Half Baked Poetree

And what is a poem, I ask?
A bunch of words
shuffled to scream?
It can moan and groan if I want to,
I can peel and seal,
sing and dance with letters and words,
I can jump to space and climb on Jupiter,
No even NASA couldn't do that! But hell I can,
my quill will and on my will it shall.

I can visit heaven and hell, if there is any,
can create my own if none exists,
I can become a bird, a flower and even the sun,
I can stop the poem and dirty it,
mess it that no one finds it poetic,
I can do what I want and even if that isn't enough,
what more is there to do? I am god, on this blog atleast!

I can make love to Buddha, but he doesn't desire me,
I can take Christ off his crucifix, free him of his pain,
I can do tandav with Shiva and braid his dreds,
I can strip cotton off Milarepa and even his black magic cannot stop me,
I can dig Kerouac from his grave and make him kiss me,
I can do what I want, what can I not, tell me?

So, the power of writing shall rule the world,
as long as humans live.
Now a tiger cannot write can he?
Well a tigress can, this is her poetry!