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#1 Charles Bukowski

Posted: 27/01/2006 13:39
by victory
Image

Charles Bukowski Reads His Poetry

Friendly Advice to a Lot of Young Men

http://s21.yousendit.com/d.aspx?id=1EJ2 ... RVIH144VMT

Go to Tibet.
Ride a camel.
Read the bible.
Dye your shoes blue.
Grow a beard.
Circle the world in a paper canoe.
Subscribe to The Saturday Evening Post.
Chew on the left side of your mouth only.
Marry a woman with one leg and shave with a


straight razor.
And carve your name in her arm.
Brush your teeth with gasoline.
Sleep all day and climb trees at night.
Be a monk and drink buckshot and beer.
Hold your head under water and play the violin.
Do a belly dance before pink candles.
Kill your dog.
Run for Mayor.
Live in a barrel.
Break your head with a hatchet.
Plant tulips in the rain.

But don't write poetry.

#2

Posted: 27/01/2006 13:54
by victory
To the Whore Who Took My Poems


http://s21.yousendit.com/d.aspx?id=1DQ3 ... COXJVT68TP


some say we should keep personal remorse from the
poem,
stay abstract, and there is osme reason in this,
but jezus;
twelve poems gone and I don't keep carbons and you have
my
paintings too, my best ones; it's stifling:
are you trying to crush me out like the rest of them?
why didn't you take my money? they usually do
from the sleeping drunken pants sick in the corner.
next time take my left arm or a fifty
but not my poems:
I'm not Shakespeare
but sometime simply
there won't be any more, abstract or otherwise;
there'll always be money and whores and drunkards
down to the last bomb,
but as God said,
crossing his legs,
I see where I have made plenty of poets
but not so very much
poetry.

#3

Posted: 27/01/2006 14:19
by victory

#4

Posted: 27/01/2006 23:39
by Soul_Sista
..svaka cast za ovu temu i postavljene linkove, usput cu da postiram par njegovih napisanih redova.

A Challenge To The Dark

shot in the eye
shot in the brain
shot in the ass
shot like a flower in the dance.

C. B.
....................

Are You Drinking?

washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook
out again
I write from the bed
as I did last
year.
will see the doctor,
Monday.
"yes, doctor, weak legs, vertigo, head-
aches and my back
hurts."
"are you drinking?" he will ask.
"are you getting your
exercise, your
vitamins?"
I think that I am just ill
with life, the same stale yet
fluctuating
factors.
even at the track
I watch the horses run by
and it seems
meaningless.
I leave early after buying tickets on the
remaining races.
"taking off?" asks the motel
clerk.
"yes, it's boring,"
I tell him.
"If you think it's boring
out there," he tells me, "you oughta be
back here."
so here I am
propped up against my pillows
again
just an old guy
just an old writer
with a yellow
notebook.
something is
walking across the
floor
toward
me.
oh, it's just
my cat
this
time.

C.B.
....................


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.

C.B.
.......................

Girl In A Miniskirt Reading The Bible Outside My Window

Sunday, I am eating a
grapefruit, church is over at the Russian
Orthadox to the
west.

she is dark
of Eastern descent,
large brown eyes look up from the Bible
then down. a small red and black
Bible, and as she reads
her legs keep moving, moving,
she is doing a slow rythmic dance
reading the Bible. . .

long gold earrings;
2 gold bracelets on each arm,
and it's a mini-suit, I suppose,
the cloth hugs her body,
the lightest of tans is that cloth,
she twists this way and that,
long yellow legs warm in the sun. . .

there is no escaping her being
there is no desire to. . .

my radio is playing symphonic music
that she cannot hear
but her movements coincide exactly
to the rythms of the
symphony. . .

she is dark, she is dark
she is reading about God.
I am God.

C.B
..........................

New Mexico

I was fairly drunk when it
began and I took out my bottle and used it
along the way. I was reading a week or two after
Kandel and I did not look quite as
pretty but
I brought it off and we
ended up at the Webbs, 6, 8, 10 of
us, and I drank scotch, wine, beer, tequila
and noticed a nice one sitting next to me -
one tooth missing when she smiled,
lovely, and I put my arm around her
and began loading her with bullshit. when I awakened at 10 a.m. the next morning
I was in a strange house
in bed with this
woman. she was asleep but looked
familiar.

C.B.
........................

Dosta za veceras ali se vracam na ovu temu :)

p.s.
trenutno vrti "Soul meets Body" 8-)

#5

Posted: 29/01/2006 16:25
by FortunaBela
Ništa nije djelotvorno kao poraz

uvijek nosi notes sa sobom
kamo god ideš, rekao je,
i ne pij previše, piće otupljuje
osjetila,
budi nazočan kad se čita, zapazi stanke u dahu,
i kad ti čitaš
budi uvijek umjeren
ne ističi previše, gomila je bistrija nego ti
pretpostavljaš,
i kad nešto napišeš
ne šalji smjesta,
stavi u ladicu dva tjedna,
onda izvuci i pogledaj
stvar, i preuređuj, preuređuj,
PREUREĐUJ ponovno i ponovno,
učvrsti retke kao vijke što drže luk
mosta od 5 milja,
i drži notes uz krevet,
nadoći će ti misli noću
i te će misli nestati i biti izgubljene
ako ih ne zapišeš.
i ne pij, svaka budala može
piti, mi smo ljudi
književnosti.

za čovjeka koji uopće nije mogao pisati
on je bio otprilike kao i svi
ostali: mogao je zacijelo
govoriti
o tome.
C.B.
--------------

ŠTO ONI ŽELE

Valleja koji piše o
samoći dok gladuje do
smrti;
Van Goghovo uho koje je odbila
kurva;
Rimbauda koji je pobjegao u Afriku
tražiti zlato i našao
neizlječiv slučaj sifilisa;
Beethovena koji je oglušio;
Pounda koga su vukli u kavezu
ulicama;
Chattertona koji guta otrov za štakore;
Hemingwayov mozak što kaplje u
sok od naranče;
Pascala koji reže žile
u kadi;
Artauda zatvorena s luđacima;
Dostojevskog kako stoji pred zidom;
Cranea kako skače u brodski propeler;
Lorcu kako ga ubijaju španjolske trupe na
cesti;
Berrymana koji skače s mosta;
Burroughsa koji puca u svoju ženu;
Mailera kako bode nožem svoju.
- to je ono što oni žele:
prokletu predstavu
osvjetljenu oglasnu ploču
u središtu pakla.
to je ono što oni žele,
to mnoštvo
bešćutnih
mutavih
sigurnih
turobnih
obožavatelja
karnevala.