DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL 121): JANE [1962]

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jane

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DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES

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CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 121)

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JANE (1962)

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cc

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„… und meine tote Freundin

da draußen unter der Erde,

die Ränder der ausgestochenen

Grasnarbe wachsen schon

wieder zusammen, die Würmer

nehmen Witterung auf, und

der schlechte Geschmack,

den es hinterlassen hat,

verläßt mich und mit ihm

die einzige richtige Frau und

echte Freundin, mit der ich

es je ausgehalten habe.“

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hanker11

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DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL 120): FLEDERMÄUSE

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buk 47

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DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES

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CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 120)

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FLEDERMÄUSE

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hank2

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„Wir müssen das Rohmaterial hernehmen

und die Farbe spritzen lassen. Ich finde, ein

Mensch müßte gezwungen sein, in einem Raum

voller Totenschädel zu schreiben, von den Wänden

müßten rohe Fleischfetzen hängen, benagt von

feisten Ratten; die Augenhöhlen nach innen

starrend, ohne Streicherklänge, in das Hirn,

aufgeweicht von Liebe, Äther und Haß;

und für immer und ewig, flatternd wie

ein Fledermausschwarm, die Signalraketen

und Geschoße und Ketten der Geschichte;

das Flappen von Fledermausschwingen,

Qualm und das Klappern von Schädel-

knochen im Bierglas.“

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hank1

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DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL 119): BIER ODER BLUT

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Charles_Bukowski_seriesB5, 3/26/10, 3:19 PM, 8C, 5388x7390 (1577+1713), 100%, Custom, 1/25 s, R72.0, G55.3, B64.2

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DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES

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CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 119)

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BIER ODER BLUT

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hanker60

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„Eins solltest du wissen:

Wenn es mal flau werden

sollte mit meinen Gedichten,

dann nicht, weil ich mich zu

sehr angestrengt habe oder

zu wenig, sondern weil mir

entweder das Bier oder das

Blut ausgegangen ist.“

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hc4

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DIE BESTEN GEDICHTE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL 52): SUNBEAM

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hanker80

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DIE BESTEN GEDICHTE DES

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CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 52)

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SUNBEAM

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hanker62

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Sometimes when you are in hell
and it is continuous
you get a bit giddy
and then when you are tired beyond being
tired
sometimes a crazy feeling gets a hold of
you.

the factory was in east L.A.
and of the 150 workers
I was one of only two white men
there.
the other had a soft job.
mine was to wrap and tape 
the light fixtures
as they came off the assembly line and
as I tried
to keep pace the
sharp edges of the tape
cut through my gloves and into my
hands.
finally
the gloves had to be thrown
away
because
they were cut to shreds
and then my hands were completely exposed
each new slice like an electric
shock.

I was the big dumb white boy
and as the others
worked to keep pace
all eyes were watching to see
if I would
fall behind.

I gave up on my hands
but I didn’t give up.

the pace seemed impossible
and then something snapped in my
brain and I screamed
out the name of the firm we were all slaving
for, „SUNBEAM!“

at once
everybody laughed
all the girls on the assembly line and
all the guys too although
we still had to struggle to keep up with
the work flow.

then I yelled it
again:
„SUNBEAM!“

it was a total release for me.

then one of the girls on the
assembly line yelled back,
„SUNBEAM!“

and we all
laughed
together.

and then as we continued
to work
a new voice
would suddenly call out from
somewhere,
„SUNBEAM!“

and each time we
laughed until
we were all drunk with
laughter.

then the foreman,
Morry,
came in from the other
room.

„WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON IN
HERE? THAT SCREAMING HAS GOT
TO STOP!“

so then, we stopped.

and as Morry turned away we saw that the
seat of his pants was jammed up in the crack of
his ass, that fool in control of
our universe!

I lasted about 4 months there
and I will always remember that day,
that joy, the madness, the mutual
magic of our
many voices
one at a time
screaming
„SUNBEAM!“

sometimes when you are in
a living hell
long enough
things like that sometimes happen
and then
you’re in a kind of heaven
a heaven which might not seem to be
very much at all 
to most folks
but which is good enough
especially when you can
watch someone like Morry
walk away with the seat of his pants
jammed up in the crack of his
ass.

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buke21

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DIE BESTEN GEDICHTE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL 51): I WAIT IN THE WHITE RAIN

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bukkk2

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DIE BESTEN GEDICHTE DES

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CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 51)

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I WAIT IN THE WHITE RAIN

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aaa 3

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I wait in the white rain for knives like your tongue
I see the spiral clowns fountain up with myths untrue,
I wrestle spasms in the dark on dark stairways
while dollar crazy landladies
are threaded with the hot needles of sperm,
come these morning drunks
brushing away sunlight from eyes like a web,
come darling, come gloria patri, come luck,
come anything,
this is the hot way—
points sticking in like armadillos
in the rear of a Benedictine mind,
and snow snow snow snow snow
shovel all the snow upon me I can hold,
gingerbread mouth, duck-like dick,
raisins for buttons, thread for heart-strings,
damned waves of blood caught in them
like a minnow in the Tide of Everywhere
I wait in the white rain for knives like your tongue
and the trucks go by
with bankrupt faces
the steam of their essence like foul sweat
stale stink death in my socks
all the drums of hell
cannot awaken a rhythm within me
I am gone
like an old pale goldfish
dead and stiff as aunt Helen
looking flat-eyed into the center of my brain
and flushed away like any other waste of man,
the man-turd, the breath of life,
and why we don’t go mad as roaches, why not more
suicides I’ll never know
as I wait in the white rain for knives like your tongue,
I am done, quite; like any ford that cuts off a river
I am done forever and only,
this christ-awful waiting on the end of a stale movie,
everyone screaming for beauty and victory
like children for candy,
my hands open
unamazed hand
unamazed mind
unamazed doorsill
send your flowers to Shakey Joe
or Butternaut Carlyle
who might trade them to useful purpose
before everything, everyone
is dead.

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buke24

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