The Poet & The Writing
One of the new prosers here loves to get likes and comments etc. I loveee that too! But I don't force it on people, and most importantly, I'm here to write, not become a celebrity! I would not like to post my reaction whenever someone does something I don't like, because simply whether I like their work or not I just keep it to myself, but this is not about work that I like or dislike. But this guy honestly getting on my nerve, he just tagged me like 2 or 3 times in the same post! He tagged me once and I ignored because he keep doing this ever since he joined prose, he would tag people and then remove the tag after they notice his post and like and repost it. So, he tagged me first time I didn't give him the like, so he tagged me again and again. And I'm sure he does the same with everybody because I been watching him and I noticed that he tagged tons of prosers and after he got the likes and comments and all the good stuff he removed the tag, to make it look natural. I mean, wtf! This is a place to express your sorrow or happiness or whatever you FEEL! not a fucking filthy, political place where you do whatever it takes to get numbers. And I don't want everybody to take it personal, I'm not against tagging, tag was made to tag, in fact, I appreciate so much when someone tags me, but not like that! Once equals tons. Not over and over till you get the fucking like! You made me do what I never though I ever would, which is this post, but you need to wake up and understand that we are honest people here, we might compliment each other, support each other, but we do not fool each other, we do not like filthy games. We're here to express not to impress. I'm really curious how do you get the muse to write if you have this kind of mentality. But let me share with you all this poem by bukowski, one of the most honest and respected poets. And maybe if my shitty words doesn't make sense his poem will do.
so you want to be a writer?
Charles Bukowski, 1920 - 1994
if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it for money or
fame,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don’t do it.
if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,
don’t do it.
if you’re trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you’re not ready.
don’t be like so many writers,
don’t be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don’t be dull and boring and
pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don’t add to that.
don’t do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don’t do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don’t do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.