View allAll Photos Tagged charlesbukowski
Yes Yes
when God created love he didn't help most
when God created dogs He didn't help dogs
when God created plants that was average
when God created hate we had a standard utility
when God created me He created me
when God created the monkey He was asleep
when He created the giraffe He was drunk
when He created narcotics He was high and
when He created suicide He was low
when He created you lying in bed
He knew what He was doing
He was drunk and He was high
and
He created the mountians and the sea and fire at the same time
He made some mistakes
but when He created you lying in bed He came all over His Blessed Universe.
Charles Bukowski
— I will remember the kisses our lips raw with love
and how you gave me everything you had
and how I offered you what was left of me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light of the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth of you
who made me laugh again —
Charles Bukowski
I'm not a huge fan of Bukowski (though I do have and love his book on cats and love the fact that he was a big cat fan). I thought the framing of this was really perfect. I tend to prefer female poets myself, though. From Vancouver, Canada.
This one is for my friend Bob.
**All photos are copyrighted**
In pratica
le grandi parole dei grandi uomini
non sono poi così grandi.
E le grandi nazioni o le grandi bellezze
non lasciano altro che il residuo
della reputazione che sarà lentamente
rosicchiato via.
Né le grandi guerre sembrano così grandi,
né le grandi poesie
né le leggende di prima mano.
Persino i lutti
ora sono così tristi,
e il fallimento non è stato altro che un
trucco
per farci continuare.
E la celebrità e l'amore
un trucco per alleviare il nostro sanguinare.
E come il fuoco diventa cenere e l'acciaio
diventa ruggine, noi diventiamo
saggi
e poi
non così saggi.
E sediamo su sedie
leggendo vecchie mappe,
guerre finite, amori finiti, vite finite,
e un bambino gioca davanti a noi come una scimmia
e noi diamo un colpetto alla pipa e sbadigliamo,
chiudiamo gli occhi e dormiamo.
Belle parole
come belle signore,
si accartocciano e muoiono.
Charles Bukowski
DO NOT use my pictures without my written permission, these images are under copyright. Contact me if you want to buy or use them. CarloAlessio77© All rights reserved
With our love, we could save the world.
George Harrison
You begin saving the world by saving one man at a time; all else is grandiose romanticism or politics.
Charles Bukowski
Thank you for your kind visit. Have a wonderful and beautiful day! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
Satie: 3 Gymnopédies: No. 1, Lent et douloureux | Alexandre Tharaud
youtu.be/I5XTg2VW9N4?si=AGTnoXtugyUezFzq
I've never been lonely. I've been in a room -- I've felt suicidal. I've been depressed. I've felt awful -- awful beyond all -- but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me...or that any number of people could enter that room.
In other words, loneliness is something I've never been bothered with because I've always had this terrible itch for solitude.
It's being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness.
I'll quote Ibsen, "The strongest men are the most alone." ….
You know the typical crowd, "Wow, it's Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there?" Well, yeah. Because there's nothing out there. It's stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidity themselves.
I've never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn't want to hide in factories.
That's all.
Sorry for all the millions, but I've never been lonely.
I like myself. I'm the best form of entertainment I have.
Let's drink more wine!
- by CHARLES BUKOWSKI
Dear friends,
Wishing you love, joy, and peace this Christmas.
Bes~
Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence | Ryuichi Sakamoto
and the windows opened that night,
a ceiling dripped the sweat of a tin god,
and I sat eating a watermelon,
all false red,
water like slow running of rusty tears,
and I spit out seeds and swallowed seeds,
and I kept thinking I am a fool I am a fool to eat this watermelon,
but I kept eating anyhow.
- by Charles Bukowski
an apprehension for reality, the death of the flower,
the collapse of hope, the crush of
wasted years, the nightmare faces,
the mad armies attacking for no reason at all
and/or
old shoes abandoned in old corners like half-forgotten
voices that once said love but did not mean
love.
see the face in the mirror? the mirror in the
wall? the wall in the house? the house in the
street?
now always the wrong voice on the telephone
and/or
the hungry mouse with beautiful eyes which now lives in
your brain.
the angry, the empty, the lonely, the
tricked.
we are all
museums of fear.
there are
as many killers as flies as
we dream of giant
sea turtles with strange words carved into
their hard backs
and no place for the knife to go in.
Cain was Able,
ask him.
give us this day our daily dread.
the only solace left to us is to hide
alone in the middle of night in some deserted
place.
with each morning less than zero,
humanity is a hammer to the brain,
our lives a bouquet of blood, you can watch
this fool still with his harmonica
playing elegiac tunes while
slouching toward Nirvana
without
expectation or
grace.
Charles Bukowski
bukowski.net/manuscripts/displaymanuscript.php?show=poem1...
Monteverde-Costa Rica
Nikon D3+Nikkor 75-300mm ƒ/4.5-5.6
© Ivan Herrador
“If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery--isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you'll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is.”
― Charles Bukowski, Factotum
All of us. Didn’t the shrink know that waiting was one of the things that drove people crazy? People waited all their lives. They waited to live, they waited to die. They waited in line to buy toilet paper. They waited in line for money. And if they didn’t have any money they waited in longer lines. You waited to go to sleep and then you waited to awaken. You waited to get married and you waited to get divorced. You waited for it to rain, you waited for it to stop. You waited to eat and then you waited to eat again. You waited in a shrink’s office with a bunch of psychos and you wondered if you were one.
Charles Bukowski
Kogan plays Bach Sonata No. 1 for Violin and Harpsichord in B minor, BWV 1014
Your life is your life
Don't let it be clubbed into dark submission.
Be on the watch.
There are ways out.
There is a light somewhere.
It may not be much light but it beats the darkness.
from The Laughing Heart by Charles Bukowski
www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXq-14lV79s
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
© All rights reserved Anna Kwa. Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit written permission
Or at least one of the lasts. A Genova bookshop, named after -- I guess -- Charles Bukowski.
Vico Valoria 40
“love
iz
a
big
fat
turkey
and
every
day
iz
thanksgiving”
― Charles Bukowski "What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire"
archive.nytimes.com/www.nytimes.com/books/99/12/26/review...
Nikon D3S+Nikon 60mm ƒ/2.8 Micro-NIKKOR AF+Aputure AL-M9 Amaran
© Ivan Herrador
*Working Towards a Better World
When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive - to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love. -
Marcus Aurelius
Some moments are nice, some are nicer, some are even worth
writing about.” -
Charles Bukowski,
War All the Time
She smiled and said with an ecstatic air: "It shines like a little diamond",
"What does?"
"This moment. It is round, it hangs in empty space like a little diamond; I am eternal". -
Jean-Paul Sartre,
The Age of Reason
I've always believed in savoring the moments. In the end, they are the only things we'll have. -
Anna Godbersen, The Luxe
There are many forms of love as there is moments in time, and you are capable of feeling them all at different stages of your life.
Shannon L. Alder
Love one another and you will be happy. It's as simple and as difficult as that. - Michael Leunig
Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit. - Peter Ustinov
Thank you for your kind visit. Have a wonderful and beautiful day! xo💜💜
If I never see you again
I will always carry you
inside
outside
on my fingertips
and at brain edges
and in centers
centers
of what I am of
what remains.
Charles Bukowski
Nanuk
La tragedia delle foglie
Poesia tratta da It Catches My Heart in Its Hands
(Poems 1955-1963)
Charles Bukowski (1920-1994)
Scrittore e poeta statunitense di origine tedesca
La tragedia delle foglie
mi destai alla siccità e le felci erano morte,
le piante in vaso gialle come grano;
la mia donna era sparita
e i cadaveri dissanguati delle bottiglie vuote
mi cingevano con la loro inutilità;
c'era ancora un bel sole, però,
e il biglietto della padrona ardeva d'un giallo caldo
e senza pretese; ora quello che ci voleva
era un buon attore, all'antica, un burlone capace di scherzare
sull'assurdità del dolore; il dolore è assurdo
perché esiste, solo per questo;
sbarbai accuratamente con un vecchio rasoio
l'uomo che un tempo era stato giovane e,
così dicevano, geniale; ma
questa è la tragedia delle foglie,
le felci morte, le piante morte;
ed entrai in una sala buia
dove stava la padrona di casa
insultante e ultimativa,
mandandomi all'inferno,
mulinando i braccioni sudati
e strillando
strillando che voleva i soldi dell'affitto
perché il mondo ci aveva tradito
tutt'e due.
_________________________________________________________________-
The tragedy of the leaves
I awakened to dryness and the ferns were dead,
the potted plants yellow as corn;
my woman was gone
and the empty bottles like bled corpses
surrounded me with their uselessness;
the sun was still good, though,
and my landlady's note cracked in fine and
undemanding yellowness; what was needed now
was a good comedian, andcient style,
a jester
with jokes upon absurd pain; pain is absurd
because it exists, nothing more;
I shaved carefully with an old razor
the man who had once been young and
said to have genius; but
that's the tragedy of the leaves,
the dead ferns, the dead plants;
and I walked into a dark hall
where the landlady stood
execrating and final,
sending me to hell,
waving her fat, sweaty arms
and screaming
screaming for rent
because the world has failed us
both.
the best often die by their own hand
just to get away,
and those left behind
can never quite understand
why anybody
would ever want to
get away
from
them
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Please: no invitations and no flashy whatevers – I prefer a silent look or a few honest words. Thank you!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Last week I visited Gabo's World and brought him the darkroom-photos I had taken some days before (in his garage where he keeps a lot of interesting stuff) since he was curious to see what had come out of the time I had spent in the dark.
It had not been easy to get up the nerve to do this, but I was brave... and Gabo was all excited when he saw the photos. "You're an artist, I knew it, you're an artist!" he shouted. "You should exhibit your images – we're going to exhibit them!" And he ran away with the photos in order to show them to his wife Maria. He left me upset and speechless.
Later he brought me a glass of iced tea and wanted to know whether I'm d'accord (happy to agree) to his idea of exhibiting my images. "I'm not sure," I said, "let me think about it." And he ran again away to show the photos to some customers. "Aren't they great?!" I heard him exclaim, "I knew she's an artist!"
I felt abashed and withdrew into the garage. Maria came and wanted to know whether I've got everything what I need. Gabo came back and installed some lamp (which wasn't useful at the end, I love the darkness and the little bit of daylight which comes in from the open door).
I spent about two hours in the garage. It's a pretty dusty place and I was all dirty after. And happy. I took some really fine pictures which I'm going to upload during the next days.
I'm still thinking about Gabo's suggestion. Guess I'm not brave enough to do it. But we will see.
(Wish I'd had a father like him.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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!
~ Charles Bukowski ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"It was, finally, for everyone, a matter of waiting. You waited and you waited- for the hospital, the doctor, the plumber, the madhouse, the jail, papa death himself."
(Charles Bukowski)
[ ..
je connais une femme
qui continue à acheter des puzzles
chinois
des casse-têtes
avec des poulies
des fils
qui finalement s'ajustent
dans un ordre prévisible
elle y parvient
mathématiquement
et elle résout tous ses
puzzles
elle vit près de la mer
elle donne du sucre aux fourmis
et croit
en dernière instance
en un monde meilleur
.. ]
- c h a r l e s b u k o w s k i g é r a r d g u é g a n -
there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
than
too late.
- Charles Bukowski, "Oh Yes"
more about it here :: heartfish.com/2010/04/12/custom-prints-charles-bukowski/
Please contact me if you are interested!
when God created love he didn't help most
when God created dogs He didn't help dogs
when God created plants that was average
when God created hate we had a standard utility
when God created me He created me
when God created the monkey He was asleep
when He created the giraffe He was drunk
when He created narcotics He was high
and when He created suicide He was low
when He created you lying in bed
He knew what He was doing
He was drunk and He was high
and He created the mountians and the sea and fire at the same time
He made some mistakes
but when He created you lying in bed
He came all over His Blessed Universe.
[Quando Dio creò l'amore non ci ha aiutato molto
quando Dio creò i cani non ha aiutato molto i cani
quando Dio creò le piante fu una cosa nella norma
quando Dio creò l'odio ci ha dato una normale cosa utile
quando Dio creò Me creò Me
quando Dio creò la scimmia stava dormendo
quando creò la giraffa era ubriaco
quando creò i narcotici era su di giri
e quando creò il suicidio era a terra.
Quando creò te distesa a letto
sapeva cosa stava facendo
era ubriaco e su di giri
e creò le montagne e il mare e il fuoco
allo stesso tempo.
Ha fatto qualche errore
ma quando creò te distesa a letto
fece tutto il Suo Sacro Universo.]
Charles Bukowski
[Ti amo]
DO NOT use my pictures without my written permission, these images are under copyright. Contact me if you want to buy or use them. CarloAlessio77© All rights reserved
are you in a hotel room in Detroit looking for a cigarette? one more good day. a little bit of it. and as the nurses come out of the building after their shift, having had enough, eight nurses with different names and different places to go -- walking across the lawn, some of them want cocoa and a paper, some of them want a hot bath, some of them want a man, some of them are hardly thinking at all. enough and not enough. arcs and pilgrims, oranges, gutters, ferns, antibodies, boxes of tissue paper.
Charles Bukowski
Yann Itami-Sundays Open Mat-Fight Team Impact (Luxembourg)
www.jujitsu.lu/page/livange-31399
——
"Roll the dice" — Charles Bukowski
“If you’re going to try, go all the
way.
Otherwise, don’t even start.
If you’re going to try, go all the
way.
This could mean losing girlfriends,
wives, relatives, jobs and
maybe your mind.
go all the way.
It could mean not eating for 3 or
4 days.
It could mean freezing on a
park bench.
It could mean jail,
It could mean derision,
mockery ,
isolation.
Isolation is the gift.
All the others are a test of your
endurance, of
how much you really want to
do it.
And, you’ll do it
despite rejection and the
worst odds.
And it will be better than
anything else
you can imagine.
If you’re going to try,
go all the way.
There is no other feeling like
that.
You will be alone with the
gods
and the nights will flame with
fire.
do it, do it, do it.
do it.
all the way
all the way.
You will ride life straight to
perfect laughter, It’s
the only good fight
there is.”
www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/charles-bukowski
——
Nikon D3S+Nikkor 180mm ƒ/2.8 AI
© Ivan Herrador