are censored through education.

A generation of learners
who know nothing and everything.

A generation of thinkers
whose thoughts we are taught to suppress.

A generation of radicals
who are oppressed by our leaders.

We are a generation.

A generation of non-conformists
who are intimidating to the sheep of our society.

A generation of critics
who live by a standard.

A generation of soldiers
who are willing to fight.

A generation of fighters
who are trained to live by standards set by society.

A generation of creators
who create a paradigm of humanity.

A generation of philosophers
who are criticized for depth.

A generation of influence
who are hindered by time.

A generation of doers
who haven’t made a mark in history.
Yet.
A generation of historians
who are making a mark in history.

We are.
A generation.

A generation of people
who will not be robotised.

A generation of humans
who will not lose our dignity.

But we,
this generation;
us –

We are what we are.
We will be what we want.
We are a result of history
and we are the makers of our future.

But at present,
we are this generation.
And if you break us,
you will make us.

Us, this generation,
is made from the debris of our ancestors.

~Mikaela Gordan~

Society

Blank.

I sit and stare at my screen
Trying to find the words to say
But to tell all that I’ve seen
Well… I’ve only got a day

For every finger we point
There are three pointing back
At us for our inadequacies
And corresponding fallacies

They push you to the edge
Only to knock you down
Then blame you for being on the cliff
When they nudge and you crash and burn

Instead of changing minds
My actions are seen as crimes
Being different comes with a price
One I’m paying with my life

No one seems to see
That society creates agony
The amount of negativity
A result of truths unseen

Unseen to the average human
Sheltered in their comfort zones
Safety nets of their construct
Phased by life’s cyclones

All that we perceive
We trust the concrete
All that we can see
Is our defined reality
We fear the unknown and the unseen
For it unravels our insecurities
Everything we think we perceive
The lies we’re taught to believe
The person we’re told to be
Is a manifestation of all that is
A social construct – a mythical bliss
~McGordan~