Plato's Cave

So for the last few weeks this philosophical allegory has been bothering me, maybe not bother, so much as puzzled me. It's called "Plato's Cave" and even though I don't fully understand it yet, I'm going to try and explain it to the best of my abilities.

So there are these people, and they are chained facing a wall, and they can't move, or turn around to see what's behind them. Behind them there is a fire, and puppeteers cast shadows onto the wall the people are facing. So all the people ever see are the shadows, all they know are the shadows, and all they believe to be real are the shadows. Then one day, one of the chained people are released and wander out of the cave into the world where they see the sun, and everything in it's "true form". The person begins to understand that the shadows weren't real and that what he see's in the sunlight, that is real. So he hurries back to the cave to tell the others what he's discovered, how the shadows aren't real, but they mock him and tell him he's crazy, the shadows are real they insist.

So I guess what the point of this story is enlightenment, learning the "true form" of everything in the world, and trying to teach others about it. The problem I was having was trying to understand what exactly a "true form" is, and how it was explained to me was that a "true form" is the "perfect form" of something, but I have a hard time wrapping my head around that concept because I don't believe anything can be perfect, and anything I try to imagine is imperfect, so how can I possibly grasp perfection? I apologize if my ramblings have made you yawn, or started to make your eyes droop. More to the point, I wrote a poem about Plato's Cave to try and help myself make sense of it all, maybe it will assist you too!

Lyrical Love,
Cara

Plato's Cave
I am haunted
By shadows cast by figures I can’t see
How do I know who they are?
Or if they in fact are real
If I were to see these shadows my entire life
And then one day turn and see the people behind the shadow
Would I recognize them?
They who have been a presence all my life
Flickering by candle light
Jumping across walls
And dancing before my eyes
My companions
Would I embrace them and feel the warmth?
Or return to the shadows
For they are all I have known
Blinding light reveals the truth
And the truth is
I know nothing

Vulnerability is Love at its Finest

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.” –C.S. Lewis

Crown my Heart and Call me Queen

These words are penned by chipped pink nails, by a girl with a smile on her face and a girl trying to reinvent herself. All I wanted was to go out into this world and find my niche, my space to call my own. I however got caught up in the neon lights, and blacked out nights. I was sucked into a magical world where my troubles went away, and the stars stayed out solely for me. I thought that my fairy tale land was safe, that no one and nothing could touch this sanctuary I called mine. But like a cheaply made vase, there were cracks and flaws in this place, spaces where the darkness seeped in, and I could not hide forever. Anger, fear, sadness, loss, they sought me out like an old friend, and took hold of everything I held dear. They pushed me around, and I fell to the ground. I couldn’t get back up, I didn’t want to, I wanted to stay down forever and let life pass over me so that I didn’t feel the pain, but I was also giving up my joy, and the people I love. Then came the blue eyes, filled with strength, and kindness, a hand extended toward me. I was able to stand, for the first time in what seemed like months, and I held that hand for a while, it guided me, and never let me fall. But I knew he couldn’t stay with me forever, this was my life, these were my burdens, I needed to start walking on my own, I needed to take back this life I had let slip away. I had to let go of the hand that had brought me from the darkness, and hoped he would understand. I have made many mistakes, I have made bad choices, I have lied, I have cheated, and I have let responsibility slip from my fingers. And the worst part is no one held me accountable for my actions. I was my own judge and jury, and because of this, I let things slide when they shouldn’t have, I let people go that I shouldn’t have, and I lost love because of my selfishness. No longer is my mission to find my place in this world, I have a new task, a new journey set out. To give as much kindness as I can, repair burned bridges, and help other people find their place in this world. This is why I smile, because there is still hope.
Love always.
Cara.

Hearts behind bars are like blacked out stars

This poem is long, probably the longest I've ever written, but I feel this dialogue has lots to offer, and maybe you can relate too. We all bump up against walls now and then, and whether we choose to believe in fate or not, we are all following a path, and can choose to step off it if we like. My understanding of Fate may be a little skewed, but to me, Fate is a guide to the place you are meant to end up at, and you can change your path, but in the end, you'll always end up where you're meant to be. The point being though, if you were told the ending of the story, would you keep reading? Even if you didn't like it? Or would you re-write it, could you re-write it? So many rhetorical questions, I'll leave it up to you to decide.

Hearts Behind Bars Are Like Blacked Out Stars

There once was a silly, brown eyed girl
Who opened her heart, and let in the world
She hoped and she dreamed for the One to come along
Sweeping her away to where she belonged
She danced through her life, trying to give more than she gained
She wore dresses and heels, and slept under paper cranes
But one day she woke to a peculiar sight
Something had joined her in the night
Fate sat looming in the corner
Apparently he had come to warn her
“Guard you’re heart, o little one-
Don’t let the boy’s have all their fun-
Because they will take you-
And they will break you-
Little sparrow, they will take your wings –
But I know that you can do most marvelous things-
I see it, I feel it, now you must believe it”
He said as he smoked, with his cigarette lit
Scared, she looked with a questioning stare
Hiding her face with a curtain of hair
“How will I find love if my heart is behind bars?”
She said, with her brown eyes as big as the stars
“How can I be free if you clip my wings?-
You say I can do most marvelous things-
But I’m only a girl, who’s already lost-
And I can’t, and I won’t, forsake love at all costs-
I’ll keep fighting, and searching for him-
Even though your warning is dire and grim-
You may be Fate, but this is my life-
I will take the pain and all strife-
To fight you, dear Fate, I know you are wrong-
So please move along, and stop singing sad songs”
So he got up and shrugged, with a jacket in hand
“So you’ll break the hourglass, but can you pick up the sand?”
He stumbled his way back into the night
Knowing he shouldn't have started this fight
The girl sat there, and watched as he disappeared
She trembled and shook, because this is all that she feared
Her Fate took her one way, while her heart craved another
All she wanted in this life was someone to love her
Even though deemed impossible, and dangerous to pursue
She decided to fight Fate, and so I ask
Will you?

Apologies Are Never Enough

I break my own heart, and watch it fall
And all the while I stand tall
But my soul threatens to pull me down
I wander, lost, in this strange town
Words left hanging on a breakable thread
Silence fills the spaces instead
The pain in your eyes is more than I can take
But I can't, and I won't let you see my heart break
So many things left to say
We turn our backs and walk away

Bad Day Blues

I had a bad day today. It happens, and I just try to deal with it. It was a combination of different things that seemed to form one giant wave of stress, and decide today would be the day to come crashing down on me. Fortunately I had my life jacket on. At first I wallowed in self pity for a bit, and was all “woe is me, my life sucks” but then my brain started to think positive again. So here is a short list of what Cara does when she is sad:

-Dress in bright colors , this always seems to help me, I feel like I radiate positive energy by donning colorful clothes. For example, today I wore a bright purple dress by Silence + Noise, a fuchsia hat from Aldo, zebra stripped earrings from Claires, and an assortment of sparkly jewelry.

-Self Photo Shoot, yes this seems a little self-absorbed, and I too dislike girls who post albums on facebook devoted to multiple shots of themselves, but what I’m suggesting is something different. It’s more celebrating who you are, and appreciating yourself. So grab a camera, don Mardi Gras beads, and sparkly masks, and go camera happy! (Note: You may, or may not post them to facebook, but realize no one wants to scroll through a dozen photos of your face).

-Exercise, yes this may not suit your taste, but I find it actually does help. Whether I’m running or longboarding, my mind is clear, and focused solely on the task at hand. Either negotiating an icy hill, or concentrating on my breathing. Exercise forces you to focus your energy on one task, making you forget you were sad to begin with.

-Read Poetry, I feel like this is a given, since this is a poetry blog. Sometimes I’ll read some sad poems, or maybe go back to an old favorite. Either way I become relaxed, and can think clearly about my problems.

Those are just a few of my solutions, I’m sure other people have some helpful things to do when their sad as well. I feel the only way to deal with a bad day is to have a little “me” time, and then move on.



I leave you with the opening stanza to one of my favorite poems, I would post the whole thing, but it would take up the entire page, and then some. Enjoy!

Augeries of Innocence By: William Blake
To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.

Lyrical Love,
Cara

Cyber Canyon

Sometimes blogging makes me feel like I’m yelling into a canyon, shouting my poems and opinions, only to have them come back to me as a sad lonely echo. It can be most disheartening at times. So what should I do? I feel like there are two options, the first being to stop shouting into this desolate void and realize no one can hear me. However this can be slightly depressing and would leave me discouraged from writing, so we move onto the second option. Embrace the echo, keep shouting into the canyon, and hope that someone hears me and yells back. There are millions/billions of people on the internet; someone must share the same thoughts as me, right? I guess I’m gonna keep shouting and writing, if not for the benefit of others, then myself. I love writing poems, and I love sharing my ideas, and I guess I love hearing my echo as well.

Strained Voices and Choices
She yells, she screams
Although it seems
She only hears herself
She hollers and shouts
But it’s filled with doubt
These echoes are laughing at her
Her voice is strong
She can’t go wrong
She’ll keep fighting and writing
This is the right thing
Listen
I Am Here

Lyrical Love,
Cara

Reflections are Deflections

Curiously empty
Wide eyes with a vacant stare
Once filled so heavily
They threatened to spill over
And drown the world with beautiful rain
Now they hold nothing
Now they hold no one
They are just a mirror reflecting the world

Goodmorning world!

Good morning world! I haven’t been up early in the longest time, not on my own free will anyway. The reason I am up so early is because I had a nightmare last night that has kept me awake since four am. I am a little bitter toward said nightmare, and to be quite honest I think I have already forgotten why it was so scary. However one good thing came from me waking up early, I got to see the sunrise over my sleepy little town. I realized as I lay wide awake in bed, that I have not seen a sunrise in quite some time. Now, I realize some people may not enjoy sunrises like I do; it’s kind of my obsession, same as my obsession with birds, sparkly jewelry, and purple bed sheets. Anyway, the realization that the sun was rising perked me up and I looked eagerly out my window to catch a glimpse. It was beautiful. Fluffy clouds backlight by bright oranges and pale pinks, and a wonderful blue sky to frame it all. It was truly a beautiful moment. I did however catch myself thinking, why are you looking through the window? I have the ability to sit on my roof, but I never do, usually because I am too scared or are afraid people will see me and be like, “Call 911! She’s gonna jump!”, more so the latter over the former. So why do I gaze through the window instead of experiencing things first hand? I think it is really cause of societal norms, I’m afraid people will judge me for doing something different, cause let’s face it; you don’t see many people sitting on their roofs at 5:00 in the morning watching the sunrise. Also, because I am a little scared. Watching the sunrise from my comforting bed is safe, no risk involved, but I lose the firsthand experience of that sunrise. Sometimes I feel you need to take the chance and break your comfort barrier so you can actually live life. Risking things makes you appreciate them more, and you can begin to see the true beauty in life. Suffice to say I did end up sitting on my roof to watch the tail end of the sunrise, and it was, in all actuality, more beautiful that staring through a window.

Morningstar
I sit on the top of the world
And introduce my symphony
Of birds chirping
Wind rushing
The world is alive
The sky is on fire
My eyes gaze hungrily
At what they have craved
Good morning world
I am alive

Lyrical Love,
Cara

Broken down eyes

I tend to scour the web, looking at blogs that intrigue me, and get me motivated to write. This one especially, The Photodiarist, has some amazing photos. One in particular called "These Eye's have seen Miles" was particularly moving. The look in that mans eyes was so sad, I was almost brought to tears (sappy I know) but it looked like he had seen alot of hardship and pain, and my heart felt for him. Living in a privileged world where I have everything I need, I sometimes feel bad that there are people out there with little to nothing. This man made me realize how easy I have it, without saying a word, just looking at me with his broken down eyes.


These Eyes have seen Miles

These eyes have seen miles
And ocean deep skies
They have uncovered the truth
And feasted on lies
They’ve watched and they’ve waited
As people walk by
But these eyes, my eyes
Have seen a city die
Hope gone out
Like a broken streetlight
I sit here alone
And struggle with night
The cold creeps in
And tugs at my soul
I look at a myself
How did I become so old
So I’ll keep watching the crowds
Until I am saved
And observe broken street lights
Flicker and fade

Lyrical Love,
Cara

ps. This mini sized picture does the man no justice, I suggest you head over to The Photodiarist to check it out in a decent size, however I am unable to get a link working right now so please feel free to use good ol' fashioned google.

YOLO!

While driving home tonight I turned on the radio in my car, and a Hedley song came on. It wasn’t one I had heard before but the beginning sounded good so I decided to listen to the rest. For some reason, this song struck a chord with me (no pun intended) and I can’t stop thinking about it. The part of the song that’s been replaying in my head goes: “We might fall apart if we follow our hearts but in the end you know we’ll stay true, if we carry on, if we play along, you can’t say we’re wrong, you can’t say so long, at least we did it our way, we learned the hard way, it’s all that these scars say, at least we did it our way”. My question is, at what point do you stop living for others, and start living for yourself? Some people may try and please their parents, or others try and impress friends but in the end I feel like you only live once (YOLO!), and should live it by your standards, and your own rules. You should live life your own way. And if living your own life means you only sleep in purple pajamas or you have to listen to heavy metal music before you go to sleep, then so be it. No one should tell you how to live your life, you have to figure it out on your own. You should be happy, cause really, that’s what life is about, being happy. So dance in the rain, run barefoot, and follow your heart, cause it will never steer you wrong.

Yolo

I see myself, and I take the wheel
While doubt and fear chase at my heels
But I can outrun them, shake them away
I drive toward dawn, to break into day
I see myself, and I have no fear
Cause I know that girl, that girl is real
With freedom in her eyes and hope in her heart
She’ll never stop, or fall apart
I see myself, and I close my eyes
And let my destination be a surprise
My heart takes the wheel
I’m alive, I can feel
I feel the light
Chasing at night
I drive on this highway, this place I call life

Lyrical love,
Cara

ps. The Hedley song in called "Young and Stupid" if you're interested in listening to it!

The Smoking Stranger

So recently I was staying over at a friends house. In a wretched state of insomnia I sat on the edge of the bed and stared out the window. To my surprise, a man stepped out of the shadows and into the light of a lonely streetlamp, he lit up his smoke, then walked away. It was like something out of a murder mystery movie. Who was this person? I assumed it was a man by his hunched over walk and tall stature, and I wondered why he was out at 2 o'clock in the morning? Was he a fellow insomniac like me? Or maybe his purposes were that of something much darker. So many thoughts swirled in my head and further prevented me from sleep. Oh well. It got me thinking about the darker side of things. I'm not a depressing person, I just like to think of the two sides of life, the light and the dark, and how they balance out. So here's a little something inspired by The Smoking Stranger. Thank you sir.

The Dark Side of The Sun

Street lights flicker and deals are made
Silent nods, then handshakes, now everyone’s paid
Quiet deals done in dark alley ways
With a soft smoking barrel, everyone pays
Only in the night can dark deals be done
The shadows steal light, then sell out the sun
Smoke curls and twist from a crooked grin
The bet has been made, he knows he will win
But those who dwell in the night, hurry away
They’d burn if they ever saw the light of day
Break out the dawn
The shadows are gone

Lyrical Love,
Cara
ps. The verse that I previously posted disappeared from my head as soon as I had posted it. Maybe all it wanted was to be seen by others, some purposes can be so simple sometimes.

Elephants For Want of Towns

So this verse has been kicking around my head for the past couple days, I read it a couple months ago, and now its popped up all of a sudden. Maybe it's a sign? I try treat nothing as a coincidence, or an accident, I believe everything happens for a reason. So why is this silly little verse repeating in my head like a broken record? I'll have to try and figure it out. Stay tuned.

"So geographers, in Afric maps,
With savage pictures fill their gaps,
And o’er uninhabitable downs
Place elephants for want of towns"
-Jonathan Swift

Lyrical Love,
Cara

ps. Just remembered where I read it, it was at the beginning of one of the chapters in The Book of Negros by Lawrence Hill, excellent read if you have the time!

Cute-Meet

She saw him from across the school gym and thought “My, isn’t he handsome” and laughed as she told her girlfriends what she thought of the cute boy in his military uniform. The first time he saw her, he told his buddies “That’s the girl I’m gonna marry”. Almost 50 years later, my grandparents are still together, and happily married. I think I may be a sucker for a good romantic story, but hey, isn’t it alright to dream? Whenever I meet someone who has been in a relationship for a long time, I usually ask them how they met, and 9 times out of 10, it is a cute/funny/romantic story that touches my heart and makes me imagine my how I will meet the love of my life.

“I’m taking the greyhound back from school, I sit down in the first open seat, and to my surprise, there is a handsome boy sitting right next to me. Awkwardly, I try to stifle my smile, but secretly I am glowing at my good fortune. I pull out my book to read, an old faded copy of Milton’s Paradise Lost. He glances at the cover and then strikes up an interesting and long conversation on old poetry and great writers.”

*sigh* If only that were real, usually what ends up happening is I sit next to some girl who looks friendly, and won’t try and steal my purse as I try to take a nap on the cramped/smelly/too long bus ride home. And in all reality, I have found that attractive/nice boys do not, in fact, take the greyhound home.

Some days I think I have watched too many movies, cute meetings like this never happen. No more “love at first sight”. No more seeing someone across a crowded dance floor, asking her for one dance, then ending up dancing together the entire night. Where did the romance go? I guess it is not deemed necessary to romance a girl anymore, but really, it should be. Sparks should fly, butterflies should take up residence in your stomach, and that first kiss should make you faint, but leave you wanting for more. Romance may be dead, but I still hold out hope that one guy out there will win my heart with his quirky smile, and romantic gestures. I guess I will have to wait a while, good thing Paradise Lost is a long book.


A Dancefloor Apart
She looks into his eyes, and see’s her world
Her white wedding dress, their first baby girl
A little white house, with a perfect red door
Knowing her family’s all she lives for
Working all day, coming home at night
They argue, and snap, and get into a fight
But they put it aside
They tease and they chide
Drinking champagne, and toasting to life
So happy that he chose to make her his wife
Reality snaps back, and they’re a dance floor apart
And all she can feel is the beat of her heart
If only he’d walk over to her and say hi
But instead he just leaves, with a silent goodbye

Lyrical Love,
Cara

Staying a Clarisse

We’ve all seen them, those little black bars that block out certain anatomy, or those blurry images that manage to disguise, oh so well might I add, vulgur actions. But I ask you, do they really do all that good? All those black bars and blurry images do is leave things to the imagination, and from experience, the imagination can sometimes be worse than the real thing. Should we censor things? And how much is too much? I ask you this because I recently contemplated censoring the content of my blog, because I don’t want to start drama or make people uncomfortable, but in the end I decided against it. I don’t want to become a Guy Montag, burning precious knowledge (in this case my ideas) without a second thought, or a Mildred, just sitting around idly and letting my thirst for knowledge die. No, I will stay a Clarisse, and I will keep questioning, and demanding those little black bars be removed, cause really, how bad could it be underneath?
Lyrical Love,
Cara

233 Degrees Celsius

The lovely scent of gasoline
Is what I smell when I reach the scene
Crackling paper, the strike of a match
The wind whips widly at what it can't catch
Fire races and licks the walls
Picture frames crack, and smash in the halls
A huddled creature, alone in her room
Awaiting her death, they are sealing her doom
Burning, burning
But the clock keeps turning
Paper flakes drift down from the sky
A grim warning to others that knowledge must die
“It’s for your protection! It’s for your own good!”
I want to believe, I wish that I could
But the paper flakes dance, and wave me goodbye
Why must something so beautiful have to die?

A Sunday Thought

As it is sunday, I feel this is appropriate.

Rio

And he opened his arms to the world
He shouted with a deep thunderous roar
“Here I am! Here I stand”
But the earth did not move
And the skies did not stir
He stood alone

Troubles in Paradise

This post was originally labelled "No where to go" cause thats what it feels like sometimes. I have my fair share of troubles in life, and sometimes when I do something different, I get told it's the "wrong thing to do", but to who's standards? I don't mean to sound selfish, but this is my life, and I've only got one shot at it, who's standards am I gonna live by? Mine, or someone elses? I promised myself I wouldn't make this my venting place, that this blog would be dedicated to poetry and living life. But sometimes life isn't easy, so once in a while I may rant about my troubles. This trouble almost made me stop writing, 3 days in, can you imagine? But I know I need to step back and figure out where to go. When there is something blocking your path, do you go home and put on your comfy pants and eat ice cream? No. You move past it, but don't just go back to where you started, you can't change if you do that. So I'm going to keep blogging, even though my troubles are there when I look back, they are fading fast as I move forward.

Stuck in limbo

Have you ever been stuck between two places? Wanting to be apart of one world, but having to forgo another? It seems to happen to me alot, being of two racial backgrounds; half native and half English. I want to hold on to my native background because I know there are very few of us that keep the old ways alive, but then I sometimes forget I am also half English, which is just as much apart of me as my native side is. It can get tricky sometimes, and I go through periods that are sort of like an identity crisis. But when I start feeling frustrated, I try to remind myself of the little things that make me me. I am Cara, I am a Libra, I like writing poetry (a given), I like fuzzy peaches,diet pepsi, running, soccer, I HATE intolerance and crappy music, and love my family and friends more than I can describe. This helps me realize that I more than just the sum of my parts, half native half English, there are a million little characteristics that makeup who I am, and I have to give them as much thought as I do my racial background. As a Libra I should be able to handle this, since the scales are my sign, and harmony my strength, guess I have some more work to do. Anyway, the whole point of my rambling is to show you my inspiration behind a poem I wrote awhile ago, oddly enough I forgot it was entitled "Po et Tree" ... coincidence? I think not.

Po et Tree

Painted red and painted white
My heart shines brightly in the night
And keeps me going till the fiery dawn
Engulfed in flames, the stars are gone
Throwing my hands up to the blood red sky
Who is this girl who laughs and cries?
I watch the snow drift past my face
And turn in circles in a furious pace
I look at my hands, what's this color I see
And is this color, is it me?
I look in the mirror and I see a girl
Caught between a hard place and the world
It hurts my lungs, and it hurts my heart
I think I may just fall apart
I'm trapped, I'm caged
I'm full of rage
My two faces are getting the better of me
Cause my half open eyes don't really see

Welcome to my Po et Tree

I am just a simple writer, living in a small strange town. I have written poetry for many years now, and have filled notebooks with silly little verses who have taken on a life of their own. They are now demanding release from their leather bound cage, and who am I to stop them? I created this place as a safe haven for anyone wanting a change of pace, and a technicolour view on life. So here it is, my Po et Tree. Its branches long, its leaves broad, reaching out to you, giving you some shade, and providing a home to all creatures who live life lyrically.