#charle bukowski

[sicologiasinp-blog]

Charles Bukowski, ¿qué necesitas para crear?

Charles Bukowski, ¿qué necesitas para crear?

En total contraposición a lo que la mayoría de los escritores y artistas plantean, acerca de las condiciones no solo indispensables y si perfectas a la hora de crear, se nos presenta esta especie de diatriba en forma de poema que el viejo indecente recrea de manera exquisita, simple y directa.  

De alguna forma lo expone Romain Rolland cuando afirma: Es el trabajo del artista crear luz cuando el…

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[filofobico]

Vi su cara y pensé, mierda la quiero. ¿Qué haré? Lo mejor que podía hacer era actual con indiferencia; no hay que dejar que se den cuenta que te interesan, porque si no, te liquidan.

Charles Bukowski.

[fckypym]

When someone else’s truth is the same as your truth, and he seems to be saying it just for you, that’s great.

Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye

[dead-white-pegasus]

We are Born like this Into this Into these carefully mad wars Into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness Into bars where people no longer speak to each other Into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings Born into this Into hospitals which are so expensive that it’s cheaper to die Into lawyers who charge so much it’s cheaper to plead guilty Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes

Charles Bukowski

[quotes-for-reference]

be it peace or happiness let it enfold you

Charles Bukowski

[itseasyjusttolookaway]

“In the morning it was morning and I was still alive. Maybe I'll write a novel, I thought. And then I did.”

Charles Bukowski, Post Office

[itseasyjusttolookaway]

“I wanted the whole world or nothing.”

Charles Bukowski, Post Office

[theimmortalsmind-blog]

Bluebird by Charle Bukowski

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?