Blue Bird by Charles Bukowski

It is a recent effort of mine to finally voice, to speak, to write and send it off and give it away. I’ve done been silent. I’m over quieting, especially when there is so much to say. Away with the insecurity of being incompetent! This year, I have begun singing my favorite jazz and blues songs in my local wine bar and It is also the year I have humbled myself to sharing my writing after so many of years of piling thoughts on top of thoughts in journals collecting dust. That is why I am here, on a website. It is after all a new year, another day, and another chance to turn it all around. So, here you will find my thoughts, expressions, emotions, frustrations, passions, and any other sions. I am here simply to voice and if you happen to be here with me too, well then welcome. I’d gladly sit with you over a cup of coffee and chat it up. I am just as curious about you that you are perhaps me. Perhaps not. But, nonetheless here we are and I don’t consider this luck or chance. Sit down, it is nice to meet you.

To start off, I thought it appropriate to include my favorite poem by Charles Bukowski as my very first post. I love it so much I even toyed with the idea of getting some kind of rendition of it tattoed to my body. Perhaps, perhaps not. But, it goes to say that it means that much to me. I too, have a blue bird in my heart that is dying to get out. And I have every ambition to let it out.

Ladies and gents, I present to you, Charles Bukowski’s “Blue Bird.”

Bluebird

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 ****s 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?

 

 

 

 

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