How a man becomes a Poet.

Poetic artistry. How does a man know when he’s become one who possesses the gift of cosmic rhythm?

Now understand, there’s many types of poetry.

Try not to think poetry is for girls and you’re too fucking manly man for poetry.

To be simple, it can be categorized into 4 sections.

1. Poetry with body
2. Poetry with spoken word
3. Poetry with writing 
4. Poetry with sculpting/painting/drawing

Some individuals can create poetry along all 4 sectors. Some individuals actually blend 2-3 sections to create poetry in movies or stage presentations. Some even use all 4 sectors to build houses of great warmth and love. 

Ultimately, when one becomes a poet, they possess the gift of cosmic rhythm. A type of rhythm that is not of this physical realm. It’s one from the realm of soul.

Of the 4 categories, a poet can move his body in this cosmic rhythm, speak with this cosmic rhythm, write with this cosmic rhythm or create art which shows this cosmic rhythm.

In all that I’ve just mentioned, when an individual creates from this cosmic rhythm, the goal of it all is to just make you FEEL.

To feel feelings in which society said that you can’t feel.

We all have those inner pockets of our hearts in which we choose not to expose.

We either don’t want to face deep sadness or love, or, we’re too embarrassed to let anyone see us in our emotional states.

It doesn’t matter how much you may not want to face these feelings. When an individual encounters poetry, their heart will have no choice but to respond.

Now poses the question… How does one become a poet?

To this I’ve searched. 

In many categories.

Many cultures all over the world.

Right down to the very spot in which I stand.

A man becomes a poet when he SUFFERS IMMENSELY.

Whether he suffers because he loves deeply, or he suffers because his dreams are intense and vivid, one becomes a poet because of the suffering from within.

When this inner suffering takes place, it squeezes the individuals soul greatly. So much so that the blood gets drained out to its last drop.

Then, when the blood from the heart is gone and the heart lays shriveled and pruned, the suffering squeezes the heart even tighter. At this point the suffering is stomping at the heart, trying to get every last ounce of air and water that is left.

But the suffering doesn’t stop there. As it does its diabolical deeds on the heart, it turns itself over to the body. It rattles the bones. It rattles it so much that the muscles have no choice but to shake and cramp. All of these feelings. The suffering doesn’t care. It wants blood, bones, muscles and sanity.

Till the very last drop.

Then, once the individual is squeezed of everything, and I mean every fucking thing, the inner suffering thinks it has won. Yet….

Once an individuals mind and body is totally drained of what it was, the heart drained, flattened and ripped wide open.

That is when the cosmic pixie dust flutters itself from out of the heart.

As it makes its exit, all the cosmic feelings bound within the heart from the universe come gushing out with extreme speed.

It rapidly fills the heart back up to its natural size.

This cosmic rhythm then gives a mighty jolt to the weakend bones and tired muscles.

This cosmic rhythm that was stored deep within the heart, it pushes its way out and nothing can stop it. Its cosmic beauty is too immense to contain.

This is when words of honey drip from the lips.

Words of electricity get written by the hand.

Movements of fire & intensity get displayed through dance.

Powerful works of art come through to a limp sculpture and a blank canvas.

Suffering creates poets.

The suffering you feel now is guiding you to become the artist, the poet, the dancer, the speaker, the writer.

I love you my friend.

Please hold on.

Once your heart cracks, I promise you, the beauty that flows will be one that heals.

Just always remember…

TRAIN HARD & BE KIND.