all people start to
come apart finally
and there it is:
just empty ashtrays in a room
or wisps of hair on a comb
in the dissolving moonlight.
Mots clés quote fire poems through through-the-looking-glass charles-bukowski quotesfire
it is all ash
and dry leaves
and grief gone
like an ocean liner.
all theories
like cliches
shot to hell,
all these small faces
looking up
beautiful and believing;
I wish to weep
but sorrow is
stupid.
I wish to believe but believe is a
graveyard.
we have narrowed it down to
the butcherknife and the
mockingbird
wish us
luck.
Mots clés poem quote fire luck charles-bukowski
you fall into the mirror,
come through the other
side
staring at a lightbulb.
Mots clés charles-bukowski
and the color in my eyes
has gone back into the sea.
Mots clés charles-bukowski
the whole world is caught in her glance
and at last
the universe is
magnificent.
Mots clés charles-bukowski
a pro does as well as he can within what
he has set out to do
and a madman
does exceptionally well at what
he can't help
doing.
Mots clés charles-bukowski
R.O.TC. kept me away from sports while the other guys practiced every day. They made the school teams, won their letters and got the girls. My days were spent mostly marching around in the sun. All you ever saw were the backs of some guy's ears and his buttocks. I quickly became disenchanted with military proceedings. The others shined their shoes brightly and seemed to go through maneuvers with relish. I couldn't see any sense in it. They were just getting shaped up in order to get their balls blown off later. On the other hand, I couldn't see myself crouched down in a football helmet, shoulder pads laced on, decked out in Blue and White, #69, trying to move out some brute with tacos on his breath so that the son of the district attorney could slant off left tackle for six yards. The problem was you had to keep choosing between on evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little bit more off you, until there was nothing left. At the age of 25, most people were finished. A whole god-damned 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 BukowskiI had no interests. I had no interests in anything. I had no idea how I was going to escape. At least the others had some taste for life. They seemed to understand something that I didn't understand. Maybe I was lacking. It was possible. I often felt inferior. I just wanted to get away from them. But there was no place to go. Suicide? Jesus Christ, just more work. I felt like sleeping for five years but they wouldn't let me.
Charles BukowskiWas I the only person who was distracted by this future without a chance?
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