(untitled) -- a collection of experimental poetry [COMPLETE]

golden Buddha skin

the difference between
the poet
and the non-poet

is that one of them
decided to pick up a pen
and just
try
(and keep trying
and trying
and trying)

we're all born
as artists,
we are all born
with golden Buddha skin
but as life goes on
we bury ourselves
under layers and
layers of dirt
because it's easier
that way

'no,
i'm not cut out
to be this or that or those

it's best i never try,'

your mind,

that is the only thing
that ever gets in the way

poverty?
death?
disease?

no.

there are authors out there,
whose notebooks were burnt
into tiny bits of charcoal
only for their lettered phoenix
to arise again from memory
(manuscripts do not burn)

Hemingway roamed Paris starving,
Wilde roamed Paris broken and drunk
Lovecraft and Poe

Van Gogh
sold one painting in his life
but he painted two thousand one hundred,
and,
consumed by pain and sadness
as he was
when he painted,
he felt joy

there is nothing that you cannot achieve
you can be anything
absolutely anything
as long as you just try
(and keep trying
and trying and trying --
until the earth trembles
with each word you type
and the Milky Way spins
to the motion of your
paintbrush
and your eyes glow with starlight
and your mind radiates
dreams!)

those that rediscover
their golden buddha skin
hidden under layers of
accumulated dirt --

such demiurges
are a terrifying force
capable of crushing stars
with their hands.