No title by Charles Bukowski

all theories
like clichés
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 belief is a
graveyard.
we have narrowed it down to
the butcherknife and the
mockingbird.
wish us
luck.

Bluebird - Charles Bukowski

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?

The Crunch (bukouski)

too much too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody.

laughter or
tears

haters
lovers

strangers with faces like
the backs of
thumb tacks

armies running through
streets of blood
waving winebottles
bayoneting and fucking
virgins.

an old guy in a cheap room
with a photograph of M. Monroe.

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other
one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.

our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners

it hasn't told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.

or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone

untouched
unspoken to

watering a plant.

people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.

I suppose they never will be.
I don't ask them to be.

but sometimes I think about
it.

the beads will swing
the clouds will cloud
and the killer will behead the child
like taking a bite out of an ice cream cone.

too much
too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody

more haters than lovers.

people are not good to each other.
perhaps if they were
our deaths would not be so sad.

meanwhile I look at young girls
stems
flowers of chance.

there must be a way.

surely there must be a way that we have not yet
though of.

who put this brain inside of me?

it cries
it demands
it says that there is a chance.

it will not say
"no."

Wednesday, January 20, 2010 at 5:49pm

Hoy termine con todo lo que tenia que terminar y dependía de mi, como siempre. Camine un rato de vuelta con Hendrix que cuenta como siente en colores y muchas veces puedo decir lo mismo. Camino entre los nichos frescos y debajo de los arboles llenos de voodoo y de escrituras y cintas. Veo el sol y camino entre la gente, nadie sabe y a nadie le interesa. Llego a mi casa me saco la ropa y me pongo a hablar con la gente que me importa sin olvidarme de dos cosas. Que nadie sabe ni a nadie le interesa y que, eventualmente, a castillos de arena se los lleva el mar. Solo queda sumirse en el brillo del sol y las sombras de la tarde, entre la gente sudorosa que mira detrás de las ventanas con ojos vacios. Uno mas por un momento y lleno de particularidades.

Roll the Dice (Charles Bukowski)

if you’re going to try, go all the
way.
otherwise, don’t even start.

if you’re going to try, go all the
way.
this could mean losing girlfriends,
wives, relatives, jobs and
maybe your mind.

go all the way.
it could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days.
it could mean freezing on a
park bench.
it could mean jail,
it could mean derision,
mockery,
isolation.
isolation is the gift,
all the others are a test of your
endurance, of
how much you really want to
do it.
and you’ll do it
despite rejection and the worst odds
and it will be better than
anything else
you can imagine.

if you’re going to try,
go all the way.
there is no other feeling like
that.
you will be alone with the gods
and the nights will flame with
fire.

do it, do it, do it.
do it.

all the way
all the way.

you will ride life straight to
perfect laughter, its
the only good fight
there is.

hoy - Detras de mis ojos.

Detras de mis ojos habia serpientes, habia murcielagos y tortugas... estaba lleno de caracoles y leones. habia pajaros y flores, habia bosques frondosos y habia ciudades. Detras de mis ojos habia cementerios con tumbas poco profundas, llenos de gusanos que desgarran la carne con lentitud abrumadora... detras de mis ojos habia cuervos, de los que te comen los parpados y se roban todo lo que brille, dejan lo oscuro y lo soso. Detras de mis ojos habia algunas luces pero tambien hay mucha oscuridad... lo se.... siempre lo supe. Adelante bajo mis ojos tengo una sonriza que le miente descaradamente a todo el mundo. una sonriza llena de dientes blancos que los mantiene la locura...
No hay nada detras de mis ojos yo lo se y alguna parte tuya lo debe saber tambien. Por eso es tan facil mentirte, decirte lo que sea para que te alejes... ya no me queda nada que dar... ni pajaros ni lombrices. pense que los podiamos buscar y capturarlos y juntarlos... de alguna manera meterlos de a poco por los poros. Era lo que queria, pero era otra conjuracion de mi sonriza. por un segundo compre mi propia mentira.

se que parece cruel, pero lo hice por vos. o por mi... capaz que me daba miedo que vieras adentro mio y solamente hubiera eco.