written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Showing posts with label Cerridwen Lee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cerridwen Lee. Show all posts

Tuesday, 29 October 2013

Utopia.


I never took much interest in politics until the last few years. The mysteries of the world didn’t appeal to me as I was enthralled with the worlds I could create in my head. You could seethe about the ignorance of this, the fact I was a writer and yet had no real knowledge of what happened beyond the four walls of my bedroom. That changed though. It had to eventually. The phrase “ignorance is bliss” had never made more sense to me than in the last few years and particularly in the current state of our political world. I didn’t suddenly decide to engage in the affairs of our world (past and present) on a whim, of course it takes far more than a whim to kick a teenager up the arse and motivate them.

Studying Shakespeare’s ‘Measure for Measure’ at A level was what kicked me up the arse. It is, succinctly, a play criticising King James 1sts ruling, the puritan beliefs that dominated at the time it was written (1603-04), the way the lower classes were controlled, the presentation of marriage and lots more but the way the society in the play was presented as being engineered by a corrupt ruler and a set of beliefs swaying how we live and stringently behave actually frightened and disturbed me. I had always loved literature, but that play started my passionate exploration into texts old and modern, which then started my interests in philosophy, history, religion, politics and psychology. It was then that I realised, to be quite frank, how fucked our modern world is everywhere and not just in this country.

Recently I’ve been reading Thomas More’s ‘Utopia’ which nicely coincides for this blog. A lot of the ways in which this fictional island work I agree with.  For example, and this will come as no surprise to those who know me, their treatment of the natural land is with preference to cultivate instead of exploit. They reap the full potential of what the earth provides without destroying it. Their society works with no particular hierarchy; all Utopians work and wear simple clothing of undyed wool or linen over practical working clothes. There is no need for individual display. Nothing is private; the Utopians have evaded private interest and civil law. Money does not exist. The Utopians have an intense but healthy appetite for knowledge with lectures lasting throughout the day with a heavy focus on Greek studies. There are slaves in Utopia, but their slavery is imposed as a crime not inherited. Foreigners, or prisoners of war, also become slaves often willingly as it is better than to be subject to poverty which would be the alternative. This is a penal system that rehabilitates prisoners rather than merely provides a labour force. When Utopians population rises, they establish colonies on the mainland wherever there is unused or neglected land.

These are all wonderful ideas, and portray my own ideas of a perfect society but what it doesn’t do is consider the raw ugliness of human nature. Ownership and greed has always streaked through human nature like the skid marks on a toilet. Property and cash has nearly always been a problem. So has the fact that those two aspects are only consistent for a select group of people in society. The penal system, religion, clothing, education have always been at the mercy of that select group in society.

Perhaps, instead of taking the political ideas of “Utopia” and questioning its ability to function in our real society and likewise with other political ideas such as communism, we should instead ask what the hell is wrong with ours and why (maybe not for us all) Utopia seems so glories, and so out of reach. Dreams tie hand in hand with politics. The changes, good or bad, within society start with a dream. My dream is to live in a world where you don’t have to pay disgusting amounts to be educated (and I want to me a teacher) or to be fed or to have shelter or to receive healthcare, where the forests and oceans still flourish and stand in all their glory, where a hierarchy doesn’t set a cruel status quo, clothes don’t determine who we are, the media doesn’t manipulate how we receive the news of the world, music and art and literature are as necessary as breathing,  people don’t kill each other over theory and fancy…. And ice-cream should be 100% completely free.

Tuesday, 20 November 2012

Proud

04:44:00 Posted by Ashley Lister , , , 1 comment

 by Cerridwen Lee

 What am I proud of? Well, I suppose over my few but tempestuous 18 years it would be a matter of what I’m grateful for and have become proud of. The small things I guess. I’m grateful for the small cluster of woodland five minutes from my door where I can sit in peace by the little fairy pool I’m fond of, or kick the crap out of the fallen heap of leaves on the ground in sudden regression to my much younger years. I’m grateful for the scattering of vibrant twinkling stars above my head in an inky sky on a crystal clear winter’s night and for my obscure mind that creates the weird imaginings of what happens up there making me forget momentarily that I can’t remember what it feels like to have a nose.

I’m grateful for my strange family, and the sacred tradition that if we have pancakes they MUST NOT be made in regular pancake batter colour, and either are eaten in the vibrant colours of snot green, powder blue, hot pink or lemon yellow. I’m grateful for the fat ginger kittens that waddle around my small bungalow home, occasionally darting up the heavy rust orange curtains and dangle precariously at the top. I’m grateful for all the wonderful and sometimes bloody mind-boggling words in the English language that help me to weave my poetry that makes me feel better about the few arses that I unfortunately encounter on a day-to-day basis.

I suppose the list could go on forever and the more I give you of it the more bored you readers may become and even worse, the more insight you may get into my somewhat unusual life. But I am proud of all those little things. They make life worth living.

Tuesday, 13 November 2012

Ambition

00:00:00 Posted by Ashley Lister , 3 comments

 by Cerridwen Lee

 Life is too short to ponder on things that may or may not have happened in different circumstances. It's certainly too short to analyse and speculate on a situation from every single angle. Sometimes we have to close our eyes and just feel what is happening in the present, because that's what humans do best and it makes us feel exactly that; human. Emotion rules; often this is the case particularly within the poet, and it’s exhausting. Within this world that worships flesh, there isn’t much of a choice as to whether we are a part of the game. We play no important part in this game of consequence. We all want to be heard, but no-one wants to listen. We are specks of dust in the universe. Yet, even so, what drives us to continue? What makes us continue to read the rules, in order to go against them?

I apologise for that depressing paragraph and its dark thoughts but it does lead me to this week’s theme. Ambition is something I believe to be incredibly important to the human being, yet something we hardly think about, because it is so innate. We are human, no matter how small, and we dream. We are all dreamers. Dreamers who sit back gazing blankly at a blurry chattering coloured screen, or at the silver and sapphire ocean weaving in and out of the shore, or at a crowd of bustling people on a city street, longing to be elsewhere doing other things. It starts with the dream, and it is fired by ambition. I believe that for writers and poets ambition is particularly crucial. We are both inspired and inspiring, and without our work what would this world be?

Tuesday, 6 November 2012

The Fairy Pool

00:00:00 Posted by Ashley Lister , , , 2 comments

 by Cerridwen Lee 

 This week’s theme is “Inspirational Ideas” Of course this got me thinking about what inspires mankind. The power of literature, music, art is an obvious one. They are ever-changing, influential and prominent in all cultures around the world and express the emotions that make up the complex human being. Politics is another. The elections in America are causing chaos at the moment. Politics has always been quick to bring me to anger, however, so I wouldn’t call it inspiring for me personally.
I’m going to get down to my real point. Although such things as art and politics are popular choices for inspiration, I’ve always looked towards mankind itself for inspiration. The human race are such curious creatures, and I’ve always been fascinated and horrified by our actions. Many history and psychology books adorn my shelves, accompanied by thick old books of mythology and legends from an array of different cultures. The human mind is incredible, and it is shown for me in not just our actions, but through the things we dream up such as myths and legends and the unseen things we fancy creep in the shadows. Our fascination with the unseen inspires me. I mean, you have got to have a few questions unanswered, don’t you?
This brings me swiftly onto the poem I wrote the other week. I was inspired by a little pool in my local woodland that is tucked away into the depths, hidden by a fallen oak and two large willow trees. I found it two years ago on one of my nature rambles, and regularly visit, perched upon the fallen oak tree gazing at it. There is something mystical about this pond, which led me to call it  “the fairy pool” I can imagine them sitting by it, as I do, singing and playing music that gets lost in the cold winter winds whistling through the trees. Fairies, or the fey folk, can be viewed in many differing ways; cute and small, sat on a buttercup or dancing delicately round a mushroom ring. I view them in an open-minded respectful manner. If they were to exist, I believe they’d be more a part of the earth itself and have been since it began. Inspired by them and the nature around me that day, I began to think of mankind’s wrongs. This poem is a “Rondeau”, an old French lyric form I have been experimenting with.


The Fairy Pool – RONDEAU

The fairy pool lays perilous and deep
Where the fey folk both chance to dance and weep
Hidden, sunk, dark within the woodlands rule
Dare to venture in and you are a fool
You may become victim to those that creep

The silver waters swell, ripple and seep
Into the rich soil that the fey folk reap
With not so much help as one metal tool
The Fairy Pool

In modern world magic they strive to keep
Avoiding these humans that are so cheap
Disillusion and a streak of sharp cruel
Mankind care for nothing but moneys fuel
Corruption still building, poisonous world
The Fairy Pool

Tuesday, 30 October 2012

Lunacy

00:00:00 Posted by Ashley Lister , , 1 comment

 by Cerridwen Lee

 Sylvia Plath once said, “This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary.”  She was describing the night’s lantern; the mysterious force that has created myths and legends, many a pagan deity, curiosity, worship and fear spanning… well… since mankind first set foot on this peculiar little world.

The moon has caused delight and fright in the scientists and the romantics of the world for as long as it has glimmered up there in the night’s starry sky. It had been said to govern the creatures that slink in the shadows it casts. I am sure everyone is familiar with vampirism and lycanthropy. Those myths still haunt the pages of modern books and minds. The moon, when full, is said to cause strange moods in people who otherwise are entirely normal, hence the term lunacy.

 In Blackpool where the street lamps, fireworks and the bellowing garbled cries of drunkards fill the air the moon may be all but forgotten. However, I heed a fair warning. With Halloween approaching, and a full moon hovering above you on the 29th, even Blackpool may not be immune to the powerful beams of the night’s ruler and the goings on that it watches. Ponder with me on what cannot be explained. What does happen within the shade of night?

Lunacy

Ponder with me on what cannot be explained,
Governed by the full veracious moon’s light,
What does happen within the shade of night?

What power can it have in its beautiful silver gleam?
When it turns full, what chaos does it invite?
Ponder with me on what cannot be explained.

Mystery rises from its ghostly round dream,
Reflected upon the trickling stream, glittering white,
What does happen within the shade of night?

The sun hands its power to a ghostly ash grey beam,
Giving merriment to the dancing woodland sprite,
Ponder with me on what cannot be explained.

Lunacy they call it when sanity loses its scheme,
Now what is it with the moon’s fullness that makes us want to bite?
What does happen within the shade of night?

What with all the myths and legends that have been?
That after all these years gives us a tingling fright.
Ponder with me on what cannot be explained
What does happen within the shade of night?