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MissBehave

Cry Baby
Joined
May 24, 2019
Messages
1,346
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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?


Bluebird by Charles Bukowski
 
You won’t see them often
for wherever the crowd is
they
are not.
Those odd ones, not
many
but from them
come
the few
good paintings
the few
good symphonies
the few
good books
and other
works.
And from the
best of the
strange ones
perhaps
nothing.
They are
their own
paintings
their own
books
their own
music
their own
work.
Sometimes I think
I see
them – say
a certain old
man
sitting on a
certain bench
in a certain
way
or
a quick face
going the other
way
in a passing
automobile
or
there’s a certain motion
of the hands
of a bag-boy or a bag-
girl
while packing
supermarket
groceries.
Sometimes
it is even somebody
you have been
living with
for some
time –
you will notice
a
lightning quick
glance
never seen
from them
before.
Sometimes
you will only note
their
existance
suddenly
in
vivid
recall
some months
some years
after they are
gone.
I remember
such a
one –
he was about
20 years old
drunk at
10 a.m.
Staring into
a cracked
New Orleans
mirror
facing dreaming
against the
walls of
the world
where
did I
go?

The Strongest of the Strange, Charles Bukowsky.
 
There is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average human being to supply any given army on any given day

And the best at murder are those who preach against it
And the best at hate are those who preach love
And the best at war finally are those who preach peace

Those who preach god, need god
Those who preach peace do not have peace
Those who preach peace do not have love

[font=Programme, sans-serif]Beware the preachers[/font]

[font=Programme, sans-serif]Beware the knowers[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Beware those who are always reading books[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Beware those who either detest poverty[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Or are proud of it[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Beware those quick to praise[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]For they need praise in return[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Beware those who are quick to censor[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]They are afraid of what they do not know[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Beware those who seek constant crowds for[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]They are nothing alone[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Beware the average man the average woman[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Beware their love, their love is average[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Seeks average[/font]

[font=Programme, sans-serif]But there is genius in their hatred[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]There is enough genius in their hatred to kill you[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]To kill anybody[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Not wanting solitude[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Not understanding solitude[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]They will attempt to destroy anything[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]That differs from their own[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Not being able to create art[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]They will not understand art[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]They will consider their failure as creators[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Only as a failure of the world[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Not being able to love fully[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]They will believe your love incomplete[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]And then they will hate you[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]And their hatred will be perfect[/font]

[font=Programme, sans-serif]Like a shining diamond[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Like a knife[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Like a mountain[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Like a tiger[/font]
[font=Programme, sans-serif]Like hemlock[/font]

[font=Programme, sans-serif]Their finest art[/font]


[font=Programme, sans-serif]The genius of the crowd, Charles Bukowski[/font]
 
The words have come and gone,
I sit ill.
The phone rings, the cats sleep.
Linda vacuums.
I am waiting to live,
waiting to die.
I wish I could ring in some bravery.
It's a lousy fix
but the tree outside doesn't know:
I watch it moving with the wind
in the late afternoon sun.
There's nothing to declare here,
just a waiting.
Each faces it alone.
Oh, I was once young,
Oh, I was once unbelievably young!

So Now by Charles Bukowski
 
[youtube]ypApKTXuOxU[/youtube]


After a storm
I want to be brave
And keep you warm
And not fade away
As we float from the shore
Into the light
Into the unknown
Like thousands of lanterns
Glowing with grace
In glorious silence
Descending through space

I feel so alone
 
[youtube]o6ml5FdnXiA[/youtube]

Such a bittersweet moment.
At least she faded in the arms of someone who genuinley cared about her.
 
Watched a docmentary today.
Just a normal one about italian football. Very interesting and easy to watch but it opened up some emotions in me.
Weird how I've always felt like I don't belong in this world.
A nobody. Nothing. Not even one thing.
It's like I'm the nothingness of space just watching the world spin around.

This wasn't anything beautiful but...
More like an ugly truth.


[youtube]st2eawTozu8[/youtube]

Everything evil start out as a seed of something good.
 

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