The poem below is by Charles Bukowski. Sometimes when I read his stuff, I am convinced he is an old, washed-up, skateboarder. But then I remember. He is just someone who understands pure, unadulterated, passion. And of course, you cannot be an old, washed-up skateboarder without that. He speaks our language. Or rather, those who “keep chopping” all speak the same tongue.
the creative act
for the broken egg on the floor
for the 5th of july
for the fish in the tank
for the old man in room 9
for the cat on the fence
for yourself
not for fame
not for money
you’ve got to keep chopping
as you get older
the glamour recedes
it’s easier when you are young
anybody can rise to the
heights now and then
the buzzword is
consistency
anything that keeps it
going
this life dancing in front of
Mrs. Death
