Charles Bukowski
Charles Bukowski
Henry Charles Bukowskiwas an American poet, novelist, and short story writer...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth16 August 1920
CityAndernach, Germany
CountryUnited States of America
ocean grief gone
it is all ash and dry leaves and grief gone like an ocean liner.
fall mirrors sides
you fall into the mirror, come through the other side staring at a lightbulb.
eye sea color
and the color in my eyes has gone back into the sea.
world lasts caught
the whole world is caught in her glance and at last the universe is magnificent.
baby mean said
Potential," I said, "doesn't mean a thing. You've got to do it. Almost every baby in a crib has more potential than I have.
song white forever
I have a face like a washrag. I sing love songs and carry steel. I would rather die than cry. I can't stand hounds can't live without them. I hang my head against the white refrigerator and want to scream like the last weeping of life forever but I am bigger than the mountains.
fate chance trapped
there's no chance at all: we are all trapped by a singular fate.
suicide spring drinking
I think a man can keep on drinking for centuries, he'll never die; especially wine or beer...I like drunkards, man, because drunkards, they come out of it, and they're sick and they spring back, they spring back and forth...If I hadn't been a drunkard, I probably would have committed suicide long ago.
ideas space interesting
I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didn't have a god, politics, ideas, ideals. I was settled into nothingness; a kind of non-being, and I accepted it. I didn't make for an interesting person. I didn't want to be interesting, it was too hard. What I really wanted was only a soft, hazy space to live in, and to be left alone.
drinking silly people
When I'm drinking around people, I tend to get silly or pugnacious or wild, which can cause problems.
loneliness drinking bars
I hid in bars, because I didn't want to hide in factories.
way ends wedges
That's the way it ends. The thin edge of the wedge.
ends arcs
For each Joan of Arc there is a Hitler perched at the other end of the teeter-totter.
wall drinking wine
Long before I became 'rich and famous' I just sat round drinking wine and staring at the walls.