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Wit, wisdom, sauce, satire. Stuff.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

The Crunch by Charles Bukowski

too much
too little
or too late

too fat

too thin
or too bad

laughter or

tears
or immaculate
unconcern

haters

lovers

armies running through streets of pain

waving wine bottles
bayoneting and fucking everyone

or an old guy in a cheap quiet room

with a photograph of Marilyn Monroe.

there is a loneliness in this world so great

that you can see it in the slow movement of
a clock's hands.

there is a loneliness in this world so great

that you can see it in blinking neon
in Vegas, in Baltimore, in Munich.

people are tired

strafed by life
mutilated either by lover or no
love.

we don't need new governments

new revolutions
we don't need new men
new women
we don't need new ways
we just need to care.

people are not good to each other

one on one.
people are just not good to each other.

we are afraid.

we think that hatred signifies
strength.
that punishment is
love.

what we need is less false education

what we need are fewer rules
fewer police
and more good teachers.

we forget the terror of one person

aching in one room
alone
unkissed
untouched
cut off
watering a plant alone
without a telephone that would never
ring
anyway.

people are not good to each other

people are not good to each other
people are not good to each other

and the beads swing and the clouds obscure

and dogs piss upon rose bushes
the killer beheads the child like taking a bite
out of an ice cream cone
while the ocean comes in and goes out
in and out
in the thrall of a senseless moon.

and people are not good to each other.
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