look at all their pretty faces
lined up on the wall
i think i'd like to try on that one
then i'd feel ten feet tall
all this writing in ugly diaries
was bound to take its toll
maybe we could jump the next train
if i may be so bold
oh
well i can't really understand
where i stop and you begin
you're tellin me that it's not true
and lies we breathe and beds we make
just strengthen this fool's parade
but damn i just can't leave this muse
oh
just today
just today
just today
is
all
i
know
25.4.10
anywhereanythingjustme
lifedance by charles bukowski
"the area dividing the brain and the soul
is affected in many ways by
experience-
some lose all mind and become soul:
insane.
some lose all soul and become mind:
intellectual.
some lose both and become:
accepted."
w h e r e d o i b e l o n g
"the area dividing the brain and the soul
is affected in many ways by
experience-
some lose all mind and become soul:
insane.
some lose all soul and become mind:
intellectual.
some lose both and become:
accepted."
w h e r e d o i b e l o n g
22.4.10
from the pleasures of the damned
millionaires by charles bukowski
you
no faces
no faces
at all
laughing at nothing-
let me tell you
I have drunk in skid row rooms with
imbecile winos
whose cause was better
whose eyes still held some light
whose voices still retained some sensibility,
and when morning came
we were sick but not ill,
poor but not deluded,
and we stretched in our beds and rose
in the late afternoons
like millionaires.
you
no faces
no faces
at all
laughing at nothing-
let me tell you
I have drunk in skid row rooms with
imbecile winos
whose cause was better
whose eyes still held some light
whose voices still retained some sensibility,
and when morning came
we were sick but not ill,
poor but not deluded,
and we stretched in our beds and rose
in the late afternoons
like millionaires.
20.4.10
flee
persona. outward inward
why so concerned with death
it comes out of hiding just about everywhere now
was lying next to him inevitable
tennyson hesitates/don't spread her ashes yet
"this hope is killing you"
sisyphus pushes psyche counts
lucifer falls
but
in a world of perfection and absence of wrong what first
made him lose his balance...
rolling down and spinning round
flash of red or waiting bound
behind her veil's not sacred now
don't spread her ashes yet
deuteronomy 30
why so concerned with death
it comes out of hiding just about everywhere now
was lying next to him inevitable
tennyson hesitates/don't spread her ashes yet
"this hope is killing you"
sisyphus pushes psyche counts
lucifer falls
but
in a world of perfection and absence of wrong what first
made him lose his balance...
rolling down and spinning round
flash of red or waiting bound
behind her veil's not sacred now
don't spread her ashes yet
deuteronomy 30
19.4.10
people are not good to each other
the crunch by Charles Bukowski
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"
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"
8.4.10
where have you been
hold it in don't let it out
hold it hold it hold it hold them
blood stained and shattered needles lay beneath us and
someone's calling, listen to it,somebody's always calling
and there is always this danger answer-
(where have you been, Joy, where have you been,
Oh God, Joy where have you been?)
shall i never leave this muse that dies to find me damned
(joy, where have you been?)
and,
(I wish I'd known that you were bleeding while I sat and watched you reading
with the Lord, I read with Him too)
Psalm 10:11 screams and then,
and then and then
4 weeks left. i fear the fall.
she'll go on to that place again where men
only want one thing
and women, we just give it to them everytime
everytime everytime
(He says to himself, "God has forgotten; he covers his face and will never see.")
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