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Charles Bukowski - Blog Posts
“Too often, the only escape is sleep.”
— Charles Bukowski
Don’t fight your demons. Your demons are here to teach you lessons. Sit down with your demons and have a drink and a chat and learn their names and talk about the burns on their fingers and scratches on their ankles. Some of them are very nice
Charles Bukowski
I wish I had a heart to give to someone like you.
Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last: New Poems
Charles Bukowski, Tales of Ordinary Madness
-Charles Bukowski, Love Is a Dog from Hell
I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.
Charles Bukowski, Love is a dog from hell
- Charles Bukowski - Raw with love
Charles Bukowski, "legs, hips and behind," from What Matters Most is How Well You Walk through the Fire
-Charles Bukowski, "cancer," from Come On In!
"We don't even ask for happiness, just a little less pain."
Charles Bukowski
"People empty me. I have to get away to refill."
Charles Bukowski
I don’t know where to go...
F. Scott Fitzgerald // Charles Bukowski
“Too often, the only escape is sleep.”
— Charles Bukowski
“When you left you took almost everything. I kneel in the nights before tigers that will not let me be.”
— Charles Bukowski
Yalnız mısın?”
“Evet.”
“Kimse yok mu?”
“Kimse. İnsanlara tahammülüm yok, biliyorsun.”
Charles Bukowski
Mi sento male perchè sento di non viverle,
queste cazzo di giornate.
Sento che le faccio passare,
che faccio scorrere il tempo senza usarlo,
senza prenderlo per il culo e magari
farmi quattro risate e basta.
Non sto vivendo,
io sto solo passando.
– Charles Bukowski ( ohsngw )
Acho que a multidão, aquela multidão, a Humanidade, que sempre foi difícil pra mim, aquela multidão está ganhando, afinal. Acho que o grande problema é que tudo é uma performance repetida pra eles. Não há novidade neles. Nem mesmo o menor dos milagres. Apenas se arrastam sobre mim. Se, um dia, eu pudesse ver UMA pessoa fazendo ou dizendo algo incomum me ajudaria a seguir em frente. Mas são rançosos, bolorentos. Não há emoção. Olhos, ouvidos, pernas, vozes, mas... nada. Congelam-se dentro de si mesmos, se enganam, fingindo que estão vivos.
- Charles Bukowski (O Capitão saiu para o Almoço e os Marinheiros Tomaram Conta do Navio)
Charles Bukowski, "young men," from What Matters Most is How Well You Walk through the Fire
Creativity
You know, I’ve either had a family, a job,
something has always been in the way
but now
I’ve sold my house, I’ve found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and the light.
for the first time in my life I’m going to have a place and the time to create.”
no baby, if you’re going to create
you’re going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you’re on welfare,
you’re going to create with part of your mind and your body blown away,
you’re going to create blind,
crippled
demented,
you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your back while the whole city trembles in earthquake, 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
new excuses for.
~Charles Bukowski
"So Now?"
the words have come and gone,
I sit ill.
the phone rings, the cats sleep.
Linda vacuums.
I am waiting to live,
waiting to die.
I wish I could ring in some bravery.
it's a lousy fix
but the tree outside doesn't know:
I watch it moving with the wind
in the late afternoon sun.
there's nothing to declare here,
just a waiting.
each faces it alone.
Oh, I was once young,
Oh, I was once unbelievably young!
~Charles Bukowski
"The Sparrow in my Head"
There is a little sparrow in my head that likes to cause a mess.
It distracts me with its shrill screeching
that bounces against and vibrates my skull.
It flaps its tiny wings and causes a flurry in my head, like a feral hurricane.
It drills against my brain and causes pulsing migraines
and sometimes it nips at my eyeballs.
There is a little sparrow in my head
Shackled and caged behind bars of steel.
It is bruised,broken and battered
And its wings are clipped.
To set it free somebody will have to crack open my skull.
"It's not fair", cries the sparrow.
"Oh but it is fair", I reply,
"Just like, a head for a head,
a tail for a tail,
an eye for an eye,
and your freedom for mine."
The little sparrow gives a sad chirp and droops its wee head.
"Do not despair, little bird", I consol,
"One day you'll be able to fly,
high above, higher than the sky.
For just like in the circle of life,
the day your life begins,
is the day mine ends.
So chin up and wait some more,
just a little more time."
There is a little sparrow in my head that weeps tears of patience.
There is nothing else it can do.
~Me
*Inspired by Bluebird by Charles Bukowski*