DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL 167): JUNKIE-GEORGIA

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hanker40

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DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES

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CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 167)

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JUNKIE-GEORGIA

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hc33

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„Heute kam das Poster für

Kaputt in Hollywood,

mit dem Foto von mir und

der magersüchtigen Junkie-

Georgia. Ein wüster Treffer.

Die drei Leute, denen ich es

bis jetzt gezeigt habe, sind

alle aus dem Häuschen

geraten. Als ich das Foto

letztes Jahr zum ersten Mal

sah, war mir sofort klar,

daß es unsterblich ist.“

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hc32

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DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL 148): KLEINHOLZ IN CATALINA

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hc30

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DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES

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CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 148)

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KLEINHOLZ IN CATALINA

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hanker100

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„Die Kneipe war ganz ok.

Ich saß mit Vicki (= Liza

Williams) drin und sagte

zu ihr, ich würde Kleinholz

aus ihr machen. Früher

ging ich in Kneipen und

machte Kleinholz aus

ihnen. Inzwischen redete

ich nur noch davon.“

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hanker101

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DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL 101): ICH BIN ICH

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hank4

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DIE BESTEN ZITATE DES

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CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 101)

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ICH BIN ICH

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buk 34

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„Wenn du zwölf Freunde hast,

werde sechs los.

Wenn es zwei sind,

werde einen los.

Ist es einer,

dann ist das dein Drink.

Ich hab‘ keinen. 

Nun, ich bin ich.“

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bukk

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DIE BESTEN GEDICHTE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL 33): THE RAT

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hc120

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DIE BESTEN GEDICHTE DES

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CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 33)

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THE RAT

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aaa 3

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with one punch, at the age of 16 and 1/2,
I knocked out my father,
a cruel shiny bastard with bad breath,
and I didn’t go home for some time, only now and then
to try to get a dollar from
dear momma.
it was 1937 in Los Angeles and it was a hell of a
Vienna.
I ran with these older guys
but for them it was the same:
mostly breathing gasps of hard air
and robbing gas stations that didn’t have any
money, and a few lucky among us
worked part-time as Western Union messenger
boys.
we slept in rented rooms that weren’t rented
and we drank ale and wine
with the shades down
being quiet quiet
and then awakening the whole building
with a fistfight
breaking mirrors and chairs and lamps
and then running down the stairway
just before the police arrived
some of us soldiers of the future
running through the empty starving streets and alleys of
Los Angeles
and all of us
getting together later
in Pete’s room
a small cube of space under a stairway, there we were,
packed in there
without women
without cigarettes
without anything to drink,
while the rich pawed away at their many
choices and the young girls let
them,
the same girls who spit at our shadows as we
walked past.
it was a hell of a
Vienna.
3 of us under that stairway
were killed in World War II.
another one is now manager of a mattress
company.
me? I’m 30 years older,
the town is 4 or 5 times as big
but just as rotten
and the girls still spit on my
shadow, another war is building for another
reason, and I can hardly get a job now
for the same reason I couldn’t then:
I don’t know anything, I can’t do
anything.
sex? well, just the old ones knock on my door after
midnight. I can’t sleep and they see the lights and are
curious.
the old ones. their husbands no longer want them,
their children are gone, and if they show me enough good
leg (the legs go last)
I go to bed with
them.
so the old women bring me love and I smoke their cigarettes
as they
talk talk talk
and then we go to bed again and
I bring them love
and they feel good and
talk
until the sun comes
up, then we
sleep.
it’s a hell of a Paris.

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bukkk2

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DIE BESTEN GEDICHTE DES CHARLES BUKOWSKI (TEIL 32): BEER

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hc105

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DIE BESTEN GEDICHTE DES

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CHARLES BUKOWSKI

(TEIL 32)

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BEER

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hc55

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I don’t know how many bottles of beer
I have consumed while waiting for things
to get better
I dont know how much wine and whisky
and beer
mostly beer
I have consumed after
splits with women-
waiting for the phone to ring
waiting for the sound of footsteps,
and the phone to ring
waiting for the sounds of footsteps,
and the phone never rings
until much later
and the footsteps never arrive
until much later
when my stomach is coming up
out of my mouth
they arrive as fresh as spring flowers:
„what the hell have you done to yourself?
it will be 3 days before you can fuck me!“

the female is durable
she lives seven and one half years longer
than the male, and she drinks very little beer
because she knows its bad for the figure.

while we are going mad
they are out
dancing and laughing
with horney cowboys.

well, there’s beer
sacks and sacks of empty beer bottles
and when you pick one up
the bottle fall through the wet bottom
of the paper sack
rolling
clanking
spilling gray wet ash
and stale beer,
or the sacks fall over at 4 a.m.
in the morning
making the only sound in your life.

beer
rivers and seas of beer
the radio singing love songs
as the phone remains silent
and the walls stand
straight up and down
and beer is all there is.

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buk 35

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