that your power of command
with simple language was
one of the magnificent things of
our century.
(from the poem: result)
Mots clés poetry power language speech bukowski command war-all-the-time
some moments are nice, some are
nicer, some are even worth
writing
about.
Mots clés love poetry writing moments bukowski nice war-all-the-time
when the phone rings
I too would like to hear words
that might ease
some of this.
Mots clés 462-0614
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.
The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little more off you, until there was nothing left. At the age of 25 most people were finished. A whole goddamned nation of assholes driving automobiles, eating, having babies, doing everything in the worst way possible, like voting for the presidential candidate who reminded them most of themselves.
Charles BukowskiWriting is something that you don't know how to do. You sit down and it's something that happens, or it may not happen. So, how can you teach anybody how to write? It's beyond me, because you yourself don't even know if you're going to be able to. I'm always worried, well, you know, every time I go upstairs with my wine bottle. Sometimes I'll sit at that typewriter for fifteen minutes, you know. I don't go up there to write. The typewriter's up there. If it doesn't start moving, I say, well this could be the night that I hit the dust.
Charles BukowskiMots clés fear writing inspiration writer-s-block
they pulled Ezra through the streets in a wooden cage. Blake was sure of God. Villon was a mugger. Lorca sucked cock. T. S. Eliot worked a teller's cage
Charles BukowskiI carry death in my left pocket. Sometimes I take it out and talk to it: "Hello, baby, how you doing? When you coming for me? I'll be ready.
Charles BukowskiMots clés death
and our few good times will be rare because we have the critical sense
and are not easy to fool with laughter
Mots clés happiness laughter critical bliss good-times
nothing can save
you
except
writing.
it keeps the walls
from
failing.
Mots clés writing
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