Saturday, November 28, 2009

A Poem By Charles Bukowski

So You Want To Be A Writer

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 mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

Monday, November 23, 2009


In my favorite dress of skin and cloth, I'll go out from warmth to wind.
I'll walk down the road to meet your eyes, on a dark, candle lit street.
I'll leave the air between our breath, to see what you can dish.
What movement and words the wind can bring,
and the effect, like a blow of fire and lead.

I'll unfurl myself outwards, to soak in the words.
let the pain seep into my every pore.
Breathe it in as if pain were part of the heavy air,
Breathe it in like my greatest friend.
I've kept you at bay for far too long,
I'll open my arms to you, my crouching tiger.
The only one always there when everyone else has left.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

following my head

A heart lies here in a darkened room,
clenching and letting go.
Like a fist in the night with a lot on it's mind,
It can't seem to just be still.
And a body encases the anger inside,
to feel it's every cry.
And I, the soul who holds it close,
will keep it company every night.
And I'll lie awake hearing its plea for me,
to just let go of sadness.
And it pleas please get up and follow me
and I'll bring you away from madness.
But then my mind reminds me that my heart is blind,
And would lead me through the thick and thin.
And even then I'll never catch up,
with the call that has my heart clenching.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Conversation between Strangers

Man - you OK there?
Girl- Yeah.
Man- You don't look it. I saw you heading toward the water there, for a second I was thinking "oh shit", I thought I'd have to go swimming, and I'm not a strong swimmer so we'd both have drowned!
Man- Don't be a fool, last year I was a fool. Your not a fool are you?
Girl - No, I'm not a fool.
Man - Whats your name? I'm just heading home now.
They call me Frank, Frank the Tank, but that's a different story.
Girl - ......
Frank - let me tell you, Last year, I was at rock bottom. But my father used to always tell me that life was like a wheel, you can be at rock bottom one year, and the next you'd be at the top of it, and be the most popular in everything you do. Things always get better, don't let boys get you down anyway, there's plenty more of them.
Girl - It's not that.
Frank - Well whatever it is, take care of yourself, and get home safe.