I will remember the kisses, our lips raw with love,
and how you gave me everything you had
and how I offered you what was left of me.
— Charles Bukowski
This is a collection of poetry that makes me go "oof."
-
2013-03-14
-
2013-03-06
When I run my hand across a page of poetry I do not want oil and onionskin, I do not want slick bullshit; I want my hand to come away with blood on it. And God damn you if you are otherwise.
— Charles Bukowski
-
2012-07-22
“I loved you
like a man loves a woman he never touches, only
writes to, keeps little photographs of.”Charles Bukowski
-
2012-07-01
I wasn’t lonely.
I experienced no self-pity.
I was just caught up in a
life in which
I could find no
meaning.— Charles Bukowski
-
2012-06-17
to Jane Cooney Baker, died 1-22-62
I will not find you on the street
nor will the phone ring, and each moment will not
let me be in peace.
it is not enough that there are many deaths
and that this is not the first;it is not enough that I may live many more days,
even perhaps, more years.
it is not enough.
the phone is like a dead animal that will
not speak. and when it speaks again it will
always be the wrong voice now.
I have waited before and you have always walked in through
the door. now you must wait for me.
Charles Bukowski -
2011-06-07
one of Lorca’s best lines
is,
“agony, always
agony …”
think of this when you
kill a
cockroach or
pick up a razor to
shave
or awaken in the morning
to
face the
sun.
Charles Bukowski -
2011-06-06
If it doesn’t come bursting out of you,
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
Charles Bukowski -
→
Now it’s computers and more computers
and soon everybody will have one,
3-year olds will have computers
and everybody will know everything
about everybody else
long before they meet them
and so they won’t want to meet them.
nobody will want to meet anybody
else ever again
and everybody will be
a recluse
like I am now.
Charles Bukowski -
→
It was like any other
relationship, there was
jealousy on both sides,
there were split-ups and
reconciliations.
there were also fragmented moments of
great peace and beauty.
I often tried to get away from her and
she tied to get away from me
but it was difficult:
Cupid, in his strange way, was really
there.
Charles Bukowski
