"If I don't write to empty my mind I go mad" - Lord Byron, 'I've just had eighteen straight whiskeys. I think that's the record.' - Dylan Thomas, “I dip my pen in the blackest ink because I'm not afraid of falling into my inkpot.” Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Let the world burn through you. Throw the prism light white hot - on paper.” - Ray Bradbury, It. Will. Out., There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed., Write, Write me real pretty, Writing, You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.- Ray Bradbury
This poem makes me laugh, he was bob on, oh to escape the procrastinator, but it is also true as he says that creation batters its way out of us quite brutally when it wants to, you never know quite what you’ll end up with, but you do know it needs feeding and by the Gods of all sizes . . . it, will, out**
Air and Light and Time and Space by Charles Bukowski
‘- you know, I’ve either had a family, a job, something
has always been in the
I’ve sold my house, I’ve found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
for the first time in my life I’m going to have a place and
the time to
no baby, if you’re going to create
you’re going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you’re on
you’re going to create with part of your mind and your
you’re going to create blind
you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your
the whole city trembles in earthquakes, bombardment,
flood and fire.
baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don’t create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
**The following is from one of Esme’s collection on this very theme (just the end of the poem)
This is writing.
This is acting.
This is painting.
This is living creation that tears you apart.
It’s a purge and a joy within us that shouts
And, much like Lady Macbeth’s bloodied hands . . . it, will, out.