Charles Bukowski›Poezii

prea mult prea puțin prea gras prea slab sau nimeni. râs sau lacrimi dușmani iubiți străini cu fețe

polițiștii vor să merg la secție și să identific un individ care-a încercat să mă violeze. iar mi-am pierdut cheia de la mașină. am o cheie de

până la urmă mi-am cumpărat și eu un televizor color și noaptea trecută am dat peste filmul ăsta: în Paris e un individ care n-are nici un

unii spun c-ar trebui să ne ținem departe resentimentele de poezie, să ne ținem abstracți, și au într-un fel dreptate, dar, hiiisuse!

carnea învelește oasele și ei pun și-o minte acolo și uneori și-un suflet și femeile sparg vaze de pereți și bărbații beau prea mult și

în privința literaturii, pentru o vreme a fost Hemingway, apoi am observat că se cam repetă, că nu mai scrie cu adevărat. în ce privește sexul, am

una dintre iubitele mele a venit mi-a făcut patul a spălat bucătăria a spălat pereții a dat cu aspiratorul a curățat toaleta cada a frecat

brusc transformat în cenușa strălucitoare, albie a lacrimilor de vanilie trupul tău le lumina bărbaților nopțile întunecate și-acum noaptea-n

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

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

drunk and writing poems at 3 a.m. what counts now is one more tight pussy before the light tilts out drunk and writing poems at 3:15

I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny they are small, and the fountain is in France where you wrote

we are always asked to understand the other person\'s viewpoint no matter how out-dated foolish or obnoxious. one is asked to view their

Alabam was a sneak and a theif and he came to my room when I was drunk and each time I got up he would shove me back down. you prick, I tole

with an Apple Macintosh you can\'t run Radio Shack programs in its disc drive. nor can a Commodore 64 drive read a file you have created on

drunk on the dark streets of some city, it\'s night, you\'re lost, where\'s your room? you enter a bar to find yourself, order scotch and

I awaken about noon and go out to get the mail in my old torn bathrobe. I\'m hung over hair down in my eyes barefoot gingerly walking on the

If it doesn\'t come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don\'t do it. unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your

self-congratulatory nonsense as the famous gather to applaud their seeming greatness you wonder where the real ones are what giant

the lady has me temporarily off the bottle and now the pecker stands up better. however, things change overnight-- instead of listening to

I went to the worst of bars hoping to get killed. but all I could do was to get drunk again. worse, the bar patrons even ended up liking

she\'s young, she said, but look at me, I have pretty ankles, and look at my wrists, I have pretty wrists o my god, I thought it was all

when God created love he didn\'t help most when God created dogs He didn\'t help dogs when God created plants that was average when God created

stuck in the rain on the freeway, 6:15 p.m., these are the lucky ones, these are the dutifully employed, most with their radios on as loud as