Wow after a very long time, right? I hope you are doing amazing and you look great BTW. In case you’re wondering why she is back now, I couldn’t sleep well without knowing the answer to this question – Do you read poems?
If so, please add me to your club. Past few months went like a fantasy with the words I read – they kept me in the fictional loop. I understood sometimes all you need is poetry, a cup of tea, and a gentle touch of breeze (of course).
I am no Shakespeare’s head, his era always confuses me. So, I have never let myself indulge in poetry except the ones I wrote. But one YouTube video changed everything. It was a random YouTube suggestion explaining Bukowski’s theories and life history. Once I completed that, I immediately fell in love with him. His reckless comments on everything made so much sense to me, I think to anybody – it would.
To get more of his words I discovered his poems and whatever he wrote are madly true. Now I don’t want to be selfish by not sharing this treasure with you. Thus, here are my five favourite poems by Charles Bukowski. I made tough calls while choosing them though!! If you like them, at the end I have a little surprise for you :>
1. Bluebird
there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him. I say, stay in there,
I’m not going to let anybody see you
there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders and
the grocery clerks never know that he’s in there
there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him, I say,
stay down, do you want to mess me up?
you want to screw up the works?
you want to blow my book sales in Europe?
there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
But I’m too clever, I only let him out at night sometimes
When everybody’s asleep,
I say, I know that you’re there
so don’t be sad
then I put him back
but he’s singing a little in there
I haven’t quite let him die
and we sleep together like that
With our secret pact and
It’s nice enough to make a man weep
but I don’t weep,
do you?
2. Roll the dice
If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start.
If you’re going to try, go all the way. This could mean
– losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs, and maybe your mind;
go all the way
it could mean not eating for three or four days
it could mean freezing on a park bench
it could mean jail
it could mean derision, mockery, isolation
Isolation is a gift. All the others are a test of your endurance,
how much you really want to do it.
And you will do it.
Despite rejections and the worst odds
And it will be better than anything else that you can imagine
If you’re going to try, go all the way
There’s no other feeling like that
You will be alone with the gods and the nights will flame with fire
Do it; do it; do it
All the way
You will ride life straight into perfect laughter, it’s the only good fight
there is.
3. Oh, yes
there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it’s too late
and there’s nothing worse
than
too late
4. If we take –
If we take what we can see –
the engines driving us mad,
lovers finally hating;
this fish in the market
staring upward into our minds;
flowers rotting, flies web-caught;
riots, roars of caged lions,
clowns in love with dollar bills,
nations moving people like pawns;
daylight thieves with beautiful
nighttime wives and wines;
the crowded jails,
the commonplace unemployed,
dying grass, 2-bit fires;
men old enough to love the grave.
These things, and others, in content
show life swinging on a rotten axis.
But they’ve left us a bit of music
and a spiked show in the corner,
a jigger of scotch, a blue necktie,
a small volume of poems by Rimbaud,
a horse running as if the devil were
twisting his tail
over bluegrass and screaming, and then,
love again
like a streetcar turning the corner
on time,
The city waiting,
the wine and the flowers,
the water walking across the lake
and summer and winter and summer and summer
and winter again
5. Writing
often it is the only thing
between you and impossibility –
no drink,
no woman’s love,
no wealth can match it.
Nothing can save you except writing.
It keeps the walls from failing
the hordes from closing in
It blasts the darkness
Writing is the ultimate psychiatrist
the kindliest god of all the gods
Writing stalks death, it knows no quit
And writing laughs at itself; at pain
It is the last expectation, the last explanation
That’s what it is.
These five poems are not enough to bask in Bukowski. This man has something to say for every mood swing you have and he is always right about it. We used to say I listen to songs according to my mood, but enjoy a poem instead. That might also help you introspect better.
A little surprise for fellow Bukowski fans – my favourite videos and the book I have read and still reading. And let me know if you like this collection or if you have a better one than this. I would not miss a chance to inhale anything but the good words. See you soon, hopefully!
An avid storyteller who will never say no to a decent cup of tea and anything called SCRIPT!!
