Death of a writer

Oh writer

Why don’t you die?

Your imperfect words

Symbolizing sounds symbolizing experiences

Can’t touch me

Plain characters

Boring dialogue

Used up plots

Silenced voice

Dull settings

Makes me want to vomit

All the words you are trying to force-feed me

Why don’t you die?

You would save me lots of time

Lots of trouble

Lots of pens

Lots of ink

Lots of hard generated electricity

Running in your energy sucking computer

Stop wasting your time

And Mine

Why don’t you die?

Your mountain high ego

Annoys me

I can’t take it anymore

I’m going to blast you into little little pieces

The Earth is going to shake

Are you ready to die?


Oh stupid writer

Nothing you write is yours

No, your writing is NOT yours

The topics you write about

Are not yours but gifts from the people you’ve met

Places you’ve been

Things you’ve read or seen

Your imagination which is not yours only mixes them up

Creating mutant like monsters

Nothing is yours, writer

Your hands that write are not yours

Your body that sits crouched writing is not yours

Your mind that thinks and thinks is not yours

Your consciousness that is conscious of itself is not yours


You are the product and its creator

You are the world stupid

You are your parents and grandparents who brought you up

You are the Buddhas and the Bodhisattvas who taught you the Dharma

You are the Earth in which you were born, the mountains, the rivers, the trees and all its sentient beings

You are all your loved ones

You are all those who have made you suffer

You are the stream of manifestations of divine Love

Was I able to kill you?

No? What?

Die writer, die!

Truth is that only by dying you become Alive

So fear not and Die

Let go of your shitty writing

And Die for your own personal Salvation

Just let yourself go and d..

Poem: Connecting Your Heart (Part I)

Part I

As I sit writing this poem,

The chair made by a worker machine supports my weight.

My feet touches the ground and it supports me.

Burning coal factories fire the electricity to the lamp above.

This air I breathe in and out is shared among all.

The water I need flows through all, unevenly.

These clothes I wear were made by factory workers from all around the world,

Most likely trapped in low wage work in order to survive this hierarchical world.

An organized, globalized world, fueled by desires for wealth, fame and power.

Projected through the lens of a prescribed system often called capitalism.


An abstract system that categorizes and divides real life according to

So called laws of demand and supply,

Shareholder value,

Price and other fancy names that express no meaning at all,

For they are all empty.


Empty of its own inherent existence,

Empty from the only thing that makes them real,


Poem Earth Mother

Part I: Mother’s Suffering

To those who are fortunate enough to have been raised by a loving mother,

We learn that when our mothers suffer,

us children suffer.


When our mothers cry in physical pain,

us children wish that this pain was ours.

For she brought us into this world,

burdening herself with immeasurable pain,



Our mothers love us,

and we wish to re-pay this infinite given love,

back into their emptied hearts.

We wish the best for our mothers.


Dear brothers and sisters,

Above our beloved mothers.

lies the Earth Mother,

Sick and Crying.

She cries because of the suffering that us children have caused her.

Sickly, she still attempts to feed us,

nurture us with love,

whisper us the secret path to eternal happiness.

Yet most of us consider ourselves ‘too busy’ to listen to her sweet voice,

too important to care about these little things of life;

for we believe that what is crucial is to make a living,

not live the life that was given to us.


She cries and cries.

Her sweet river tears flow on to become salty.

The same salt that stings our wounded feet at the beach,

and cleanses it.

She cries cold and frozen tears atop the mountains,

yet we melt them away

because our bitter hearts have allowed the spread of an evil fire.

A system that consumes and consumes

Everything that our five senses can capture.


ps. I will be posting five more parts of this poem over time. All together this poem explores the suffering of the Earth Mother and the relationships between different elements following Wu Xing theory and Taoism. Thank you for reading! More will follow…