marți, ianuarie 18

la poésie est dans la rue

On a completely different tangent from what I've been writing lately, here's a quick update of what I've been doing. My life is getting ever more hectic this year, in a good way. Apart from the school crap, which I don't even find so tiring and demanding as everybody is complaining, these have been some really good days. I went to a lot of cultural events, and I'm really proud of myself because I never make the time for this anymore. I've been coping with school quite well, and I even started writing poetry again, after re-discovering two of my favorite poets (Traian T. Cosovei & Charles Bukowski).
So here's some poetry I've been enjoying, as of late. Of course it's Bukowski. Again.

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 pur 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?

-"Bluebird", C.Bukowski

I started a personal collection of poetry. Who writes poetry in the morning? Preachers and wanderers? And thieves?

and me?

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