My flesh looked like it wasn't trying. It looked like it hated being part of me.

Charles Bukowski

Mots clés ugly

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Existence was not only absurd, it was plain hard work. Think of how many times you put on your underwear in a lifetime. It was appalling, it was disgusting, it was stupid.

Charles Bukowski

Mots clés existence realism

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I looked around for a fly to kill

Charles Bukowski

Mots clés humor

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Hell, I'd even failed with women. Three wives. Nothing really wrong each time. It all got destroyed by petty bickering. Railing about nothing. Getting pissed-off over anything and everything. Day by day, year by year, grinding. Instead of helping each other you just sliced away, picked at this or that. Goading. Endless goading. It became a cheap contest. And once you got into it, it became habitual. You couldn't seem to get out. You almost didn't want to get out. And then you did get out. All the way.

Charles Bukowski

Mots clés marriage divorce realism

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I needed a vacation. I needed 5 women. I needed to get the wax out of my ears. My car needed an oil change. I'd failed to file my damned income tax. One of the stems had broken off of my reading glasses. There were ants in my apartment. I needed to get my teeth cleaned. My shoes were run down at the heels. I had insomnia. My auto insurance had expired. I cut myself every time i shaved. I hadn't laughed in 6 years. I tended to worry when there was nothing to worry about. And when there was something to worry about, i got drunk.

Charles Bukowski

Mots clés life drinking to-do-list

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I've learned to feel good when
I feel good.
it's better to be driven around in a red porsche
than to own
one. the luck of the fool is
inviolate.

Charles Bukowski

Mots clés luck

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it's so easy to be a poet
and so hard to be
a man.

Charles Bukowski

Mots clés poetry

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meat is cut as roses are cut
men die as dogs die
love dies like dogs die,
he said.

Charles Bukowski

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hate contains truth. beauty is a facade.

Charles Bukowski

Mots clés truth beauty hate

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for me
obedience to another is the decay of self.

for though every being is similar
each being is different

and to herd our differences
under one law
degrades each self.

Charles Bukowski

Mots clés individuality

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