Who needs real life friends,
With online chess,
Stocked full of liquor,
Bowls full of herb,
Billie spinning on the player
And smokes till dawn,
Loneliness has never been easier.
Who needs real life friends,
With online chess,
Stocked full of liquor,
Bowls full of herb,
Billie spinning on the player
And smokes till dawn,
Loneliness has never been easier.
I’ve been thinking a lot of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave recently.
Imagine prisoners tide up side by side in darkness placed in front of a blank stone wall. The prisoners can turn their heads nor move so that they can’t see one another. Behind them there is a fire and the captors have people walking in front of the fire with puppets so that it casts a shadow upon the wall the prisoners stare at. Any sounds and talk, these prisoners believe come from the shadows in the wall. This is the reality they live in and they have no knowledge of people or the captors behind them.
One day they are set free and have to crawl through a narrow tunnel to an opening into the outer world. When first reaching the outside they see the light of the sun and it’s blaring and painful because they’ve only known darkness their whole life. It hurts their eyes and burn their skin, so they retreat back into the comfort of their darkness into the only reality they’ve known their whole life, not understanding it’s been an illusion.
However a few realize there is something more outside and decide to go back into the light. Over time their eyes adjust and the sun feels good. They realize in that moment that the shadows they thought were real were only replications of what is real under the sun while some stay in the darkness, those who go outside can finally live free.
What I believe is the reality can hurt when you live in the comfort of illusion for so long, but eventually the light of reality is the only way to live a life beautiful and free.
I picture Mother Earth
Smiling at peace,
With all her strong and robust human babies at ease,
As her fur and feather babies
could finally set back into their long forgotten homes,
Playing and feasting
on her sustenance as they please,
Her lungs clear of wheezin’,
The breeze clear of poison,
Her eyes closed this season,
Repairing, repairing,
As the human babies sit humbly wait in’.
Hear her voice?
“Go to sleep dear children,
You’ve been driving, and working,
Tromping and rampaging,
Going and going,
But be still a moment,
And let me get to my sleep in’,
Catch my breath, but believe me,
Cuz I’ve been giving you all that I have,
And my bones so tired,
And my heart so heavy,
And my mind so foggy,
I just need a minute,
Before you can come back to play.”
Dahhee
As a teen, I used to stare out my window and watch the few people walk by with a dog, a child, or just by themselves.
Sometimes I’d catch a flower of the Jacaranda tree float down almost magically placing itself amongst the trodden browned blooms stuck to the cement.
And if a walker stepped on it, my heart would break just a little that such a perfect bloom would become just like the rest, once beautiful and light now smeared with sticky sap turning brown, just like the rest.
Once I saw my best friend walking past with my other friend. They walked passed and didn’t stop to ask me out or say hi.
I felt nothing. A little relieved that I didn’t have to leave my place watching the world both still and alive.
I always knew I could fly,
Dreaming it since I was wee high,
But even in dreams
I felt a little slight
When I took flight
Feeling so light
I didn’t fear the fall,
But reaching heights so high,
I’d never come down,
But rather float off beyond stars.
I Had to wake up and grow roots,
Make roots in firm ground,
Stopped dreaming of moons,
And live free though earth bound
Making live sounds,
Walking tall mounds,
Rebound and rebound,
Until I found home
And came home.
In control of my power
I Bloom like a flower,
And roam Like fluff seeds
In need of a breeze
Out of dreams and into reality,
Soaring like bees
Awake and aware
In my power
Soaring higher
Then I ever could dream.
Like Butta but Betta
The struggle lifted,
Emotions elevated,
Moods shifted,
Life celebrated,
Love exhibited,
Heart calibrated,
Peace uninhibited,
Chaos evacuated,
No longer incubated.
Little Clary asks, “what does the word God mean?”
And I think, “hmmm well he’s the word of creation, the one who created everything.”
“But he’s not real right,” questions, “because I can’t see him?”
“Well he means to have faith. You can’t see God because it takes faith, like love, you can’t see love but you feel love right?”
“Why did God make you so warm? I can’t see you warm but I can feel you warm.”
And he speaks poetry to me in every word he says.
“Yes baby, it’s like feeling warm.”
I fell a hundred times
Face planting into concrete and mud,
Painted scars making lines of red like markers from my cuts
Dripping down to the ground.
Bruised but not broken,
I got up to rise in the path I chose,
Walking off the path most trampled on.
A hundred times trying to step away,
To run back to my spirit screaming “come back!,”
A hundred times returning to where I belong,
Cuz the voice of my heart
Shouts so loud my mind can’t hide
From the call to be free from the confines of the normal kind
Of a life which could have been more safe and sound,
But happiness only in step on a road less traveled.
A hundred times
Shaking doubt and tired pursuit,
To live the life I can’t deny,
Because I was born this way
To rise above what was taught to those in my time.
We plant the seeds for our future,
Everything falling into place,
To grow bigger than the baobab,
And harder than diamonds.
We came together as seeds,
Fell right beside each other,
Growing taller than redwoods,
And harder than Visionaries
Who fell for their dreams,
So we can build the love we sense,
Into concrete beams
Taller than the tallest
Skyscraper a man can evince.