DIE BESTEN GEDICHTE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL 14): THE CRUNCH

x

bukk0

x

DIE BESTEN GEDICHTE DES

x

CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 14)

x

THE CRUNCH

x

bukkk2

x

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-R1t6UdqcU

x

Too much
too little
or not enough

too fat
too thin
or nobody

laughter or
tears
or immaculate
non-concern

haters
lovers

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

or an old guy in a cheap room
with a photograph of Marilyn Monroe

many old guys in cheap rooms without
any photographs at all

many old women rubbing rosaries
when they’d prefer to be rubbing cocks

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

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it blinking in neon signs
in Vegas, in Baltimore, in Munich

there are people so tired
so strafed
so mutilated by love or no
love
that buying a bargain can of tuna
in a supermarket
is their greatest moment
their greatest victory

we don’t need new governments
new revolutions
we don’t need new men
new women
we don’t need new ways
wife-swaps
waterbeds
good Columbian
coke
water pipes
dildoes
rubbers with corkscrew stems
watches that give you the date

people are not good to each other
one on one.
Marx be damned
the sin is not the totality of certain systems.
Christianity be damned
the sin is not the killing of a God.

people are just not good to each other.

we are afraid
we think that hatred means strength
we think that New York City is the greatest
city in America.

what we need is less brilliance
what we need is less instruction

what we need are less poets
what we need are less Bukowskies
what we need are less Billy Grahams

what we need is more
beer
a typist
more finches
more green-eyed whores who don’t eat your heart
like a vitamin pill

we don’t think about the terror of one person
aching in one place

alone
untouched
unspoken to
watering a plant
being without a telephone that will never
ring
because there isn’t one.

more haters than lovers

slices of doom like taffeta

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

and the beads swing and the clouds cloud
and the dogs piss upon the roses
and the killer beheads the child like taking a bite
out of an ice cream cone
and the ocean comes in and out
in and out
under the direction of a senseless moon

and people are not good to each other.

x

bukk00000000

x

DIE BESTEN GEDICHTE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL13): SOMETHING FOR THE TOUTS, THE NUNS, THE GROCERY CLERKS, AND YOU …

x

buk xx

x

DIE BESTEN GEDICHTE DES

x

CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 13)

x

SOMETHING FOR THE TOUTS, THE NUNS,

THE GROCERY CLERKS, AND YOU …

x

bukkk2

x

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GVn9qUz3W94

x

We have everything and we have nothing
and some men do it in churches
and some men do it by tearing butterflies
in half
and some men do it in Palm Springs
laying it into butterblondes
with Cadillac souls
Cadillacs and butterflies
nothing and everything,
the face melting down to the last puff
in a cellar in Corpus Christi.
there’s something for the touts, the nuns,
the grocery clerks and you . . .
something at 8 a.m., something in the library
something in the river,
everything and nothing.
in the slaughterhouse it comes running along
the ceiling on a hook, and you swing it —
one
two
three
and then you’ve got it, $200 worth of dead
meat, its bones against your bones
something and nothing.
it’s always early enough to die and
it’s always too late,
and the drill of blood in the basin white
it tells you nothing at all
and the gravediggers playing poker over
5 a.m. coffee, waiting for the grass
to dismiss the frost . . .
they tell you nothing at all.

we have everything and we have nothing —
days with glass edges and the impossible stink
of river moss — worse than shit;
checkerboard days of moves and countermoves,
fagged interest, with as much sense in defeat as
in victory; slow days like mules
humping it slagged and sullen and sun-glazed
up a road where a madman sits waiting among
bluejays and wrens netted in and sucked a flakey
grey.
good days too of wine and shouting, fights
in alleys, fat legs of women striving around
your bowels buried in moans,
the signs in bullrings like diamonds hollering
Mother Capri, violets coming out of the ground
telling you to forget the dead armies and the loves
that robbed you.
days when children say funny and brilliant things
like savages trying to send you a message through
their bodies while their bodies are still
alive enough to transmit and feel and run up
and down without locks and paychecks and
ideals and possessions and beetle-like
opinions.
days when you can cry all day long in
a green room with the door locked, days
when you can laugh at the breadman
because his legs are too long, days
of looking at hedges . . .

and nothing, and nothing, the days of
the bosses, yellow men
with bad breath and big feet, men
who look like frogs, hyenas, men who walk
as if melody had never been invented, men
who think it is intelligent to hire and fire and
profit, men with expensive wives they possess
like 60 acres of ground to be drilled
or shown-off or to be walled away from
the incompetent, men who’d kill you
because they’re crazy and justify it because
it’s the law, men who stand in front of
windows 30 feet wide and see nothing,
men with luxury yachts who can sail around
the world and yet never get out of their vest
pockets, men like snails, men like eels, men
like slugs, and not as good . . .
and nothing, getting your last paycheck
at a harbor, at a factory, at a hospital, at an
aircraft plant, at a penny arcade, at a
barbershop, at a job you didn’t want
anyway.
income tax, sickness, servility, broken
arms, broken heads — all the stuffing
come out like an old pillow.

we have everything and we have nothing.
some do it well enough for a while and
then give way. fame gets them or disgust
or age or lack of proper diet or ink
across the eyes or children in college
or new cars or broken backs while skiing
in Switzerland or new politics or new wives
or just natural change and decay —
the man you knew yesterday hooking
for ten rounds or drinking for three days and
three nights by the Sawtooth mountains now
just something under a sheet or a cross
or a stone or under an easy delusion,
or packing a bible or a golf bag or a
briefcase: how they go, how they go! — all
the ones you thought would never go.

days like this. like your day today.
maybe the rain on the window trying to
get through to you. what do you see today?
what is it? where are you? the best
days are sometimes the first, sometimes
the middle and even sometimes the last.
the vacant lots are not bad, churches in
Europe on postcards are not bad. people in
wax museums frozen into their best sterility
are not bad, horrible but not bad. the
cannon, think of the cannon, and toast for
breakfast the coffee hot enough you
know your tongue is still there, three
geraniums outside a window, trying to be
red and trying to be pink and trying to be
geraniums, no wonder sometimes the women
cry, no wonder the mules don’t want
to go up the hill. are you in a hotel room
in Detroit looking for a cigarette? one more
good day. a little bit of it. and as
the nurses come out of the building after
their shift, having had enough, eight nurses
with different names and different places
to go — walking across the lawn, some of them
want cocoa and a paper, some of them want a
hot bath, some of them want a man, some
of them are hardly thinking at all. enough
and not enough. arcs and pilgrims, oranges
gutters, ferns, antibodies, boxes of
tissue paper.

in the most decent sometimes sun
there is the softsmoke feeling from urns
and the canned sound of old battleplanes
and if you go inside and run your finger
along the window ledge you’ll find
dirt, maybe even earth.
and if you look out the window
there will be the day, and as you
get older you’ll keep looking
keep looking
sucking your tongue in a little
ah ah no no maybe

some do it naturally
some obscenely
everywhere.

x

bukk00000000

x

DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL 48): BLAULICHT

x

bukkk 3

x

DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES

x

CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 48)

x

BLAULICHT

x

bukk

x

„Das einzige Problem ist, ich muß mich

vor den Typen mit dem Blaulicht in

acht nehmen. Ich kann mirs nicht

leisten, geschnappt zu werden …

Es könnte mich den Führerschein

kosten. Angenommen, sie lassen

mich rechts ranfahren – was soll

ich denen erzählen? Daß ich

Charles Bukowski bin, einer der

größten Dichter auf der Welt?

Daß ich ein paar sagenhafte

Eier an mir dranhängen habe?

Glaubst du, die Herren in Blau

würden mir das abnehmen?“

x

buk 8

x

DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL 47): 25 JAHRE

x

buk 19

x

DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES

x

CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 47)

x

25 JAHRE

x

aaa 3

x

„In 25 Jahren kann ich noch

einen Haufen Scheiß schreiben.

Mensch, heute abend hab‘ ich ein

gutes Gefühl. So als könnte ichs

vielleicht bis 80 schaffen. Ich hab‘

ein bißchen Probleme mit dem Magen,

meine Leber ist am Abschnallen und

meine Hämorrhoiden machen sich

so breit, als wollten sie die Herrschaft

über die ganze Welt antreten, aber

zum Teufel damit. Ich werde es

schaffen. Ich bin gerade stur

genug, um es zu schaffen.“

x

bukk00000000

x

DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL 46): WHISKY

x

buk00

x

DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES

x

CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 46)

x

WHISKY

x

444

x

„Ich bin schon fast den ganzen Tag

am Biertrinken, aber mach dir keine

Sorgen, Kid. Ich werde kein Fenster

einschlagen und auch kein Möbel

zertrümmern. Ich bin ein ziemlich

friedlicher Biertrinker … die meiste

Zeit jedenfalls. Schwierigkeiten mach

ich nur, wenn ich Whisky trinke.

Wenn dann Leute um mich rum sind,

benehme ich mich immer daneben,

werde ausfällig oder fange Streit an,

und das kann Probleme geben.

Deshalb versuche ich es jetzt immer

so einzurichten, daß ich dabei allein

bin. Wie sich’s auch für einen guten

Whiskytrinker gehört. Wer den

Stoff allein trinkt, zeigt damit,

daß er ihm die richtige Achtung

entgegenbringt. Da bekommen

sogar die Lampenschirme einen

Heiligenschein …“

x

bukkk6

x